A Commentary on the Upanishads by Swami Nirmalananda Giri -3

A Commentary

on the Upanishads

by

Swami Nirmalananda Giri

The Inner Fire

Because bodies are cremated in India, the final verse of the Isha Upanishad

addressed to Agni (Fire) is recited when the crematory fire is lighted. But the

upanishadic rishis had a far more profound intention when they intoned:

“O god Agni, lead us to felicity. Thou knowest all our deeds. Preserve us from the

deceitful attraction of sin. To thee we offer our salutations, again and yet again!” (Isha

Upanishad 18)

Agni

The most prevalently venerated natural force throughout the history of humanity is

the sun. The next is fire, which was considered a divine gift. Fire is a mystery.

Throughout my schooling, from grade school to university, I asked many teachers:

WHAT is fire? Nobody gave me any answer, much less an accurate-seeming one.

A friend of mine once pointed out an interesting fact about fire. When people–

especially young boys or girls–sit around an open fire, the subject of the supernatural

in some form or other usually comes up. Ghost stories around the campfire are a staple

of campers. How is this? My friend said that it was because fire stimulates awareness

of the unseen levels of existence. Certainly this was the opinion in India where fire was

considered a channel of communication between this world and the subtle worlds.

Long before Christians were lighting candles in church to convey their prayers to

Christ and the saints, in India people were reciting prayers in the presence of fire and

making offerings into the fire, confident that the prayers and offerings would be

transferred by the fire to their intended recipients. Consider in our own time how

much attention and meaning is attached to the Olympic Flame–really only a shadow of

the original Greek fire.

Everything has multiple layers to its existence, one of which is ideational. That is,

everything that exists is a thought in the divine mind. Consequently everything is both

meaningful and symbolic. To the yogis of India fire became a most significant symbol,

the symbol of the will of the yogi and the transforming power of yoga itself. So much

so, that yoga practice came to be called tapasya–the generation of heat. In the

twentieth century, Sri Aurobindo Ghosh wrote extensively on this subject, especially in

relation to the yogic symbolism of the Vedic hymns.

Fire and meditation

In Vedic religion the fire rite, the Agnihotra or Havan, is the supreme ritual act. It is

emblematic of the soul’s progression to divinity, and its elements and actions can be

studied to reveal many secrets of esoteric life and unfoldment. The sacred fire is

kindled by the friction of two wooden sticks called aranis or drills. This is an important

symbol, for it is considered that the fire is latent in the wood until the friction causes it

to manifest. In the same way, enlightenment is latent in the yogi, awaiting the right

conditions to be provided for its manifestation.

“As the form of fire when latent in its source is not seen and yet its seed is not

destroyed, but may be seized again and again in its source by means of the drill [a

pointed stick whirled to produce fire for the Vedic sacrifices], so it is in both cases. The

Self has to be seized in the body by means of the Syllable Om. By making one’s body

the lower friction stick and the Syllable Om the upper friction stick, by practicing the

friction of meditation one may see the hidden God, as it were.” (Svetasvatara

Upanishad 1:13, 14) We are the lower arani, and Om is the upper arani. When they are

brought together and made to interact with one another through the japa and

meditation of Om, God is revealed to the meditator both within and without. The

Hidden becomes manifest, and the Unseen becomes seen through Pranava Yoga.

“Through Om the Lord is met face to face.” wrote Shankara in his commentary on the

Yoga Sutras.

“Having made oneself the lower arani, and the Pranava the upper arani and rubbing

them together through the practice of meditation, see the Lord in His hidden

reality.” (Brahma Upanishad 4)

“Making the atman the lower arani and Om the upper arani, and practising the

friction of meditation, one should apply himself to the best of his strength to the

resonance of the sound of Omkara.” (Dhyanabindu Upanishad 22, 23)

“By making his own inner sense [i.e., awareness] the lower arani and the Pranava

the upper arani, the accomplished adept completely burns up and reduces to ashes his

ignorance of the atman.” (Kaivalya Upanishad 11)

We see from these upanishadic statements that fire represents meditation, the

effects of meditation, and Om, “the Word that is God.” (Bhagavad Gita 7:8) With this in

mind we can unravel the intentions of the rishis when they prayed: “O god Agni, lead

us to felicity. Thou knowest all our deeds. Preserve us from the deceitful attraction of

sin. To thee we offer our salutations, again and yet again!”

Lead us to felicity

Spiritual practice and the will to practice must go together. Knowing what to do, but

having no interest to do it will get us nowhere. At the same time, wanting to succeed

and not knowing how is equally useless. But put the two together for the necessary

time, and all benefit will be ours. Agni represents the radiance of our self and of God as

well as that which is produced by sadhana practice. These three fires will light our way

to blessedness. But their combined effect will not just show us the way, it will lead us

along the way, illumining our heart and minds with the requisite wisdom for spiritual

attainment. It will also draw us along the path, but only in the degree that we are

actively walking the path. This is indicated in the Song of Solomon when he prays:

“Draw me, we will run after thee.” (Song of Solomon 1:4) Both God and man must

actively “seek” each other. It is said in India: “When someone chooses God you can

know that God has chosen them.” The liberating power we call Agni is the result of

these two forces meeting and combining with one another.

Thou knowest all our deeds

After one of his classes on the Narada Bhakti Sutras, Swami Prabhavananda was

asked how a person could avoid spiritual pride. His answer was remarkable: You

cannot develop spiritual pride if your spiritual practice is correct, for you see yourself

correctly and can neither fall into pride or despair. This is certainly true. The light of

tapasya reveals all about ourselves we need to know. Self-knowledge, even if

fragmentary or dim at the beginning, is an immediate fruit of right meditation, and will

in time develop into the full light of spiritual “day.” The Eastern Orthodox hymn to

Saint Nicholas begins: “The truth of things revealed thee….” This is profoundly true.

When we begin approaching the Real, the Truth becomes revealed, both the Truth of

God and the truth of us.

Preserve us from the deceitful attraction of sin

Understanding the nature and consequences of our deeds, we will learn how to

truly live as Krishna outlined in the Bhagavad Gita, especially the second chapter. At

the closing of the third chapter, Arjuna asks: “Krishna, what is it that makes a man do

evil, even against his own will; under compulsion, as it were?” To which Krishna

replies:

“The rajoguna has two faces, rage and lust [kama: desire]: the ravenous, the

deadly: recognize these: they are your enemies. Smoke hides fire, dust hides a mirror,

the womb hides the embryo: by lust the Atman is hidden. Lust hides the Atman in its

hungry flames, the wise man’s faithful foe. Intellect, senses and mind are fuel to its fire:

thus it deludes the dweller in the body, bewildering his judgment. Therefore, Arjuna,

you must first control your senses, then kill this evil thing which obstructs

discriminative knowledge and realization of the Atman. The senses are said to be

higher than the sense-objects. The mind is higher than the senses. The intelligent will

is higher than the mind. What is higher than the intelligent will? The Atman Itself. You

must know Him who is above the intelligent will. Get control of the mind through

spiritual discrimination. Then destroy your elusive enemy, who wears the form of lust.”

Meditation and other forms of sadhana are that which protects us from the

attraction of folly and ignorance. Wherefore Krishna asks: “The uncontrolled mind

does not guess that the Atman is present: how can it meditate? Without meditation,

where is peace? Without peace, where is happiness?” (Bhagavad Gita 2:66)

To thee we offer our salutations, again and yet again!

There are those who think that sadhana is medicine, a “have to” that they can sigh

and grouch about and grudgingly engage in. They are wrong! Their very attitude will

destroy any benefits the sadhana might bestow. They should forget about spiritual

practice until they get enough good sense to rejoice in it and value it above all else.

That does not mean it will not be difficult and even a struggle, sometimes painful, but it

is their delusion that galls the wise, not the remedy for it. Meditation should be a kind

of “deity” for us by the grace of which we can worship the Divine and our own divine

self. The means of meditation should also be worshipped, and so the upanishads say:

“The Syllable Om is to be worshipped as consisting of Brahman, Who is

Satchidananda.…Because it delivers [saves], Om is called the Deliverer [Saving One:

Taraka]. It should be known as the saving [delivering] Brahman which should be

worshipped–mark this well.” (Rama Uttara Tapiniya Upanishad)

“That which is Om is the indestructible, the supreme Brahman. That alone should

be worshipped.…It is called Taraka because it enables one to cross this mundane

existence [samsara]. Know that Taraka [Om] alone is Brahman and It alone should be

worshipped.…He who knows this becomes immortal.” (Tarasara Upanishad)

“Omkara is the holiest of holy things.…it is holy and full of sanctifying things. One

shall worship Omkara,” says the Vayu Purana.

Shankara said it even more pointedly in his commentary on the Brihadaranyaka

Upanishad: “Just as the image of Vishnu or any other god is regarded as identical with

that god (for purposes of worship), so is Om to be treated as Brahman.” And in his

commentary on the Chandogya Upanishad: “The syllable Om is the inmost essence of

all essences. It is supreme because of Its being the symbol of the Supreme Self. It is

competent to be worshipped as the Supreme Self. It is competent to take the place of

the Supreme Self since It is to be worshipped like the Supreme Self.…The Vedic rites

are meant for the worship of the very Om because It is a symbol of the Supreme Self.

The worship of That [Om] is surely the worship of the supreme Self.”

“To thee we offer our salutations, again and yet again!”

The Past is the Future

In very ancient times a man named Vajasrabasa decided to perform a rite intended

to give the performer great merit. The rite entailed the giving away of all the

performer’s possessions. However he had no such intention, and instead was going to

give away only his cattle–and of them only the useless ones: the old, the barren, the

blind, and the lame. His son, Nachiketa, observing this, came to his father and said:

“Father, do not repent thy vow! Consider how it has been with those that have gone

before, and how it will be with those that now live. Like corn, a man ripens and falls to

the ground; like corn, he springs up again in his season.” (Katha Upanishad 1:1:6)

There is no use denying it: we all follow in the path of Vajrabasa on occasion,

though some do it more exuberantly. This is especially deadly in the realm of spiritual

life.

I well remember when two newly-made Indian friends from South India asked me

wonderingly: “What is an ‘Indian giver’?” When I said it meant someone who promised

but did not deliver, or who gave and then took back, they were really bewildered. But

when I explained that it was not the Indians who were the “givers” but the deceitful

white men, they understood–and to my confusion thought it was very funny. (When I

told them about “Honest Injun?” and “The only good Indian is a dead Indian” they

laughed till they cried, and thereafter frequently asked: “Honest Injun?” when I told

them something.) It is not funny when we are “Indian givers” in spiritual life, just as

double-tongued and devious with God and our own spirit as the politicians were with

the Native Americans.

One of the funniest and most typical examples is found in the comic motion picture,

The End. In one scene Burt Reynolds is swimming in the ocean about to drown. He

starts shouting out to God how much of his income he vows to give if he survives. The

percentage goes up and up to the total amount. But then he sees that there is a chance

he may make it back to shore. So the percentage starts dropping in proportion to how

near he gets to the land! Finally he is telling God that he will be giving nothing, and if

God does not like it, that is just too bad. We are very much (often exactly) like that

ourselves. When we think we are not going to have something, or will have no use for

it, we generously offer it to God or renounce it. But the moment we see a need or a use

for it, then we announce to ourselves that God would not expect us to hand it over or

renounce it.

Many people start out spiritual life with great enthusiasm, ready to dedicate and

sacrifice in order to attain liberation. But as time goes by, the sands in the hourglass of

will and interest grow less and less, shifting back to the bottom level of ego and the

material life until what remains is so feeble and negligible it would be better if it, too,

were eliminated in honesty.

The principle that we reap only and exactly what we sow is an absolute in spiritual

life. Here are Saint Paul’s words on the subject: “Be not deceived; God is not mocked:

for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. For he that soweth to his flesh

shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit

reap life everlasting. And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall

reap, if we faint not.” (Galatians 6:7-9) Fainting is a very real possibility for all of us, and

that is why these warning words of Nachiketa were written in the upanishad: “Father,

do not repent thy vow! Consider how it has been with those that have gone before, and

how it will be with those that now live. Like corn, a man ripens and falls to the ground;

like corn, he springs up again in his season.”

The law of reaping what has been sown–and conversely not reaping what has not

been sown–is to be taken most seriously in all aspects of life, but especially in spiritual

matters. Solomon cautions us: “When thou vowest a vow unto God, defer not to pay it;

for…better is it that thou shouldest not vow, than that thou shouldest vow and not

pay.” (Ecclesiastes 5:4) The question here is not that of God being angry or sad at our

non-payment, but the negative effect our own perfidy will have on us directly. It is not

God that rewards and punishes, but our own self, and its justice is inexorable. So

asking God to release us or forgive us means positively nothing–it is our own self we

are dealing with and it cannot be gotten around in any degree whatsoever.

Sad to say, there are many examples of “those that have gone before” who foolishly

reneged on their own selves and suffered the consequences, from simple unhappiness

to abject and long-lasting misery, and even death. This latter is no exaggeration, I know

of examples myself. If you will excuse me, I will not cite any examples at all, for it is

simply too bleak. Just do not be one yourself! But I will tell you the principle I have

seen demonstrated over and over again: Whatever a person abandons his spiritual life to

keep or to gain will be (usually abruptly or even violently) taken away from him and he

will never regain or restart his spiritual life in this incarnation. I have never seen an

exception. Never. (I am, however, not speaking of merely risking or retarding the

personal spiritual life–we all do that just from making mistakes or from silly foibles–but

of the actual giving up and turning from, even rejecting of, one’s spiritual life and

obligations. This is fatal.)

At every step of our spiritual life we must keep in mind the law of cause and effect

and “consider how it has been with those that have gone before, and how it will be with

those that now live.” And lest we think that if we escape the karmic reaction in this life

we are “home free,” Nachiketa added: “Like corn, a man ripens and falls to the ground;

like corn, he springs up again in his season.” So there are future lives in which our

neglect can come to fruition in many forms–all inimical to our further progress.

Of course, the words of Nachiketa only have meaning to the wise. As Krishna told

Arjuna: “Even a wise man acts according to the tendencies of his own nature. All living

creatures follow their tendencies. What use is any external restraint? If a man keeps

following my teaching with faith in his heart, and does not make mental reservations,

he will be released from the bondage of his karma. But those who scorn my teaching,

and do not follow it, are lost. They are without spiritual discrimination. All their

knowledge is a delusion.” (Bhagavad Gita 3:33, 31, 32)

Seeing Death, Seeing Life

Om Tat Sat

                                                        

(Continued...) 

(My humble salutations H H Swami Nirmalananda Giri ji and   Hinduism online dot com for the collection)

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