The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 4/Lectures and Discourses/Christ, the Messenger
CHRIST, THE MESSENGER
(Delivered at Los Angeles, California, 1900)
The wave rises on the ocean, and there is a hollow. Again another wave
rises, perhaps bigger than the former, to fall down again, similarly, again
to rise — driving onward. In the march of events, we notice the rise and
fall, and we generally look towards the rise, forgetting the fall. But both
are necessary, and both are great. This is the nature of the universe.
Whether in the world of our thoughts, the world of our relations in society,
or in our spiritual affairs, the same movement of succession, of rises and
falls, is going on. Hence great predominances in the march of events, the
liberal ideals, are marshalled ahead, to sink down, to digest, as it were,
to ruminate over the past — to adjust, to conserve, to gather strength once
more for a rise and a bigger rise.
The history of nations also has ever been like that. The great soul, the
Messenger we are to study this afternoon, came at a period of the history of
his race which we may well designate as a great fall. We catch only little
glimpses here and there of the stray records that have been kept of his
sayings and doings; for verily it has been well said, that the doings and
sayings of that great soul would fill the world if they had all been written
down. And the three years of his ministry were like one compressed,
concentrated age, which it has taken nineteen hundred years to unfold, and
who knows how much longer it will yet take! Little men like you and me are
simply the recipients of just a little energy. A few minutes, a few hours, a
few years at best, are enough to spend it all, to stretch it out, as it
were, to its fullest strength, and then we are gone for ever. But mark this
giant that came; centuries and ages pass, yet the energy that he left upon
the world is not yet stretched, nor yet expended to its full. It goes on
adding new vigour as the ages roll on.
Now what you see in the life of Christ is the life of all the past. The life
of every man is, in a manner, the life of the past. It comes to him through
heredity, through surroundings, through education, through his own
reincarnation — the past of the race. In a manner, the past of the earth,
the past of the whole world is there, upon every soul. What are we, in the
present, but a result, an effect, in the hands of that infinite past? What
are we but floating waveless in the eternal current of events, irresistibly
moved forward and onward and incapable of rest? But you and I are only
little things, bubbles. There are always some giant waves in the ocean of
affairs, and in you and me the life of the past race has been embodied only
a little; but there are giants who embody, as it were, almost the whole of
the past and who stretch out their hands for the future. These are the
sign-posts here and there which point to the march of humanity; these are
verily gigantic, their shadows covering the earth — they stand undying,
eternal! As it has been said by the same Messenger, "No man hath seen God at
any time, but through the Son." And that is true. And where shall we see God
but in the Son? It is true that you and I, and the poorest of us, the
meanest even, embody that God, even reflect that God. The vibration of light
is everywhere, omnipresent; but we have to strike the light of the lamp
before we can see the light. The Omnipresent God of the universe cannot be
seen until He is reflected by these giant lamps of the earth — The Prophets,
the man-Gods, the Incarnations, the embodiments of God.
We all know that God exists, and yet we do not see Him, we do not understand
Him. Take one of these great Messengers of light, compare his character with
the highest ideal of God that you ever formed, and you will find that your
God falls short of the ideal, and that the character of the Prophet exceeds
your conceptions. You cannot even form a higher ideal of God than what the
actually embodied have practically realised and set before us as an example.
Is it wrong, therefore, to worship these as God? Is it a sin to fall at the
feet of these man-Gods and worship them as the only divine beings in the
world? If they are really, actually, higher than all our conceptions of God,
what harm is there in worshipping them? Not only is there no harm, but it is
the only possible and positive way of worship. However much you may try by
struggle, by abstraction, by whatsoever method you like, still so long as
you are a man in the world of men, your world is human, your religion is
human, and your God is human. And that must be so. Who is not practical
enough to take up an actually existing thing and give up an idea which is
only an abstraction, which he cannot grasp, and is difficult of approach
except through a concrete medium? Therefore, these Incarnations of God have
been worshipped in all ages and in all countries.
We are now going to study a little of the life of Christ, the Incarnation of
the Jews. When Christ was born, the Jews were in that state which I call a
state of fall between two waves; a state of conservatism; a state where the
human mind is, as it were, tired for the time being of moving forward and is
taking care only of what it has already; a state when the attention is more
bent upon particulars, upon details, than upon the great, general, and
bigger problems of life; a state of stagnation, rather than a towing ahead;
a state of suffering more than of doing. Mark you, I do not blame this state
of things. We have no right to criticise it — because had it not been for
this fall, the next rise, which was embodied in Jesus of Nazareth would have
been impossible. The Pharisees and Sadducees might have been insincere, they
might have been doing things which they ought not to have done; they might
have been even hypocrites; but whatever they were, these factors were the
very cause, of which the Messenger was the effect. The Pharisees and
Sadducees at one end were the very impetus which came out at the other end
as the gigantic brain of Jesus of Nazareth.
The attention to forms, to formulas, to the everyday details of religion,
and to rituals, may sometimes be laughed at; but nevertheless, within them
is strength. Many times in the rushing forward we lose much strength. As a
fact, the fanatic is stronger than the liberal man. Even the fanatic,
therefore, has one great virtue, he conserves energy, a tremendous amount of
it. As with the individual so with the race, energy is gathered to be
conserved. Hemmed in all around by external enemies, driven to focus in a
centre by the Romans, by the Hellenic tendencies in the world of intellect,
by waves from Persia, India, and Alexandria — hemmed in physically,
mentally, and morally — there stood the race with an inherent, conservative,
tremendous strength, which their descendants have not lost even today. And
the race was forced to concentrate and focus all its energies upon Jerusalem
and Judaism. But all power when once gathered cannot remain collected; it
must expend and expand itself. There is no power on earth which can be kept
long confined within a narrow limit. It cannot be kept compressed too long
to allow of expansion at a subsequent period.
This concentrated energy amongst the Jewish race found its expression at the
next period in the rise of Christianity. The gathered streams collected into
a body. Gradually, all the little streams joined together, and became a
surging wave on the top of which we find standing out the character of Jesus
of Nazareth. Thus, every Prophet is a creation of his own times, the
creation of the past of his race; he himself is the creator of the future.
The cause of today is the effect of the past and the cause for the future.
In this position stands the Messenger. In him is embodied all that is the
best and greatest in his own race, the meaning, the life, for which that
race has struggled for ages; and he himself is the impetus for the future,
not only to his own race but to unnumbered other races of the world.
We must bear another fact in mind: that my view of the great Prophet of
Nazareth would be from the standpoint of the Orient. Many times you forget,
also, that the Nazarene himself was an Oriental of Orientals. With all your
attempts to paint him with blue eyes and yellow hair, the Nazarene was still
an Oriental. All the similes, the imageries, in which the Bible is written
— the scenes, the locations, the attitudes, the groups, the poetry, and
symbol, — speak to you of the Orient: of the bright sky, of the heat, of the
sun, of the desert, of the thirsty men and animals; of men and women coming
with pitchers on their heads to fill them at the wells; of the flocks, of
the ploughmen, of the cultivation that is going on around; of the water-mill
and wheel, of the mill-pond, of the millstones. All these are to be seen
today in Asia.
The voice of Asia has been the voice of religion. The voice of Europe is the
voice of politics. Each is great in its own sphere. The voice of Europe is
the voice of ancient Greece. To the Greek mind, his immediate society was
all in all: beyond that, it is Barbarian. None but the Greek has the right
to live. Whatever the Greeks do is right and correct; whatever else there
exists in the world is neither right nor correct, nor should be allowed to
live. It is intensely human in its sympathies, intensely natural, intensely
artistic, therefore. The Greek lives entirely in this world. He does not
care to dream. Even his poetry is practical. His gods and goddesses are not
only human beings, but intensely human, with all human passions and feelings
almost the same as with any of us. He loves what is beautiful, but mind
you, it is always external nature: the beauty of the hills, of the snows, of
the flowers, the beauty of forms and of figures, the beauty in the human
face, and, more often, in the human form — that is what the Greeks liked.
And the Greeks being the teachers of all subsequent Europeanism, the voice
of Europe is Greek.
There is another type in Asia. Think of that vast, huge continent, whose
mountain-tops go beyond the clouds, almost touching the canopy of heaven's
blue; a rolling desert of miles upon miles where a drop of water cannot be
found, neither will a blade of grass grow; interminable forests and gigantic
rivers rushing down into the sea. In the midst of all these surroundings,
the oriental love of the beautiful and of the sublime developed itself in
another direction. It looked inside, and not outside. There is also the
thirst for nature, and there is also the same thirst for power; there is
also the same thirst for excellence, the same idea of the Greek and
Barbarian, but it has extended over a larger circle. In Asia, even today,
birth or colour or language never makes a race. That which makes a race is
its religion. We are all Christians; we are all Mohammedans; we are all
Hindus, or all Buddhists. No matter if a Buddhist is a Chinaman, or is a man
from Persia, they think that they are brothers, because of their professing
the same religion. Religion is the tie, unity of humanity. And then again,
the Oriental, for the same reason, is a visionary, is a born dreamer. The
ripples of the waterfalls, the songs of the birds, the beauties of the sun
and moon and the stars and the whole earth are pleasant enough; but they are
not sufficient for the oriental mind; He wants to dream a dream beyond. He
wants to go beyond the present. The present, as it were, is nothing to him.
The Orient has been the cradle of the human race for ages, and all the
vicissitudes of fortune are there — kingdoms succeeding kingdoms, empires
succeeding empires, human power, glory, and wealth, all rolling down there:
a Golgotha of power and learning. That is the Orient: a Golgotha of power,
of kingdoms, of learning. No wonder, the oriental mind looks with contempt
upon the things of this world and naturally wants to see something that
changeth not, something which dieth not, something which in the midst of
this world of misery and death is eternal, blissful, undying. An oriental
Prophet never tires of insisting upon these ideals; and, as for Prophets,
you may also remember that without one exception, all the Messengers were
Orientals.
We see, therefore, in the life of this area: Messenger of life, the first
watchword: "Not this life, but something higher"; and, like the true son of
the Orient, he is practical in that. You people of the West are practical in
your own department, in military affairs, and in managing political circles
and other things. Perhaps the Oriental is not practical in those ways, but
he is practical in his own field; he is practical in religion. If one
preaches a philosophy, tomorrow there are hundreds who will struggle their
best to make it practical in their lives. If a man preaches that standing on
one foot would lead one to salvation, he will immediately get five hundred
to stand on one foot. You may call it ludicrous; but, mark you, beneath that
is their philosophy — that intense practicality. In the West, plans of
salvation mean intellectual gymnastics — plans which are never worked out,
never brought into practical life. In the West, the preacher who talks the
best is the greatest preacher.
So, we find Jesus of Nazareth, in the first place, the true son of the
Orient, intensely practical. He has no faith in this evanescent world and
all its belongings. No need of text-torturing, as is the fashion in the West
in modern times, no need of stretching out texts until the, will not stretch
any more. Texts are not India rubber, and even that has its limits. Now, no
making of religion to pander to the sense vanity of the present day! Mark
you, let us all be honest. If we cannot follow the ideal, let us confess our
weakness, but not degrade it; let not any try to pull it down. One gets sick
at heart at the different accounts of the life of the Christ that Western
people give. I do not know what he was or what he was not! One would make
him a great politician; another, perhaps, would make of him a great military
general; another, a great patriotic Jew; and so on. Is there any warrant in
the books for all such assumptions? The best commentary on the life of a
great teacher is his own life. "The foxes have holes, the birds of the air
have nests, but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head." That is what
Christ says as they only way to salvation; he lays down no other way. Let us
confess in sackcloth and ashes that we cannot do that. We still have
fondness for "me and mine". We want property, money, wealth. Woe unto us!
Let us confess and not put to shame that great Teacher of Humanity! He had
no family ties. But do you think that, that Man had any physical ideas in
him? Do you think that, this mass of light, this God and not-man, came down
to earth, to be the brother of animals? And yet, people make him preach all
sorts of things. He had no sex ideas! He was a soul! Nothing but a soul —
just working a body for the good of humanity; and that was all his relation
to the body. In the soul there is no sex. The disembodied soul has no
relationship to the animal, no relationship to the body. The ideal may be
far away beyond us. But never mind, keep to the ideal. Let us confess that
it is our ideal, but we cannot approach it yet.
He had no other occupation in life, no other thought except that one, that
he was a spirit. He was a disembodied, unfettered, unbound spirit. And not
only so, but he, with his marvellous vision, had found that every man and
woman, whether Jew or Gentile, whether rich or poor, whether saint or
sinner, was the embodiment of the same undying spirit as himself. Therefore,
the one work his whole life showed was to call upon them to realise their
own spiritual nature. Give up, he says, these superstitious dreams that you
are low and that you are poor. Think not that you are trampled upon and
tyrannised over as if you were slaves, for within you is something that can
never be tyrannised over, never be trampled upon, never be troubled, never
be killed. You are all Sons of God, immortal spirit. "Know", he declared,
"the Kingdom of Heaven is within you." "I and my Father are one." Dare you
stand up and say, not only that "I am the Son of God", but I shall also find
in my heart of hearts that "I and my Father are one"? That was what Jesus of
Nazareth said. He never talks of this world and of this life. He has nothing
to do with it, except that he wants to get hold of the world as it is, give
it a push and drive it forward and onward until the whole world has reached
to the effulgent Light of God, until everyone has realised his spiritual
nature, until death is vanished and misery banished.
We have read the different stories that have been written about him; we know
the scholars and their writings, and the higher criticism; and we know all
that has been done by study. We are not here to discuss how much of the New
Testament is true, we are not here to discuss how much of that life is
historical. It does not matter at all whether the New Testament was written
within five hundred years of his birth, nor does it matter even, how much of
that life is true. But there is something behind it, something we want to
imitate. To tell a lie, you have to imitate a truth, and that truth is a
fact. You cannot imitate that which never existed. You cannot imitate that
which you never perceived. But there must have been a nucleus, a tremendous
power that came down, a marvellous manifestation of spiritual power — and of
that we are speaking. It stands there. Therefore, we are not afraid of all
the criticisms of the scholars. If I, as an Oriental, have to worship Jesus
of Nazareth, there is only one way left to me, that is, to worship him as
God and nothing else. Have we no right to worship him in that way, do you
mean to say? If we bring him down to our own level and simply pay him a
little respect as a great man, why should we worship at all? Our scriptures
say, "These great children of Light, who manifest the Light themselves, who
are Light themselves, they, being worshipped, become, as it were, one with
us and we become one with them."
For, you see, in three ways man perceives God. At first the undeveloped
intellect of the uneducated man sees God as far away, up in the heavens
somewhere, sitting on a throne as a great Judge. He looks upon Him as a
fire, as a terror. Now, that is good, for there is nothing bad in it. You
must remember that humanity travels not from error to truth, but from truth
to truth; it may be, if you like it better, from lower truth to higher
truth, but never from error to truth. Suppose you start from here and travel
towards the sun in a straight line. From here the sun looks only small in
size. Suppose you go forward a million miles, the sun will be much bigger.
At every stage the sun will become bigger and bigger. Suppose twenty
thousand photographs had been taken of the same sun, from different
standpoints; these twenty thousand photographs will all certainly differ
from one another. But can you deny that each is a photograph of the same
sun? So all forms of religion, high or low, are just different stages toward
that eternal state of Light, which is God Himself. Some embody a lower view,
some a higher, and that is all the difference. Therefore, the religions of
the unthinking masses all over the world must be, and have always been, of a
God who is outside of the universe, who lives in heaven, who governs from
that place, who is a punisher of the bad and a rewarder of the good, and so
on. As man advanced spiritually, he began to feel that God was omnipresent,
that He must be in him, that He must be everywhere, that He was not a
distant God, but dearly the Soul of all souls. As my soul moves my body,
even so is God the mover of my soul. Soul within soul. And a few individuals
who had developed enough and were pure enough, went still further, and at
last found God. As the New Testament says, "Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they shall see God." And they found at last that they and the Father
were one.
You find that all these three stages are taught by the Great Teacher in the
New Testament. Note the Common Prayer he taught: "Our Father which art in
Heaven, hallowed be Thy name," and so on — a simple prayer, a child's
prayer. Mark you, it is the "Common Prayer" because it is intended for the
uneducated masses. To a higher circle, to those who had advanced a little
more, he gave a more elevated teaching: "I am in my Father, and ye in me,
and I in you." Do you remember that? And then, when the Jews asked him who
he was, he declared that he and his Father were one, and the Jews thought
that that was blasphemy. What did he mean by that? This has been also told
by your old Prophets, "Ye are gods and all of you are children of the Most
High." Mark the same three stages. You will find that it is easier for you
to begin with the first and end with the last.
The Messenger came to show the path: that the spirit is not in forms, that
it is not through all sorts of vexations and knotty problems of philosophy
that you know the spirit. Better that you had no learning, better that you
never read a book in your life. These are not at all necessary for salvation
— neither wealth, nor position nor power, not even learning; but what is
necessary is that one thing, purity. "Blessed are the pure in heart," for
the spirit in its own nature is pure. How can it be otherwise? It is of God,
it has come from God. In the language of the Bible, "It is the breath of
God." In the language of the Koran, "It is the soul of God." Do you mean to
say that the Spirit of God can ever be impure? But, alas, it has been, as it
were, covered over with the dust and dirt of ages, through our own actions,
good and evil. Various works which were not correct, which were not true,
have covered the same spirit with the dust and dirt of the ignorance of
ages. It is only necessary to clear away the dust and dirt, and then the
spirit shines immediately. "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall
see God." "The Kingdom of Heaven is within you." Where goest thou to seek
for the Kingdom of God, asks Jesus of Nazareth, when it is there, within
you? Cleanse the spirit, and it is there. It is already yours. How can you
get what is not yours? It is yours by right. You are the heirs of
immortality, sons of the Eternal Father.
This is the great lesson of the Messenger, and another which is the basis of
all religions, is renunciation. How can you make the spirit pure? By
renunciation. A rich young man asked Jesus, "Good Master, what shall I do
that I may inherit eternal life?" And Jesus said unto him, "One thing thou
lackest; go thy way, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the poor, and
thou shalt have treasures in heaven: and come, take up thy cross, and follow
Me." And he was sad at that saying and went away grieved; for he had great
possessions. We are all more or less like that. The voice is ringing in our
ears day and night. In the midst of our pleasures and joys, in the midst of
worldly things, we think that we have forgotten everything else. Then comes
a moment's pause and the voice rings in our ears "Give up all that thou hast
and follow Me." "Whosoever will save his life shall lose it; and whosoever
shall lose his life for My sake shall find it." For whoever gives up this
life for His sake, finds the life immortal. In the midst of all our weakness
there is a moment of pause and the voice rings: "Give up all that thou hast;
give it to the poor and follow me." This is the one ideal he preaches, and
this has been the ideal preached by all the great Prophets of the world:
renunciation. What is meant by renunciation? That there is only one ideal in
morality: unselfishness. Be selfless. The ideal is perfect unselfishness.
When a man is struck on the right cheek, he turns the left also. When a
man's coat is carried off, he gives away his cloak also.
We should work in the best way we can, without dragging the ideal down. Here
is the ideal. When a man has no more self in him, no possession, nothing to
call "me" or "mine", has given himself up entirely, destroyed himself as it
were — in that man is God Himself; for in him self-will is gone, crushed
out, annihilated. That is the ideal man. We cannot reach that state yet;
yet, let us worship the ideal, and slowly struggle to reach the ideal,
though, maybe, with faltering steps. It may be tomorrow, or it may be a
thousand years hence; but that ideal has to be reached. For it is not only
the end, but also the means. To be unselfish, perfectly selfless, is
salvation itself; for the man within dies, and God alone remains.
One more point. All the teachers of humanity are unselfish. Suppose Jesus of
Nazareth was teaching; and a man came and told him, "What you teach is
beautiful. I believe that it is the way to perfection, and I am ready to
follow it; but I do not care to worship you as the only begotten Son of
God." What would be the answer of Jesus of Nazareth? "Very well, brother,
follow the ideal and advance in your own way. I do not care whether you give
me the credit for the teaching or not. I am not a shopkeeper. I do not trade
in religion. I only teach truth, and truth is nobody's property. Nobody can
patent truth. Truth is God Himself. Go forward." But what the disciples say
nowadays is: "No matter whether you practise the teachings or not, do you
give credit to the Man? If you credit the Master, you will be saved; if not,
there is no salvation for you." And thus the whole teaching of the Master is
degenerated, and all the struggle and fight is for the personality of the
Man. They do not know that in imposing that difference, they are, in a
manner, bringing shame to the very Man they want to honour — the very Man
that would have shrunk with shame from such an idea. What did he care if
there was one man in the world that remembered him or not? He had to deliver
his message, and he gave it. And if he had twenty thousand lives, he would
give them all up for the poorest man in the world. If he had to be tortured
millions of times for a million despised Samaritans, and if for each one of
them the sacrifice of his own life would be the only condition of salvation,
he would have given his life. And all this without wishing to have his name
known even to a single person. Quiet, unknown, silent, would he work, just
as the Lord works. Now, what would the disciple say? He will tell you that
you may be a perfect man, perfectly unselfish; but unless you give the
credit to our teacher, to our saint, it is of no avail. Why? What is the
origin of this superstition, this ignorance? The disciple thinks that the
Lord can manifest Himself only once. There lies the whole mistake. God
manifests Himself to you in man. But throughout nature, what happens once
must have happened before, and must happen in future. There is nothing in
nature which is not bound by law; and that means that whatever happens once
must go on and must have been going on.
In India they have the same idea of the Incarnations of God. One of their
great Incarnations, Krishna, whose grand sermon, the Bhagavad-Gitâ, some of
you might have read, says, "Though I am unborn, of changeless nature, and
Lord of beings, yet subjugating My Prakriti, I come into being by My own
Mâyâ. Whenever virtue subsides and immorality prevails, then I body Myself
forth. For the protection of the good, for the destruction of the wicked,
and for the establishment of Dharma, I come into being, in every age."
Whenever the world goes down, the Lord comes to help it forward; and so He
does from time to time and place to place. In another passage He speaks to
this effect: Wherever thou findest a great soul of immense power and purity
struggling to raise humanity, know that he is born of My splendour, that I
am there working through him.
Let us, therefore, find God not only in Jesus of Nazareth, but in all the
great Ones that have preceded him, in all that came after him, and all that
are yet to come. Our worship is unbounded and free. They are all
manifestations of the same Infinite God. They are all pure and unselfish;
they struggled and gave up their lives for us, poor human beings. They each
and all suffer vicarious atonement for every one of us, and also for all
that are to come hereafter.
In a sense you are all Prophets; every one of you is a Prophet, bearing the
burden of the world on your own shoulders. Have you ever seen a man, have
you ever seen a woman, who is not quietly, patiently, bearing his or her
little burden of life? The great Prophets were giants — they bore a gigantic
world on their shoulders. Compared with them we are pigmies, no doubt, yet
we are doing the same task; in our little circles, in our little homes, we
are bearing our little crosses. There is no one so evil, no one so
worthless, but he has to bear his own cross. But with all our mistakes, with
all our evil thoughts and evil deeds, there is a bright spot somewhere,
there is still somewhere the golden thread through which we are always in
touch with the divine. For, know for certain, that the moment the touch of
the divine is lost there would be annihilation. And because none can be
annihilated, there is always somewhere in our heart of hearts, however low
and degraded we may be, a little circle of light which is in constant touch
with the divine.
Our salutations go to all the past Prophets whose teachings and lives we
have inherited, whatever might have been their race, clime, or creed! Our
salutations go to all those Godlike men and women who are working to help
humanity, whatever be their birth, colour, or race! Our salutations to those
who are coming in the future — living Gods — to work unselfishly for our
descendants.