Beyond Heaven and Earth

by Steven H. Propp

  With a smile, Lora replied, “In Vedanta, the question ‘Why does God permit evil?’ is meaningless; you might as well ask, ‘Why does God permit good?’ The world needs both, for us to be able to understand wither. Without the contrast provided by what you call ‘evil,’ how would you even know what ‘good’ was? If you had never seen places that you might be inclined to call ‘ugly,’ how would you know that our grounds here are ‘beautiful’?”

  Jobran thought for a moment, then replied, “There could still be gradations in the degree of beauty, without getting into anything that was literally ‘ugly,’ for example. Like with food: instead of ranging from ‘horrible’ to ‘excellent,’ it might only range from ‘very good’ to ‘excellent.’” He paused, trying to assess whether or not they were grasping his point. He then continued, “But I was mostly thinking of evil things such as death, and sickness. Some Hindu thinkers, like Sankara, seem to promote the viewpoint that evil is only an illusion.”

  Roger shook his head vigorously. “This is how the Vedanta philosophy of Radhikrishna differed from the philosophy of Sankara, who taught that the world is Maya—like a dream or an illusion. The Upanishads, nor do the main currents of Hindu thought, teach this.” Roger pointed to Vivekananda’s book Practical Vedanta that Jobran was holding, and said, “Nevertheless, in that very book you have in your pocket, Vivekananda said that ‘the whole universe is explained by the one force of love.’ Therefore, all things—including those we consider to be ‘evil’—are created by, and are part of God” Roger paused a moment, then added, “This is certainly more logical than a ‘dualist’ theory such as Christianity, under which some things are explained by God, and other things are explained by some evil cause, such as Satan.”

  With a warm voice, Lora added, “That is also why we must show love and compassion to every person, even the hardest criminal, because of the divinity— both potential, as well as actualized—in everyone.”

  Peter interjected himself into the conversation, saying to Jobran, “You also have to remember that the one who is actually experiencing the suffering is also God.” Jobran began to realize that a number of people in the room had become aware of their conversation, and were listening to it with interest.

  Jobran wasn’t convinced, and said, “Suppose that I were to set fire to your meeting hall here, and destroy your beautiful place to meet and meditate. Wouldn’t that be an ‘evil’ act? Wouldn’t you try to stop me, or at least call the fire department, in such an instance?”

  Lora asked, with a smile, “Have you ever read the Git??” When Jobran nodded his head affirmatively, she said, “The situation you outline is somewhat comparable to the situation in the Git?, where Krishna advises Arjuna, ‘Do your duty, always; but without attachment. That is how a man reaches the ultimate Truth.’” Pausing a moment to let her words sink in, she continued, “My role in my current incarnation includes being the Vice President of our Vedanta Society: as such, it would be my duty to try and stop you—or if I could not, to take whatever actions I could to try and put out the fire.” She looked at Roger, who nodded his agreement with her, and she continued. “But I would do so without attachment to the results of my actions,” she said firmly, clearly articulating her words. “If I succeeded in stopping you, I would not be filled with joy, and if I failed to stop you, I would not be overwhelmed with despair. If I succeeded, I would not seek to have myself portrayed as a ‘hero’—be interviewed by the newspapers, or be given rewards for what I had done—since I was doing no more than my duty, in the guise of God that I currently inhabiting.”

  “Suppose that I were placed in Jail as a result of your calling the police?” asked Jobran.

  “Then God would be serving time in Jail,” replied Lora, calmly. “And who knows? Perhaps having time to think things over in jail would change your life, and bring you closer to God-realization.”

  Roger made a slow sweeping motion with his hand, and said, “I understand what you are saying, Jobran; let me tell you a parable, that we often tell to persons who are first encountering the beautiful message of Vedanta:

  “There once was a man in India named Jupah, who heard the message that ‘All is God,’ and his heart was filled with joy. All day long he would walk up and down the streets, convinced that nothing could harm him, since he was God, and everything else was God. Then one day when he was blissfully crossing the street, there came rushing down the street a man riding on top of an elephant that must have gone mad, as it was rushing blindly down the road. ‘Get out of the way! Get out of the way!’ cried the man to Jupah, as he was squarely in the path of the oncoming elephant. But Jupah merely smiled, and remained standing where he was, since he was God, and the elephant was God, so he had nothing to fear…unfortunately, the elephant trampled Jupah, who ended up in the hospital with serious injuries. A few days later, the owner of the elephant came to visit Jupah in the hospital, and the owner asked Jupah why he didn’t move out of the way. ‘I thought that the elephant and its driver were God,’ said Jupah sadly. Sternly, the owner said, ‘Then why didn’t you listen to the voice of God, telling you to move out of the way?’”

  Jobran laughed, in spite of himself.

  With a broad smile, Roger continued, “So you see, Jobran, there is no point at which you can draw a firm line between God and non-God. If God made all things, and inhabits all things, then it is only a fairly short step from there to declaring that all is God—and that God is all, in all.”

  Jobran looked thoughtful, and said, “I see your point, Roger and Lora; and I’ll admit that the point of view is not without its attractions, of a mystical sort.” Taking a deep breath, he continued, “But in the case of a father who savagely beats his 3-year old son because he was crying, and then beats his wife senseless when she tries to protect her son—I find it impossible to think that such a father is a ‘manifestation of God’—he seems more like a manifestation of the devil, than of God. To me, it seems absurd to say that a habitual child molester, or a serial rapist, or a mass murderer who cruelly tortures his victims before killing them, is ‘God’; such a person seems irredeemably evil to me.” Jobran was now speaking passionately, and he realized that most of the people in the assembly were listening to their conversation. “Was Hitler also a manifestation of God? Why should we even have laws, if everyone and everything is God? Are you telling me that child molestation, mass murder, the Holocaust, chemical and biological warfare, and so on, should not be opposed?”

  “No, not at all,” replied Lora, nervously glancing around the hall at the people listening intently to the discussion, and looking as if she passionately wished she had never joined the conversation. “Remember that I cited the Git?, which said that you should do your duty, only that you should do it without attachment to the results!”

  “How can you not be attached to the results?” Jobran asked sharply. “Are you telling me that if you were a District Attorney, prosecuting a man for sexually assaulting, torturing, and then killing a series of small children—no older than some of the children in this room—that you wouldn’t be attached—passionately attached—to the results? Are you telling me that it would make no difference to you whether you won or lost the case?” Lora’s eyes flashed, but she made no reply, nor did Roger. “Under such beliefs, what is the purpose of life? Why are we here at all?” asked Jobran, in a voice shaking with emotion.

  At this point, the Swami himself came over to join the group, which fell silent at his presence. He looked at Jobran with a kind and sympathetic expression, and said in a quiet voice, “We do not have a ‘purpose’ in the sense you are speaking of. A river is here for no other purpose than to manifest its own river nature; a desert is here just to express the being of a desert. The fire which warms one person, and burns down the home of another, is not ‘cruel’ or uncaring; it simply is.”

  “Thank you, Swami Vedananda,” Peter said. Indicating Jobran, he added in a softer voice,
he said, “My friend Jobran lost his wife recently…so these questions are a matter of intense, and sincere, concern to him.”

  Jobran was instantly both embarrassed and angry at Peter for having announced his personal affairs to the entire group, and was about to tell him so, when the Swami looked at him with eyes that radiated compassion, and he kept silent.

  “You are concerned with the fate and condition of your beloved wife?” the Swami said, in his thick Middle-Eastern accent.

  “That’s correct,” Jobran replied. “I came here today because I wanted to find out what Vedanta teaches about life after death.”

  In a gentle voice, the Swami said, “The Brihad-Aranyaka Upanishad (II, 4) compares the death of an individual to a lump of salt that is thrown into the water, and says, ‘therein being dissolved, it cannot be grasped again, but whenever the water is taken it is found salt, in the same way. The Supreme Spirit is an ocean of pure consciousness, boundless and infinite, Arising out of the elements, into them it returns again: there is no consciousness or knowledge after death.”

  Jobran was surprised by the directness of this teaching (as appeared to be several of the Society members listening to the conversation), and he replied, “But an impersonal sort of immortality is of no interest to me; I don’t want to simply become an anonymous part of Gaia, or of the eternal, nameless something-orother—that won’t work for me.” Then, his voice quaking with emotion, he cried out, “I want to be together with my wife again! I can’t life without Sophia!” The room was silent for a moment, after this pained outburst.

  Quietly, the Swami said, “My friend, I think that you have put so much of your attention into trying to be with your wife again, that you are failing to notice that what it was that appealed to you about her in the first place.” Looking directly at Jobran with shining eyes, he said, “Sophia—a name which means ‘wisdom,’ I am told—was a manifestation of God; that is what actually attracted you to her. It had nothing to do with her appearance, or her personality; it was because she resonated with the manifestation of God that is in you.”

  Jobran’s eyes swelled with tears, yet he said nothing.

  “We are all manifestations of God,” the Swami continued. “It is God that you are attracted to, God that you are trying to experience—it is not simply a particular individual human consciousness, no matter how precious it may seem to you.” He paused for a moment, then said, carefully emphasizing his words, “Until you realize the point of your quest, I am afraid that it is doomed to failure.”

  Jobran nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly. “My quest may very well end in failure; I’ve long ago resigned myself to dealing with that possibility,” he said. Straightening up, he said in a firm voice, “But if I have nothing to look forward to, other than dissolution in a gigantic ocean anyway, what does that really matter?” In a voice of deep conviction, he said, “Still, I have based my entire life now on the assumption that that is not the case—and that it is possible for me to be reunited with my beloved Sophia again.” Almost whispering, he concluded, “And that’s a chance that I’m willing to take, out of the love that I bear for my wife.” The room—including the Swami, who simply nodded his head at Jobran—was silent.

  Turning, Jobran prepared to leave the room, but he suddenly turned back and added, “But I sincerely do thank you for your hospitality. Although I do not share your particular religious vision, you’ve given me a deeper understanding and appreciation of it.” As he walked out of the room, he could hear the buzz of excited conversation behind him.

  Yet who knows? he thought, as he walked the road back to the bus stop. Perhaps one day, our different streams truly will meet in the same sea.

  16

  THE WAY OF LIVING AND DYING

  Abraham parked the car at the end of the block, and said, “We’ll have to walk the

  rest of the way.”

  “You think all these people are here for the Study Group?” Jobran asked.

  “If they are, it probably ticks off their neighbors on Monday, Wednesday and Friday nights,” Abraham said, with a smile. They set off walking down the neat suburban street, until they reached the house that had a small sign, “Dharma Study Group” in its front window. “Dis’ must be de place,” quipped Abraham, as he rang the doorbell.

  The door was answered by a barefoot young caucasian man with longish hair, wearing a loose-fitting shirt and bluejeans. He smiled and said, “Hello! Are you here for the Study Group?”

  Abraham nodded, and indicating himself and Jobran with his hand, said, “I’m Abraham Kaplan, and this is Jobran Winter; we spoke to Stephen Grove over the phone…”

  “That’s me!” he said, opening the door wide, and welcoming them in. “Call me Steve,” and he shook both their hands. “Come this way,” he said, leaving them into a large living room. The smell of incense was subtle yet pervasive, and there was some vaguely Oriental-sounding music playing in the background.

  “We’ll start the group in about ten or fifteen minutes; would you like some tea?”

  Jobran shook his head.

  “We’re good; thanks,” Abraham replied.

  To the people sitting or standing in the room, Steve announced, “Hey, everyone; this is Abraham, and Jobran; they wanted to learn about our group, and about the Dharma.” There were smiles and quiet murmurs of welcome and greeting; one small woman with long brown hair made a slight bow towards them, then came up and gave each of them a gentle embrace. “Welcome,” she said. “I’m Naomi.”

  “Let’s see,” Steve said. “Starting from that corner, we’ve got Ruth; Kenneth; Tara; R.J.; Heidi; David; Alexander; and that’s my wife Jackie.” With the exception of Jackie (who was black), and R.J. (who looked like he was Pacific Islander or Filipino), all of the others were white.

  The doorbell rang again. “Make yourselves comfortable,” Steve said to Jobran and Abraham, and he went to answer the door. Abraham and Jobran joined the majority in sitting on the floor; they sat in-between Naomi and Heidi.

  “Tonight we’re continuing our study of The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, by Sogyal Rinpoche,” Naomi said, helpfully. “This is the second time this group has been through it; there’s so much wisdom in there, that you really need to read it again and again!” Then, eyeing Abraham and Jobran through her thick glasses, she asked pleasantly, “Have you ever read it?”

  Abraham shook his head, but Jobran said, “I’ve read it, and also listened to a cassette tape series that Rinpoche—or is it Sogyal?—did on the same subject; it was interesting.” Naomi looked pleased, and handed a copy of the book to both Jobran and Abraham.

  “His name is Sogyal,” Naomi said. “Rinpoche is a title of honor used in Tibetan Buddhism for highly respected spiritual teachers; it literally means, ‘Precious Jewel.’ It is used as both as a title, and as the last part of a name. It’s kind of like calling someone ‘Cardinal Newman,’ or ‘Professor Hawking,’ in the West. ‘Lama,’ which means ‘superior one,’ is another title used for religious teachers of the Dharma, or ‘path’—that is, the spiritual path that one proceeds down in Buddhism.”

  “I’m familiar with the term Dharma,” Jobran said.

  “How long have you studied Vajrayana?” Heidi asked.

  “Not long,” replied Jobran. “I’m definitely starting from Square One.” Seeing that Naomi and Abraham were engaged in conversation about the book, Jobran asked Heidi, “Can I ask you a few really dumb questions?”

  Heidi nodded, her eyes sparkling. “The only dumb question is the one that doesn’t get asked.”

  Jobran nodded his appreciation, then asked, “First off, is Vajrayana the same thing as Tibetan Buddhism?”

  Heidi put her fingers to her lips, thinking, then said, “Yes and no. The Sanskrit word ‘Vajra’ means ‘diamond’ or ‘indestructible,’ and ‘Yana’ just means tradition, vehicle, or path. So Vajrayana just
means the ‘Diamond’ or ‘Indestructible Vehicle’ tradition, or the path of devotion. But yes, Vajrayana is the form of Buddhism practiced in Tibet, but it is also practiced in Japan as Shingon, in India, and many other places worldwide—including America, obviously.”

  “So Vajrayana is sort of like Mahayana and Hinayana, which are the ‘greater’ and ‘lesser’ vehicles of Buddhism—depending on whether you believe that salvation is for all sentient beings, or only for a few, such as those who practice in monastic orders?” Jobran asked. Heidi nodded, pleased at his knowledge. Encouraged, Jobran continued, “Although I understand that ‘Theravada’ is the preferred term rather than ‘Hinayana,’ since calling something a ‘lesser’ vehicle could be viewed as kind of a put-down, that originated from the Mahayana followers.”

  “I guess so,” Heidi said. “I don’t know too much about other branches, other than Vajrayana.”

  “Theravada is prominent in far Eastern countries like Burma, Thailand, Cambodia, Laos, and Sri Lanka, I think. It’s supposedly the branch that is closest to original Buddhism, as it began in India,” Jobran said.

  “I know that Mahayana is like Zen,” Heidi said, “But I don’t know much else about it. But Vajrayana also goes back to original Buddhism, too, and has the advantage of having been transmitted by a continuous series of teachers.” Brightly, she added, “It’s also the tradition that His Holiness the Dalai Lama teaches, and I think it’s the fastest-growing Buddhist practice in America. A lot of famous people—movie stars, musicians—practice it, too.”

  “Is that because of its relation to the Tantric tradition?” Jobran asked. “That’s the tradition that seems to get a lot of attention these days, because of its supposed emphasis on magic, sex, and so on.”

  Heidi wrinkled her nose, and said, “I know; lots of outsiders in America think of Tantra the way it was portrayed in that movie, ‘American Pie 2,’ as just being something that lets you have sex for hours and hours—or else something that gives you magical powers, like they show in some of those martial-arts movies.” She shook her head, then said earnestly, “But that’s not what Tantra really is; the word ‘Tantra’ really means ‘treatise’ or ‘dissertation.’ Since the texts upon which this school is based are called tantras, consequently this form of Buddhism is called Tantric Buddhism. Tantra is the most direct route to enlightenment, most of us feel.”