I’M GLAD IT’S NOT A DISEASE:
Ramakrishna (1836-1886)
Vivekananda’s story pre-Parliament isn’t well known, except maybe that he was a disciple of Paramahamsa Ramakrishna (1836-1886), one of the odder ducks in India’s Guru Hall of Fame (they don’t really have one but should). Ramakrishna was given to fall-down, pass-out visions from a very early age, and for many years it wasn’t clear to his family whether he was truly God-intoxicated or just plain eccentric, even insane. This question however was decisively settled in the mid-1850s by a pair of Hindu scholars and holy men, Vaishnav Charan and Gauri, who were called for the purpose. Far from insane, the former determined (and the latter eventually agreed) that Ramakrishna was actually an avatar or incarnation of God.When told this Ramakrisha replied, “So he really thinks that! Well–anyway, I’m glad it’s not a disease!” [isherwood 96]
Around the same time, he became a permanent priest-caretaker at a temple in Dakshineshvar, five miles outside Calcutta, where he mostly lived for the rest of his life. Though born a Hindu and initiated into Advaita Vedanta, he also studied Islam and Christianity, though “studied” might be too mild a description. He literally absorbed them, became them. When he went into Sufism, he repeated the name of Allah non-stop for three days, prayed the regulation five times daily facing Mecca, dressed like a Muslim, ate like a Muslim (he had to be restrained from eating beef), in other words he walked the walk and talked the talk. This time his behavior managed to scandalize not only Hindus, but some Muslims as well. His efforts though were rewarded by the vision of an “impressive sage of grave mien and a flowing, white beard (Mohammed?), who approached and finally merged into Ramakrishna’s body.” Both then were absorbed into Allah, and all three–or the three-in-one of them–became Brahman. Thus, concludes one biographer, the “river of Sufi devotions had merged with the Hindu stream at the end in the selfsame ocean of the Spirit without either name or form.” [schiffman 77]
But Ramakrishna wasn’t done. He next took up Christianity with such fervor he had a vision of the “Master Yogi” Jesus. When they embraced, Ramakrishna merged into the other, and again as before, he was “propelled into deep rapture, which once again opened into the consciousness of the ineffable Brahman–the true wellspring of spiritual experience known to all the great prophets of mankind, and in which they are eternally united.” [schiffman 78]
I’m not sure that Mohammed and Jesus would agree that all the “great prophets of mankind” are “eternally united” in Brahman. It appears that though Ramakrishna deeply studied other religions, and to a great extent took on their trappings, he remained at heart a Hindu. These experiences led him to echo the ancient Vedic dictum of “different paths, same goal.” If you think about it, Ramakrishna was kind of a mini-Parliament, successfully achieving what the some of the delegates 10 years on hoped for but went about in the wrong way.
As Ramakrishna’s reputation for saintliness spread, he became a magnet for different groups and, through them, had an influence on his society that far exceeded his relatively stationary existence. Even though illiterate, he attracted a coterie of young, idealistic, Western-educated Indians, including Vivekananda–who was still known by his birth name–which formed the core of the Ramakrishna Mission after his death. He also got the attention of the socially reform-minded, quasi-religious Brahmo Samaj, in the person of Keshab Sen (Protap Majumdar’s cousin).
Ramakrishna remains a controversial figure even today. The great majority of 20th century commentators agree that he was truly God-realized. Biographer Romain Rolland, winner of the 1915 Nobel Prize for literature, wrote in The Life of Ramakrishna (1929) that “Ramakrishna more fully than any other man not only conceived, but realised in himself the total Unity of this river of God.” [xiv] Aldous Huxley suggests that, to Westerners, Ramakrishna seems strange because he “did his thinking and expressed his feelings” in frames of reference that were “entirely Indian” [www.writespirit.net/ authors/sri_ramakrishna/ gospel_sri_ramakrishna/ document.2005-07-05.2378410643]
But other writers, such as Narasingha Sil and Jeffrey Kirpal, cast Ramakrishna in a much darker light, alleging his mystical experiences were pathological responses to childhood trauma or, after stretching him out on the Western Freudian psycho-analytic couch–which, as Huxley suggests, takes him completely out of his proper Indian context–makes conclusions about his sexuality that sent Hindus through the roof. Remember the furor Salman Rushdie ignited in the Islamic world, and the consequences for him, with The Satanic Verses? Kirpal was similarly tarred and feathered, though thankfully no one put a price on his head. A sharply worded 170-page rebuttal, [home.earthlink.net/ ~tyag/KCR.doc] Kali’s Child Revisited: Or Didn’t Anyone Check the Documentation?, by Swami Tyaganananda of the Boston Ramakrishna Vedanta Center, is representative of the pro-Ramakrishna camp. He charged Kirpal with “faulty translations, a willful distortion and manipulation of sources, combined with a remarkable ignorance of Bengali culture. The derisive, nonscholarly tone with which he discussed Ramakrishna didn’t help matters either.” In other words Jeffrey both fudged the data and didn’t know what he was talking about.
From our lofty perch, we can smile indulgently at this hubbub over a guru dead more than 120 years, and wonder what all the fuss is about. But it’s best to get ready for more such confrontations because they’re common in the modern Yoga world. The mix typically consists of two highly volatile ingredients, a devoted, intensely protective band of followers, sometimes small, other times numbering in the thousands, tens of thousands, even millions, and a writer (often a disgruntled former devotee) in league with the devil, who pens a poisonous study or expose of the guru, pointing out faults that seem to indicate he actually might not be perfect.
Vivekananda himself is the subject ... ***
Vivekananda’s story pre-Parliament isn’t well known, except maybe that he was a disciple of Paramahamsa Ramakrishna (1836-1886), one of the odder ducks in India’s Guru Hall of Fame (they don’t really have one but should). Ramakrishna was given to fall-down, pass-out visions from a very early age, and for many years it wasn’t clear to his family whether he was truly God-intoxicated or just plain eccentric, even insane. This question however was decisively settled in the mid-1850s by a pair of Hindu scholars and holy men, Vaishnav Charan and Gauri, who were called for the purpose. Far from insane, the former determined (and the latter eventually agreed) that Ramakrishna was actually an avatar or incarnation of God.When told this Ramakrisha replied, “So he really thinks that! Well–anyway, I’m glad it’s not a disease!” [isherwood 96]
Around the same time, he became a permanent priest-caretaker at a temple in Dakshineshvar, five miles outside Calcutta, where he mostly lived for the rest of his life. Though born a Hindu and initiated into Advaita Vedanta, he also studied Islam and Christianity, though “studied” might be too mild a description. He literally absorbed them, became them. When he went into Sufism, he repeated the name of Allah non-stop for three days, prayed the regulation five times daily facing Mecca, dressed like a Muslim, ate like a Muslim (he had to be restrained from eating beef), in other words he walked the walk and talked the talk. This time his behavior managed to scandalize not only Hindus, but some Muslims as well. His efforts though were rewarded by the vision of an “impressive sage of grave mien and a flowing, white beard (Mohammed?), who approached and finally merged into Ramakrishna’s body.” Both then were absorbed into Allah, and all three–or the three-in-one of them–became Brahman. Thus, concludes one biographer, the “river of Sufi devotions had merged with the Hindu stream at the end in the selfsame ocean of the Spirit without either name or form.” [schiffman 77]
But Ramakrishna wasn’t done. He next took up Christianity with such fervor he had a vision of the “Master Yogi” Jesus. When they embraced, Ramakrishna merged into the other, and again as before, he was “propelled into deep rapture, which once again opened into the consciousness of the ineffable Brahman–the true wellspring of spiritual experience known to all the great prophets of mankind, and in which they are eternally united.” [schiffman 78]
I’m not sure that Mohammed and Jesus would agree that all the “great prophets of mankind” are “eternally united” in Brahman. It appears that though Ramakrishna deeply studied other religions, and to a great extent took on their trappings, he remained at heart a Hindu. These experiences led him to echo the ancient Vedic dictum of “different paths, same goal.” If you think about it, Ramakrishna was kind of a mini-Parliament, successfully achieving what the some of the delegates 10 years on hoped for but went about in the wrong way.
As Ramakrishna’s reputation for saintliness spread, he became a magnet for different groups and, through them, had an influence on his society that far exceeded his relatively stationary existence. Even though illiterate, he attracted a coterie of young, idealistic, Western-educated Indians, including Vivekananda–who was still known by his birth name–which formed the core of the Ramakrishna Mission after his death. He also got the attention of the socially reform-minded, quasi-religious Brahmo Samaj, in the person of Keshab Sen (Protap Majumdar’s cousin).
Ramakrishna remains a controversial figure even today. The great majority of 20th century commentators agree that he was truly God-realized. Biographer Romain Rolland, winner of the 1915 Nobel Prize for literature, wrote in The Life of Ramakrishna (1929) that “Ramakrishna more fully than any other man not only conceived, but realised in himself the total Unity of this river of God.” [xiv] Aldous Huxley suggests that, to Westerners, Ramakrishna seems strange because he “did his thinking and expressed his feelings” in frames of reference that were “entirely Indian” [www.writespirit.net/ authors/sri_ramakrishna/ gospel_sri_ramakrishna/ document.2005-07-05.2378410643]
But other writers, such as Narasingha Sil and Jeffrey Kirpal, cast Ramakrishna in a much darker light, alleging his mystical experiences were pathological responses to childhood trauma or, after stretching him out on the Western Freudian psycho-analytic couch–which, as Huxley suggests, takes him completely out of his proper Indian context–makes conclusions about his sexuality that sent Hindus through the roof. Remember the furor Salman Rushdie ignited in the Islamic world, and the consequences for him, with The Satanic Verses? Kirpal was similarly tarred and feathered, though thankfully no one put a price on his head. A sharply worded 170-page rebuttal, [home.earthlink.net/ ~tyag/KCR.doc] Kali’s Child Revisited: Or Didn’t Anyone Check the Documentation?, by Swami Tyaganananda of the Boston Ramakrishna Vedanta Center, is representative of the pro-Ramakrishna camp. He charged Kirpal with “faulty translations, a willful distortion and manipulation of sources, combined with a remarkable ignorance of Bengali culture. The derisive, nonscholarly tone with which he discussed Ramakrishna didn’t help matters either.” In other words Jeffrey both fudged the data and didn’t know what he was talking about.
From our lofty perch, we can smile indulgently at this hubbub over a guru dead more than 120 years, and wonder what all the fuss is about. But it’s best to get ready for more such confrontations because they’re common in the modern Yoga world. The mix typically consists of two highly volatile ingredients, a devoted, intensely protective band of followers, sometimes small, other times numbering in the thousands, tens of thousands, even millions, and a writer (often a disgruntled former devotee) in league with the devil, who pens a poisonous study or expose of the guru, pointing out faults that seem to indicate he actually might not be perfect.
Vivekananda himself is the subject ... ***
