India's Ancient Culture

by Swami Krishnananda

Chapter 14: The Nine Forms of Worship of God

We have been noticing in our observations that the apex of religious pursuit is the positioning of oneself in the context of the existence of God. 'Positioning' is the proper word; the adjustment of our whole being in respect of the being of God is the final requirement in the highest form of religious consciousness. We have seen that there are lesser degrees of religious awareness, which take the form of actual ritualistic performances, gestures in the form of music and dance, scripture reading, prayer, or chanting of a mantra or a formula in a holy sanctified place such as a temple or a church. All these are also a form of religion, but religion does not mean any kind of performance in this manner. Religion is the placement of ourselves in the context of God's existence. We took a lot of time in trying to find out how this can be achieved, because while we are to some extent confident as to where we are located, we are not so confident as to where God is located.

The all-pervadingness of God, which is the conclusion we drew from our investigations, requires of us a kind of adjustment which is commensurate with that character of all-pervadingness. It is not ordinarily possible to adjust oneself to all-pervading things, because we ourselves are not all-pervading. We cannot be doing many things at the same time; certain things we do, and certain things we omit. The capacity to adjust oneself to all things or many things is an inward requirement that has to emanate from ourselves when we are seriously treading the path of religion.

A distinction has sometimes been made between religion and spirituality. Though the distinction is not actually warranted, we can, theoretically speaking, draw a thin line between the two concepts—namely, while religion is the practical implementation of our approach to God in our daily life, the status which our consciousness occupies at that time is spirituality. Spirituality is the status of our consciousness; religion is its implementation in daily life. The position, the attitude or the behaviour of our consciousness in the presence of God, in the context of even the idea of God, is what may be called spirituality. But how do we actually put it into practice in our daily life? When we work, when we speak, when we behave, when we do anything whatsoever, how does this status of consciousness act? The manner in which we are able to bring into action this status of consciousness, which is true spirituality, is what is called religion.

The religions of the world, many in number, are emanations of the various channels through which the ultimate spirituality manifests itself in daily life, because the manifestation of this great universally applicable spiritual status is conditioned by various factors such as our psychophysical personality, the geographical conditions of where we live, the cultural background of our country, and many other things which bring us down to the earth. These conditioning factors are all sorts of things that make us what we are—the moulds, as it were, through which this ultimate spiritual consciousness passes, or into which it is cast. Because of the fact that historical, geographical, social and personal conditions differ from one individual to another, there is the feeling that there are various religious attitudes. They are actually not many religions; they are the shapes or the forms taken by the one broad daylight, the solar light of the spiritual status, when it passes through various media. Sunlight can appear in different colours. Though it is one ubiquitous all-pervading universal blaze, it can take various colours on account of the medium through which it is made to pass. A glass or lens with colours, without colours, with dents, convex, concave, and so on, will make the sunlight appear in different contours, but they are not many independent lights; they are merely structural differences of a single light.

Similarly, while on the one hand we have many religions in this world, on the other hand they are not to be considered as really manifold religions. Any kind of dichotomy between one religious faith and another is a travesty of affairs, which is to mistake the medium for the thing which passes through the medium, to mistake the vessel for that which is in the vessel, and vice versa. The quarrels, the strife, the antagonism, the differences of various types—philosophical, religious, social or otherwise—in the name of religion is a discredit to human intelligence, which is unable to recognise the reason for these differences, and it should be to the credit of human intelligence that it is able to rise above these parochial cloaks through which it is that the original spiritual status manifests itself.

These words that I speak are in connection with the topmost level that you can reach in religious consciousness. If you can maintain this awareness in your daily life, you are not merely a religious person, and not even merely a spiritual individual or a seeker in the ordinary sense of the term; you are a master yourself. Self-mastery follows automatically from this consequence engendered by the maintenance of this great behaviour of your consciousness.

In Indian terminology, and also in certain other phases of religion outside India, the worship of God has been taken as a footstool or a primary pedestal to approach God. While the placement of the inner consciousness in the context of the universal consciousness of God is the ultimate aim, it has to be reached gradually, stage by stage, due to the frailty of the human body, the weakness of the human mind, the conditions of social life, and many other things of that nature.

A famous verse occurs in the Srimad Bhagavata Mahapurana: śravaṇaṁ kīrtanaṁ viṣṇoḥ smaraṇaṁ pāda-sevanam, arcanaṁ vandanaṁ dāsyaṁ sakhyam ātma-nivedanam (Bhagavata 7.5.23). Nine modes of approach to God through worship are dealt with, and this verse delineates these nine methods.

You contact God by certain adjustments of your mind in the attitude of adoration and worship. One of the methods is to attend satsanga, a community gathering of devotees where the glory of God is sung either by the chanting of the Divine Name or by a loud repetition of a mantra, a formula or a prayer, a common prayer, a group meditation. You participate in it. Even if you are not able to actively participate, you listen to the recitations, the songs, the bhajans, the kirtans, the prayers, the invocations, the liturgical readings, and so on. This is filling your ears with the glory of God. Wherever there is a singing of the glory of God, be present there. You will find that your heart will be filled with that which has passed through your ears. If you cannot do anything yourself, you can at least listen. Sravana is hearing about the glory of God. Listen to prayers constantly, either in a satsanga where chanting or singing is going on or where a discourse highlighting the greatness, the majesty and the glory of God is taking place, or a study of the Srimad Bhagavata Mahapurana or any other scripture where the glory of God is sung by a person who is discoursing. Attend it, participate in it, listen to it, fill your heart and feelings. Sravana is listening, listening, going on listening. Wherever there is a gathering devoted to the glorification of God, be present there.

The second method is kirtana. You yourself sing the glory of God. While participating is wonderful, singing yourself is also very good. You can sing the glory of God in your own room. You need not be a musician to sing the glory of God. You can simply feel astounded, struck to the quick, to the core, by the very thought of this Mighty Being. “Wonder, Great God, where art Thou? I weep for You. I cry for You. I am sleepless in bereavement of You. Master Supreme, Divine Being, All Eyes, All Hands, All Power, All Knowledge, All Everything, come into my heart!” If these words emanate from your heart, God shall descend. It is not necessary to have a musical instrument. Your heart is the tabla, your words are the music, and your feeling is the symphony, so sing the glory of God. If you are afraid of dancing before others, dance inside your room. God will see your dance.

By way of a digression, I will tell a story. There was a great devotee, a lady who lived in southern India once upon a time. Purandaradas was another great saint. Master saints they were. Purandaradas heard that this great lady devotee was in Tirupati, near the Venkateswara temple, and he was far away in Karnataka. Hearing of the greatness of this devotee, he went there and offered obeisance to her, and she bade him to be seated.

He was sitting and observing what she was doing. She had one practice every day. At about eleven o'clock every night she would dress herself beautifully in the best of costumes, and go out somewhere. At about five o'clock the next morning she would come back sweating, exhausted, and sit there.

Purandaradas was not able to understand where this lady was going every night. He did not understand this situation, and did not want to say anything because she was the host and he was the guest, but one day he could no longer contain his curiosity and so he asked, “Every day you are going out like this, and coming back sweating. Where are you going?” 

“It is good that you have put this question to me. I shall show you where I am going,” she replied. She took him to the inner sanctum sanctorum of the temple. “Be seated in a corner, and you can see what I am doing.”

Purandaradas saw the light of that living Being rush out from the image of Venkateswara, and she was dancing with that Mighty Being. You may call it a mini Rasa Lila where God and His devotees were in an unintelligible relationship of souls communing with God.

There are instances galore of this kind in the lives of saints, both in the East and in the West, such as St. Francis of Assisi, Meister Eckhart, St. John of the Cross, and Saint Teresa. There were two Teresas, one in Spain and another in France; were both great. In India we have similar saints. Their lives were not the lives of mere human beings. Their feet were planted on the earth, of course, but their spirits were not on the earth. Through their prayers, their spirits could contact the highest heavens, and yet they could be in the midst of men, spreading this message. Saint Tukaram is one master saint whose name is to be remembered for all time to come. It is believed that he physically rose up from the earth with his musical instrument, a tambura, a single-stringed instrument. Together with it, he was lifted up bodily; some distance he went, and then the instrument fell from his hands. In Maharashtra there is a spot where this tambura is said to have dropped to the ground, and they have built a temple there. And Jnaneshwar Maharaj—what a master!

This mastery of the saints arises from their power, which God has implanted in their hearts. Lord Krishna is said to have lifted a huge mountain. You will be wondering how anybody can lift a mountain. Have you seen an elephant lifting its own foot? You cannot lift the severed foot of an elephant. Four people are required to lift it. How can an elephant lift itself? Can you lift an elephant? No. You cannot lift even a human being. You require another person to help you in lifting a person who is lying on the ground, for instance. So how can an elephant lift itself, and how can a man whom you cannot lift, lift himself? The reason is, the mountain which Sri Krishna lifted and the leg which the elephant lifts are not outside the being who lifts them. The mountain is part of the wider personality and the body of Sri Krishna, and the elephant's leg is part of the elephant, but the person whom you are trying to lift is outside you. The outsideness is the limitation on your strength.

The powers of the saints and the miracles that they seem to have performed are all illustrations of their unity with the source of power. They are not themselves powerful. Their energy enters into them on account of the openness of their personality to the influx of the power that is everywhere. It is not that God is only in the saints. God is also in non-saints. But the trouble is, these non-saints, so-called, have closed their windows and will not allow the light of the sun to enter into them, whereas saints have opened all the doors, and the light of the sun from above, from the heavens, enters into them. God's grace is not only for today or tomorrow; it is an eternal rain that is actually flooding us. There is openness from the side of God, but there is closing from the side of the human individual. God does not wait for your asking. It is an eternal abundance that flows, only if there is receptivity on your part that you are prepared to receive it. Eternity is not tomorrow or yesterday or today. God's existence is eternity's existence, so its action is not after sometime, because the question of 'after sometime' does not arise in eternity. It is ever perennially flowing, which one has to feel competent to receive. Sravanam and kirtanam are listening to the glory of God, and singing the name of God prayerfully in your own room, as I suggested.

Another method, smaranam, is always remembering God. Day in and day out you are thinking this. A rich man is always thinking how many dollars he has, and how he can increase them. Just imagine you have in your pocket some ten thousand dollars in currency notes. Will you ever forget that you have got this in your pocket? You will keep feeling it now and then, to see whether it is there or not. Whether you are having breakfast or lunch, or are in the marketplace, or travelling on a train or on a bus, or wherever you are, the mind will be always conscious of this thing in your pocket. This is smaranam, or remembering. But you cannot remember God's name. Why should you not? Because the dollar has a value, and everyone knows what value it has. It is like life and death for you, so how can you forget it? But God's existence is not yet such a valuable thing because there is a peculiar 'but' that the mind draws, together with its acceptance of the all-pervading and eternal nature of God. Subtly a voice speaks from within: “Yes, God is all-pervading and eternal, but I can manage somehow. I can forget God for a day at least. Am I needing God just now? What is wrong with me? Everything is okay. I have set myself in tune with the daily routine. Just now, for the moment, today, my routine is so clear that God's assistance may not be necessary for me. When I'm in trouble, perhaps I will need His help.” This is a subtle erratic behaviour of the mind, which escapes recognition of the fact that the very existence of the person is impossible without God's existence.

In one of the chapters of the Panchadasi, the great Vedantic text, we are told again and again that God is existence, and He is not name and form. The existence of a thing is God, and if that is the case, your existence also is God's existence. You have borrowed the existence of God and appear to have your own existence. Minus existence, there is only an empty nullity of the name-and-form complex. If you detach existence from your personality, you immediately become non-existent, and you do not have the hardiness to recognise that to think you can get on even for a day without God is the wrong way of thinking. It is like saying that without God's existence you can be for some time. For a few minutes at least you can be without God's existence. How is it possible? You would not be able to breathe.

Smarana, therefore, is the constant remembrance of God as the most valuable of all things. How could you persuade yourself to believe that God is the most valuable of all things? I mentioned during the previous session that, to the spiritual seeker, the concept of God is described as the Ishta-devata, the most beloved of all objects. I also told you the most beloved is a superlative, and there cannot be something different or superior to the superlative. How can there be something better than the best? Better than the best there cannot be, and therefore the Ishta-devata is the best that you can think of, the most beloved of all things. How can your heart move to something that is not the beloved?

The choice of the concept of God, therefore, which is the choice of the Ishta-devata, or the most beloved, is very important. It is the initiation which the Guru conducts in respect of the disciple. Initiation is the inducting of the disciple's mind into the mystery of the placement of himself in the context of the best of things—the most lovable, the most attractive, the most inclusive, the most perfect and complete thing. How can the mind go elsewhere? The word 'complete' includes all that you would like to have in this world. But if you feel that the concept of God is not capable of wholly attracting your attention and sometimes it drifts into something else, you have not thought of God's concept properly. There is incompleteness in your choice of the Ishta, or the beloved. The Guru is responsible for gradually taking your mind to the state of the acceptance of this concept of God being complete. Once its completeness has been accepted, the mind is certain to rejoice in that concept, and it cannot go elsewhere.

Japa of the mantra is also a smarana, a remembering of only that. Go on chanting it one thousand times, twenty thousand times. To remember God always in the light of His being the most beloved of all things is difficult. The mind has never seen a beloved. Even with the most beloved of things in this world, there is a 'but'. “I love you very much, but…” “I love you very much, provided that…” This kind of love will not work. It cannot cut ice. Unconditional affection is what God is expecting from you. It is difficult to maintain this concept. Chant the name, the mantra, again and again. Mantra japa is considered as one of the best methods of spiritual practice because it keeps you in a state of the memory of God. Go on chanting the name, the mantra, again and again, again and again. Again and again hammer the name into your mind, and the form or the concept of that object which is indicated by the name will be melted into your heart. Smarana is going on thinking it again and again, again and again.

Pada-sevanam, worshipping the feet of God, is another way. How can you worship the feet of God? You have never seen God. In your present state of affairs, the worship of God's feet may take the form of either worshipping the feet of a deity, an idol, or worshipping the feet of a person who is God-oriented, or worshipping the feet of humanity as a whole by welfare activities and public works for the benefit of people, with the feeling that all humanity is the Viratsvarupa, the cosmic form of God. This is to worship the feet of humanity as a manifestation of the Almighty. In this manner you may conceive this method of devotion to God as worshipping, adoring the feet of God, inasmuch as the actual feet cannot be seen with your physical eyes. Pada-sevanam it is called.

Archanam is actual ritualistic worship. You have a portrait of your divinity in front of you. It can be an idol, it can be an image, it can be a sculpture, it can be a painted portrait, it can be Michelangelo's Last Supper, it can be Lord Krishna seated with Arjuna in the chariot; it can be anything, for the matter of that, and you offer sacred flowers at his feet. You have a little shrine in your own room, a little corner devoted to the worship that you carry on every day. Public worships are conducted in large temples and churches, for instance, with grand music and occasionally processions. In large temples such as Tirupati and Shrinathji, during the annual festivals there are elephant processions, musicians and the dancing of devotees, and with great grandeur the worship in these temples is conducted. This is done on a smaller scale in smaller temples.

God is adored as a king who has come to your house. When you receive a king in your house, you receive him with all alertness, all cleanliness, all neatness, all regimentation, all discipline. You are well attired to receive the king. You do not wish to appear unkempt before this great master, because you know the king is a perfect person, and so you would like to be perfect as much is possible. “Your highness, please be seated on this good chair. May I wash your feet? Here is some refreshment for you. Oh, come! I will wave a divine light before you, and then we will have a little discussion. I will sing and dance before you, and then place gifts before you as an offering.”

These kinds of things are done in large temple worships through sixteen methods, which are the ways a person may adopt in receiving a great emperor or a king coming to the house. In Sanskrit they are called shodasha upachara puja: sixteen ways of adoring a great person. That is, every method in glorifying and satisfying is adopted. There is archana, worship. Either it is done in the form of mass in a Catholic church or adoration and actual ritualistic performance in a Hindu or Buddhist temple, or in any temple, for the matter of that, where God is worshipped. The seeker adorns God with flowers, with garlands, with clothes, with costumes, with music, with prayers, with delicious offerings such as sacraments, and with large quantities of prasad. All varieties are offered because you want to satisfy God in every way. Whatever you think is best for you is also best for God; that is what you feel. What can you offer to God? Well, what would you like to be offered, tell me? If I want to offer something to you, what shall I offer? I have to know what you like—the best dishes, served on good plates, with everything perfect to satisfy every part of your personality. That kind of attitude will project into your personality when you adore God in worship. All things are offered to Him, the best of all things. This is archana, actual ritualistic gesticulation for the purpose of adoring, pleasing, satisfying, glorifying in worship the great guest who is God, or a king in secular conditions.

Vandanam, prayer, is another method. Some people say that prayer is the best method. “More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.” This is a line from Tennyson, a very touching line indeed. You should not think that prayer is an empty sound. It is not. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. Do not be under the impression that prayer has no effect. With all your hands and feet, you cannot work so many miracles; with all your sweating and toiling and running about, you cannot do so much work, so much good in this world, as you can effect through your spiritually felt prayer from the bottom of your heart.

We in our own Ashram experienced the effect of this prayer right from Swami Sivananda's time. Every day there were prayers suited to the different conditions prevailing in the world. When the Second World War was taking place many years back, Swami Sivananda introduced one special item of prayer for the war to cease and for agitated minds to calm down. In Sanskrit Om shanti sarveśām svastir bhavatu was chanted, but he added an English translation of it: “Peace be to the east, peace be to the west, peace be to the north, peace be to the south, peace be above, peace be below, peace be everywhere.” That 'everywhere' is very important. It touches the heart.

What is prayer? It is a shaking up of your feelings, a melting down of your heart, an impossibility to contain something which you feel within yourself— an impossibility to contain the thought of God within yourself. You cannot contain it; it is beyond you; it breaks the feelings; it clutches the heart; you are overcome by it. That is prayer. Sri Ramakrishna Parmahamsa used to say it is something like a mad elephant entering a little hut and thrashing it to pieces. This is what will happen to you when God enters you. Sometimes He will break you completely, but it is good to be broken if it is God that breaks you. It is good to be drowned in the sea if the sea is Godhood, so do not be afraid of being broken, and do not be afraid of being drowned. Prayer is, therefore, not merely an uttering of words which, of course, may be one of the forms of prayer, but actually it is the heart shivering, trembling, gesticulating, and feeling that it is getting crushed by the weight of that mighty abundance. This is one of the methods of worship.

Dasyam: “Servant of God am I. Master, you are everything.” You consider yourself as master of nothing, and the master of everything is God. You are nothing, a master of nothing, a humble servant. Dāsa-dāsa-dāsānudāsaḥ (CC Madhya 13.80). A devotee said, “I am the servant of the servant of the servant of the servant of the servant of the servant of the servant of God.” So very low he placed himself. “Grass-like you have to be,” said Chaitanya Mahaprabhu. Who is the person fit to chant the name of God? Everybody cannot utter the name of Hari. Tṛṇād api su-nīcena taror iva sahiṣṇunā, amāninā māna-dena kīrtanīyaḥ sadā hariḥ (CC Adi 17.31): You must be like grass. Let people trample on it; it will not prick you because it bends down. After you walk over, it raises its head again. So let the world trample on you. Be humbler than a blade of grass, more patient than a tree that is being cut. People cut trees; they chop off branches, but the tree does not complain. Afterwards it puts forth some little tendrils, little leaves. Have you seen how patient trees are? They will, after all, yield some fruit one day to the very man who chopped off their branches. Be humbler than a blade of grass bending down, and more patient than a tree that tolerates any kind of insult that is visited upon it.

Never expect respect from anybody. Not even a word of thanks do you expect from a person, but you must respect everybody and thank everybody for every little goodness or gesture that has been shown to you: “Thank you, thank you. Very grateful, very grateful.” But do not expect to hear those words yourself. Let not anybody say to you these things, because your ego will get propped up if somebody thanks you. Expect not any kind of recognition or thanking for yourself, but thank others, respect others, adore others. Consider yourself as nothing, but others as everything. Your ego will be no more there. It is finished.

“Such a person alone can have the right to chant the name of Hari,” said the great saint Chaitanya Mahaprabhu. Humbler than a blade of grass, more patient than a tree that is being cut, giving respect to all but expecting respect from nobody, only such a person can chant the name of God, because it is the name of God, in the abode of God, in the being of God, that the traits of ego are not there. It is the highest reach of egolessness. Therefore, how can an ego-ridden man take the name of God? So consider yourself as a servant of God. That is one method.

Sakhyam. Sometimes you are in an elevated mood, as if you have encountered God Himself, as if you have rubbed shoulders with Him and walked on the street with Him. “Come on my dear, let us walk.” That is a very great stage. Now you cannot consider God as your friend, but when you reach a very advanced state of God-consciousness, you feel He is with you always. God walks with you on the street, He shakes hands with you, He dances with you, He takes breakfast with you, He chats with you, He lies down with you, He is together with you as Nara Narayana, as two brothers inseparable from each other. You and God are always together, inseparable. This is a very advanced state of devotion. You dare not consider God as your friend unless you have risen to that status, but this is also a form of devotion.

Atma-nivedanam is the last, the ninth method—complete surrender. The ego melts as salt melts in the sea, as night melts when the sun rises. You cease to be when God is. A poetic line is: When shall I be free? When I shall cease to be.