“WISDOM FROM THE BHAGAVAD GITA”

 

A Sermon by the Rev. Bruce Clear

Sunday, March 12, 2006

All Souls Unitarian Church

Indianapolis, Indiana

 

 

NOTE:  I have placed “The Reading” section before the sermon here.  This section is unusual for a variety of reasons.  First, it is not “a reading” but rather a collection of comments from various sources connected by my own observations.  The purpose is not just to introduce the sermon, but rather to offer a context.  I recommend it be read before the sermon itself.   [BC] 

 

THE READING

 

            I confess that I chose today’s topic for somewhat selfish reasons.  In a nutshell, I was curious.  In much of the study I’ve done, especially with regard to the New England transcendentalists, I have seen frequent references to the Bhagavad Gita as an inspiring text to many leading thinkers in the Western world.  Though I do have some general understanding of the Hindu religion, I’ve never looked into the Bhagavad Gita to discover the insights that so many seem to have found there.  For quite a few years I’ve wanted to explore this phenomenon. 

            When I was approached by the choir to do a sermon series connected to the Hindu Vedas, I knew this might be a chance to satisfy my curiosity.  Though the Gita, as it is frequently called, is a separate Hindu scripture from the Vedas, which is the text used by the choir, I thought I would stretch a little and explore my long-standing curiosity about the Bhagavad Gita. 

            For this “Readings” section of the service, I want to do something a little different by explaining want I mean when I say I’ve seen frequent references to the Bhagavad Gita as an inspiration to important Western thinkers.  I will give a few examples here, brief quotes from a variety of people, beginning with the transcendentalists, and first among them, of course, Ralph Waldo Emerson.  When Emerson visited the great Poet Thomas Carlyle in England, Carlyle handed him an English translation of the Gita and said, “This is a most inspiring book; it has brought comfort and consolation in my life – I hope it will do the same to you.  Read it.”  Some years later in his journals, Emerson wrote,

 

“I owed a magnificent day to the Bhagavad Gita.  It was the first of books; it was as if an empire spake to us, nothing small or unworthy but large, serene, consistent, the voice of an old intelligence which in another age & climate had pondered & thus disposed of the same questions which exercise us.” 

 

            One of Emerson’s most famous poems is entitled “Brahma,” written in 1856, and the theme and imagery is said to be taken directly from the Gita.  There is little doubt that his writing was profoundly influence by Hindu sources, and he had a keen understanding of concepts such as karma and reincarnation.  For example, he once wrote that “Fate is nothing but deeds committed in a prior existence.”  This concept comes directly from Hindu philosophy. 

            Emerson’s closest colleague and friend, Henry David Thoreau, also expressed a devout fondness for the Gita.  He had a copy of it at his cabin when he wrote the book Walden, and reports in that book: 

 

“In the morning I bathe my intellect in the stupendous and cosmogonal philosophy of the Bhagavad Gita, since whose composition years of the gods have elapsed and in comparison with which our modern world and its literature seems puny and trivial.” 

 

Elsewhere Thoreau wrote,

 

“The reader is nowhere raised into and sustained in a higher, purer, or rarer region of thought than in the Bhagavat-Geeta. . .  Beside [it], even our Shakespeare seems sometimes youthfully green and practical merely.” 

 

            Thoreau’s reverence for nature expressed in the book Walden, as well as many other writings, seemed to reflect a Hindu understanding of pantheism – that God is expressed and experienced through the wonders of nature.  Nature is divinity on earth. 

            Western praise for this Eastern scripture extends beyond the classic New England transcendentalists.  Influenced by the transcendentalists, the poet Walt Whitman opened up an entirely new literary tradition in America, and became what many believe to be the quintessential American poet.  He, too, it turns out, was deeply influenced by the Gita.  His copy of the book was studied carefully, and became filled with margin notes and underlinings.  Emerson was quoted as saying that Whitman’s most famous work, Leaves of Grass, was “a mixture of the Bhagavad Gita and the New York Herald.” 

            The poet T.S. Eliot blended Christianity with a profound interest in Hindu scripture.  As Eliot biographer Philip Headings said, “No serious student of Eliot’s poetry can afford to ignore his early and continued interest in the Bhagavad Gita” 

            Albert Einstein said, “When I read the Bhagavad Gita and reflect about how God created this universe, everything else seems so superfluous.”  The German novelist Herman Hesse commented that “The marvel of the Bhagavad Gita is its truly beautiful revelation of life’s wisdom which enables philosophy to blossom into religion.”  Writer Aldous Huxley, who was born in England and became an American, said of this text,

 

“The Bhagavad Gita is the most systematic statement of spiritual evolution of endowing value to mankind.  It is one of the most clear and comprehensive summaries of perennial philosophy ever revealed; hence its enduring value is subject not only to India, but to all of humanity.” 

 

Physicist Robert Oppenheimer, the reluctant father of the atomic bomb who later disowned his creation, was fond of the Bhagavad Gita, and quoted it on the occasion of the first atomic bomb explosion.  These verses from the end of the Gita came to his mind at the time:

 

If a thousand suns were to rise

and stand in the noon sky, blazing,

such brilliance would be like the fierce

brilliance of that mighty Self [Brahman].

 

Then he quoted Krishna from the Gita, offering the darker side: 

 

… I am death, shatterer of worlds,

annihilating all things. 

 

            The greatest peace-maker of the twentieth century, Mahatma Gandhi, was raised in the Hindu religion, though he broadened his own religious ideas to a kind of universal religion that transcended sectarianism.  Of the Bhagavad Gita, Gandhi said,

 

“When doubts haunt me, when disappointments stare me in the face, and I see not one ray of hope on the horizon, I turn to the Bhagavad Gita and find a verse to comfort me; and I immediately begin to smile in the midst of overwhelming sorrow.  Those who meditate on the Gita, will derive fresh joy and new meanings from it every day.

 

            In the 20th century, Hindu philosophy in general and the Bhagavad Gita in particular have held strong influence on the avante-quarde tradition of artists, writers and musicians.  References are found in the bohemian or beatnik counter-culture from poets like Alan Ginsberg or author Jack Kerouac, whose autobiographical novel was titled The Dharma Bums.  The influence continued through the avante-guarde counter-culture of the 1960s.  The robed and chanting Hare Krishna dancers were common sites in the airports, and the Beatles, especially George Harrison and John Lennon, made pilgrimages to India and became devout followers of Hindu transcendental meditation. 

 

            These few citations should help to illustrate my curiosity about the Bhagavad Gita.  What does it possess that has the power to inspire poets and philosophers and physicists, even if their cultural roots are in Western society?  What is the wisdom of this scripture? 

 

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THE SERMON

 

            One of the most vivid literary images in American culture is that of Henry David Thoreau retreating to a cabin in the woods on the shore of Walden Pond, escaping from society, living like a hermit but communing with the glory of nature.  Nothing can be more representative of the flowering of American literary culture in this young new nation than the tableau we visualize of Thoreau alone in woods by Walden Pond. 

What a shock to discover that this picture is shaped to an extraordinary degree by ancient Hindu writings, that Thoreau in fact began each day at Walden by reading the Bhagavad Gita, and could summarize his experience there by writing that

 

“the pure Walden water is mingled with the sacred water of the Ganges.”

 

            We are further surprised to consider that this strange oriental text has had its influence on many other leading names of the modern Western world, from poets to scientists.  I offered examples of that influence in the readings earlier.  In a sense, my task this morning to try and understand how the “pure waters” of Walden Pond became mingled somehow with the “sacred waters” of the Ganges River in India.  I approach this task by attempting to explore the wisdom of the Bhagavad Gita, the most popular of the Hindu scriptures. 

            The power of the Bhagavad Gita can only be understood within the broader context of the Hindu tradition.  The Gita does, in fact, cover almost all aspects of this ancient religious tradition, so understanding Hinduism goes a long way toward appreciating the wisdom of the Gita.  The Gita is perhaps the most popular expression of the complex Hindu tradition, which is probably the oldest continuing religious tradition on earth, extending back to over 3,000 years B.C.E. 

         To begin with, there was no "foun­der," of Hinduism, no individual who is seen as the "proph­et" of Hinduism, no one parallel to Buddha or Jesus or Mohammed.  Hinduism devel­oped out of a tradi­tion of folktales that had com­mon metaphys­ical views.  In its practice, Hinduism represents more a federation of loosely-knit traditions.  There are many different sects within Hindu culture, at least as diverse as can be found in Christianity.  Within Christianity, for example, can be found a diversity of sects ranging from the secretive and isolationist group called Mormons to the hierarchy and pageantry of the Roman Catholic Church to the impassioned frenzy of the Tennessee snake handlers and faith healers.  Hindu religion is just as diverse. 

Thousands of years ago, what would become lasting Hindu ideas were written down in what seems an astounding amount of scriptural texts, the oldest being the Vedas, the most authorita­tive being the Upanishads, and the most popular being the Mahabharata, in which is contained the Bhagavad Gita. 

         The Mahabharata is an exceedingly long epic poem, in content not unlike Homer’s Iliad or Odyssey, though it exceeds the combined length of Homer’s works by eight times.  Like the ancient Greek Epics, the Mahabharata is based on a tale that has roots in history, though the story is elaborated with extensive legends involving gods and mythical figures.  The Mahabharata is the story of an ancient war between rival factions of a ruling family.  Inserted into the middle of the tale – probably added many years after the original writings – is a stand-alone poem that came to be called the Bhagavad Gita, translated as “The Song of the Blessed One,” or “The Song of the Lord.” 

         The battle in the story is between a good faction of the ruling family and an evil faction.  The leader of the good faction is named Arjuna.  The driver of his chariot is a servant named Krishna.  As the battle is about to begin, Arjuna confides to Krishna, his charioteer, that he doesn’t want to do battle, that too many of his family on both sides will be slaughtered.  At the moment of that confession, time stops.  Here begins the Bhagavad Gita, a conversation between Arjuna and his servant Krishna, during which, for the next seventeen chapters, the entire Hindu philosophy is articulated by Krishna, who is eventually revealed in fact to be the Supreme God, Brahman. 

         To understand the Gita is to understand the Hindu tradition, so I will try to summarize it as best I can.  Hinduism begins with a psychological understanding of the human condition.  Krishna explains to Arjuna that the basic element of human misery is that fact that we desire things.  We desire infinite existence -- immortality, never having to die, but we can’t have it.  We desire infinite knowledge, to know everything about the universe – how it works and what its purpose is – but we cannot achieve that knowledge.  We want infinite joy – happiness uninterrupted by pain and suffering – but life always comes with pain.  What we want, we can’t have, and we suffer from our desires. 

         The problem is not that what we desire cannot be achieved.  The problem is the simple fact that our desires control us.  The path to spiritual fulfillment, then, is to let go of our desires, to become unattached from our needs.  Once we are released from our desires, we can begin the road to happiness. 

         The road to spiritual fulfillment is through transcending mortal experience and human desires.  In this we can understand Thoreau’s motto of simplifying life, and his motive to live alone in a simple cabin in the woods with no modern conveniences.  We can also understand Ghandi’s asceticism, when he gave away everything he owned except for a robe and a rice bowl.  Spiritual fulfillment is not achieved by satisfying our desires; it is achieved by letting go them.  How freeing it must be, how liberated one must feel, not to need anything in this world in order to be happy. 

         But in fact, what we think we want – infinite existence, infinite knowledge, infinite joy – does exist and is available to us, but ironically it is there only if we are able to let go of our desire for it. 

         Perhaps the greatest misperception of Hinduism is the idea that it is polytheistic – that it worships many different gods.  On the contrary, it is devotedly monotheistic.  God is one.  Sometimes called Brahman, sometimes called Vishnu, there is only one ultimate divine source.  But it is impossible for us humans to have a full and accurate understanding of that God. 

         We can only have partial and imperfect glimpses.  At one point in the Gita, Krishna, who initially was Arjuna’s chariot driver, not only announces that he is Brahman, but for a moment allows himself to appear to Arjuna in his true light as the Supreme God.  Arjuna is stunned and unable to face the appearance of God directly in all its magnificence, and is forced to look away.  Krishna returns to his earthly form, one that Arjuna can relate to.  Arjuna is not ready yet to comprehend the full glory of Brahman. 

         Our minds are too primitive to perceive the glory of that God, so God chooses to be revealed in small doses.  God will appear to some as Krishna, to others as Shiva, and still others as Rama, as well as quite a few other forms.   Hindu monotheism does have a polytheistic sub-category (that is, it has many gods and goddess), and it also has a pantheistic subcategory (that is, God doesn’t’ exist separate from nature, but in fact fills nature and is nature).  How can all this be?  It works this way, as I understand it. 

Brahman is the supreme God of Hindu­ism, so in that sense, Hindu­ism is monotheistic.  There is only the one overall God, but that God is not a person or a person­ality.  Brahman is not just creator of all.  Brahman is creation itself.  There is no distinction between the creator and creation.  Brahman became the world itself, which also means Brahman became you and me, too.  Its spirit fills all that exists.  In this sense, Hinduism is pantheistic, the prefix "pan" meaning "every­thing" and "every­where."  So Brahman is every­where. 

         Most people understand Hinduism as polytheistic, and in fact there is some truth in that.  Since Brahman is so elusive to us mortals, his nature is expressed through lesser gods and goddess – in fact, there are hundreds of millions of such lesser gods.  How can a religion be monotheistic, pantheistic and polytheistic all that the same time?  To answer that brings us to the heart of Hindu philosophy and practice, and particularly its view of the hu­man condition. 

         That infinite being, infinite knowledge, and infinite joy that we seek, these are Brahman.  And yet I also say that we are Brahman.  So why don't we have the infinite being, knowledge and joy that we seek?  The answer is quite simple.  We don't know that we are Brahman.  That is the human condi­tion:  we are ignorant of our own divinity.  Our desires, our attachment to things outside of us, things that we want, hold us back from knowing our own divinity, that we are Brahman. 

When I say that we don't know that we are Brahman, I'm not talking about intellectual know­ledge; rather I'm speaking of experiential know­ledge.  There is a vital, important dis­tinc­tion.  For example, on an intellectual level, I know what it means to be a Roman Catholic.  I've learned a great deal about Catholic theology, in some ways more than a lot of practicing Catholics.  I've observed Catholic Mass and ritual in several different countries of the world.  I have learned most of the basic rules and heard many of the cate­chisms.  And yet on the most fundamental level of all, I will never really know what it means to be a Roman Catholic unless I actu­ally become one.  Only then would I genuinely have experiential know­ledge (as distinct from intellectual knowledge) of being Catholic. 

According to the Hindus, it is this kind of ignorance -- experiential ignorance -- that afflicts us.  We do not know (experientially) that we are Brahman.  We do not know that animals and plants and rivers and mountains are Brahman.  Instead, we are fooled into thinking that they are animals and plants and rivers and mountains.  And we are fooled into thinking that we are something other than Brahman.  As long as we believe that there is anything other than Brah­man, we are ignorant. 

         Again, it is helpful to flash back to Thoreau’s experience at Walden Pond.  It would not be an exaggeration to say that during his retreat into the woods, he attempted to treat the nature surrounding him as if it were holy.  It would not be an exaggeration to say that he found God in nature itself.  This, in fact, is a vital characteristic of all transcendentalist writing.  The animals, the plants, the rivers, the mountains – they are all Brahman.  That is where we find the footprints of God.  For Thoreau, the pure Walden water became mingled with the sacred water of the Ganges. 

         But returning to the Hindu system, it is fair to say that all of the diverse forms of Hinduism share a single goal:  to be liberated from our ignorance of Brahman, and to come to know in a pro­found sense that we are Brahman, and that everything is Brahman.  The paths to this liberating know­ledge are many, but all paths lead to the goal of libera­ting us from the ignorance of our own divinity.  To discover, to experience, that we are Brah­man is Enlightenment.  It is Nirvana.  This discovery of Brahman does not come through study of the world; it comes through exper­ience of the world.  It is an intuitional know­ledge rather than an analytical knowledge.

Fortunately, we are given an infinite number of chances for discovering that we are Brahman.  These opportunities are offered through the process of reincarnation.  Next week I’ll speak more directly about reincarnation, but with regard to Hinduism it is important to note that reincarnation provides a path whereby we can make progress, over a long series of lifetimes, toward discovering ourselves as Brahman.  The end of this process leads to Enlightenment, and the reward for achieving Enlightenment, for discovering Brahman, is to break out of the cycle of reincarnation and unite for eternity with Brahman itself. 

        

I mentioned earlier that there are many paths one can follow to reach this liberating knowledge.  The metaphor of "paths" is cru­cial in Hindu­ism.  There is no Hindu word which corresponds to the English word "reli­gion;" the closest word is "paths" or “yogas.”    There are probably many thousands of different paths to liberating knowledge, but usually they are grouped into four separate types, and the path you choose depends on the kind of personality you have.  In the West we might call these "person­ality types," and in fact Carl Jung, another admirer of the Bhagavad Gita, built his famous personality typo­logy as adaptations of the Hindu typology. 

 

The four paths are sometimes known as "yogas."  In the Gita, Krishna spends a substantial amount of his monologue explaining the four different yogas or paths.  The word "yoga" is related to the Eng­lish word "Yoke," and it means "to be joined with."  These four paths identify four different ways to become joined with Brah­man, and they correspond to four different personality "types."

One path is jnana yoga, the "path of knowledge."  This path is used by those whose personality is primarily intellectual.  This is the path used by scholars, scientists, and analytical types -- philosophers, if you will -- but one must remember that the focus is not factual know­ledge per se, but intellec­tual discipline. 

Another path to liberation is karma yoga which is the "path of work."  This is a path for personalities of an active type, who express their devotion in the form of vocation, good deeds, and social respon­sibility.  Perhaps we might call this the "A" type personality.

Another path, known as raja yoga, is largely a form of psycho­logical exercise, and is used by those who are essentially introspec­tive.  This path demands very difficult meditation disciplines and trains one to focus inward and to understand the nature of the true self.  

         A final path is known as bhakti yoga, and is called the "path of love."  Bhakti yoga is intended to be used by those with personalities which are primarily emotional or ruled by feel­ings.  The love expres­sed in bhakti yoga can have many different forms, such as service to others, but the ultimate love is love of God.  This is the path expressed most devoutly in the Bhagavad Gita. 

These different paths are not mutually exclusive, and most people are expected to use them all in varying degrees, though it is under­stood that each person concentrates most attention on one rather than on all.

 

I must confess that I am quite attracted to the implications behind the Hindu recog­nition that people are very different from one another, and require different methods for seeking truth.  This is both psychologically and religiously sound.

The principle of religious pluralism and diversity is supported by the very foundation of the Hinduism itself.  The Vedas say, "Truth is One, they call him by different names."  More than most religions, Hinduism recog­nizes and allows for this diversity of religious sensitivities.  This fact has made Hinduism one of the world's more tolerant religions -- at least in theory.  While there are some fundamentalist sects within Hinduism, in general it is a religion that recognizes and honors other religions as accep­table paths to liber­ation, each one appropriate to its own country and culture.  

A nineteenth century Hindu scholar, Rama­krishna, wrote the follow­ing on this topic of religious tolerance:

 

"God has made different religions to suit different aspirants, times, and countries.  All doctrines are only so many paths; but a path is by no means God Himself.  Indeed, one can reach God if one fol­lows any of the paths with whole-heart­ed devotion.  One may eat a cake with icing either straight or sidewise.  It will taste sweet either way.

As one and the same material, water, is called by different names by different peoples, one calling it water, another eau, a third aqua, and another pani, so the one Everlasting-Intelligent-Bliss is invoked by some as God, by some as Allah, by some as Jehovah, and by others as Brahman....

People should follow their own reli­gion.  A Christian should follow Christian­ity, a Mohammedan should follow Islam, and so on.  For the Hindus, the ancient path, the path of the Aryan sages, is the best."

 

         In fact Hindus, as well as Buddhists for that matter, have a difficult time understanding the Western notion, found in Christianity and Islam, that there is only one “true” religion.  A fundamental tenet of Hinduism is the recognition of different paths to enlightenment, and lends itself toward a profound religious toleration. 

         The idea of respecting “many paths” in religion is a key to understanding the reason behind the curious and remarkable existence of many millions of minor gods and goddesses in Hinduism.  A superficial observation thinks of this as a quaint expression of primitive religion.  But there is a deeper explanation. 

As I understand it, it works like this.  As I said before, Hinduism is monotheistic – there is one God, Brahman, though called by different names.  Furthermore, it is the human condition that we do not know Brahman.  Try as we might, we cannot fully understand the cosmic harmony in all its fullness without a great deal of disci­pline, and the accumulated work of many thousands, maybe millions, of lifetimes.

In the meantime, we must be content to focus our attention on those minor gods and goddesses that we can know.  These minor gods are expressions of Brahman that are accessible to us.  There are gods who represent the various forms of the wea­ther, gods who represent different emotions, gods of the land, of the air, of the night, gods of every con­ceivable aspect of existence.  These are mythical gods; only Brah­man is real.  But since we cannot approach the reality of Brahman, we turn these myths, these partial manifesta­tions of Brahman, into objects of worship and adoration.  It is the best we can do.   

         The notion of many lesser gods is not too far off from the idea of Christian saints.  There are patron saints of the widow, patron saints of the poor, patron saints of the sailors, patron saints of the farmer, and so forth.  In some parts of Christianity, these saints are worshiped much like the Hindu lesser gods – because they are more accessible than the supreme God.  

In Hinduism, these lesser gods are worshipped because of our human limitations.  As long as we are imperfect, we cannot worship Brahman, which is perfect, so we must content ourselves to worship imperfect gods and goddesses.  One Hindu prayer goes like this:

 

Oh Lord, forgive three sins that are due to my human limitations:

Thou art everywhere, but I worship you here;

Thou art without form, but I worship you in this form;

Thou needest no praise, yet I offer you these prayers and salutations.

Oh Lord, forgive three sins that are due to my human limitations.

 

There is a certain humility to the worship of these many minor gods and goddesses.  But there is also an interesting flexibility.  Each person, depending upon what path they have chosen, can in fact choose the gods they wish to worship.  There is something impressively honest about that system, it seems to me.  We all do this anyway, don't we?  Few of us admit it, but some of us worship our jobs, some of us worship our families, many of us worship wealth, others worship self-discipline.  Some worship their own bodies, and some worship other peoples' bodies.  Some wor­ship know­ledge and others worship experience.  There are sun-worshippers, sea-worshippers, golf worshippers.  We are all continually choosing our own gods.  The Hindus, at least, have the advantage of realizing that is what we are doing, and go so far as to depict those gods in icon form.  

 

         Yet the essential monotheism of Hindu thought cannot be denied.  The uniqueness of the Hindu Supreme God, Brahman, is that Brahman exists in all objects of creation, including ourselves.  Such a concept is consistent with the writing of New England transcendentalists of 150 years ago.  Nearly all those transcendentalists were Unitarian, and their influence survives with us today.  (That is one reason Earth Day, which comes next month, is an important celebration for us.)  Based on what I have presented from Hinduism in general and the Gita in particular, it is easy to see the larger context of the thought of, say, Emerson.  Listen to these famous words from Emerson, describing what he liked to call “The Oversoul,” but shed on these words the light of the Gita and the idea of Brahman as a Supreme Divinity that exists in all creation: 

 

“The highest dwells within us, the sources of nature are in our own minds. . . .  There is a deep power in which we exist and whose beatitude is accessible to us. . .  Within us is the soul of the whole, the wise silence, the universal beauty, to which every part and particle is equally related, the eternal One.” 

 

         I don’t want to close, though, without returning to emphasize what is, by all accounts, the central teaching of both the Bhagavad Gita and Hinduism.  Fulfillment in this life is achieved through detaching ourselves from desire and reward.  The phrase that the Gita uses frequently is to be able to “let go of the fruits of our actions.”  When we come to recognize that we are, in fact, Brahman, then we no longer experience the pain of not having what we want, because we transcend desire itself.  Says the Gita:

 

“When a person gives up all desires

that emerge from the mind, and rests

contented in the Self by the Self,

that is a person of firm wisdom.” 

 

         In my search for the wisdom of the Bhagavad Gita, I think I have found what I was seeking.  Our Western tradition of philosophy and religion is grounded in a sense of dualism.  For us in the West, God is “out there” somewhere, and we must seek him out.  Existence is divided between the sacred and the secular, the holy and the profane.  The Bhagavad Gita has provided an important antidote, and new paradigm, for our worldview.  All is Brahman.  If we seek the holy, look for it within ourselves and within nature itself.  Don’t look for it separate form the world.  It was an insight that inspired the transcendentalists of the 19th century, and continues to inspire poets, philosophers, and physicists in our own world. 

 

         I ask you to return to where we began, to that familiar literary image in American culture of Thoreau retreating to a cabin in the woods on the shore of Walden Pond, escaping from society, and living as a hermit but communing with the glory of nature.  At two points this morning, I offered different quotes from his essay on Walden Pond.  I would like to close this morning’s reflection on the Bhagavad Gita by connecting those two quotes with the complete context. 

 

 “In the morning I bathe my intellect in the stupendous and cosmogonal philosophy of the Bhagavad Gita, since whose composition, years of the gods have elapsed and in comparison with which our modern world and its literature seems puny and trivial. . .  I lay down the book and go to my well for water, and lo! there I meet the servant of the Brahmin, priest of Brahma, and Vishnu and Indra, who still sits in his temple on the Ganges reading the Vedas, or dwells at the root of a tree with his crust and water-jug.  I meet his servant come to draw water for his master, and our buckets as it were grate together in the same well.  The pure Walden water is mingled with the sacred water of the Ganges.”