from Sat Sandesh Sept/Oct 2004

Humility of the Saints
The following is an excerpt from a talk that was given by Sant Darshan Singh Ji Maharaj (1921-1989) on Tulsi Sahib.

If we examine life, we will find that each one of us is plagued by some sorrow, some problem or the other. And if we examine these to their very depths, we will trace them to one factor: our ego. If we give someone a piece of advice and it goes unheeded, we are in pain. We moan to ourselves, "I love him so dearly, and yet he has disregarded what I have to say." Or else we say, "How dare he not listen to me? I will teach him next time." No matter what the hierarchy, we consider that it is we ourselves who are always at the top. In fact, the idea of hierarchy itself is a product of our own distorted ego. As Sant Kirpal Singh Ji used to say, "We are all born the same way with two eyes, two ears, two feet, and two hands. Then why is there this difference between people? God created us equal, but we have created divisions." As Kabir Sahib has said: "From one Light the whole world sprang into creation; we are all His children and no one is better or worse." Self-centeredness, then, is at the bottom of all our ills. It is this which ultimately separates us and divides us from our Creator. In Urdu the word "Khuda" stands for "God" and "juda" stands for "separateness from God." In the Arabic script the two words are spelled almost identically; only the positioning of the dot varies. In "Khuda" the dot comes above; in "juda," below. Playing on this, the Sufis declare that in moving the dot from above the letter to below the letter, we slide down, from being centered in God, to being self-centered. It is hardly surprising that in all the religious traditions the saints have laid so much stress on the need to overcome the ego—to escape the ego.

Why is it that we are self-centered? If we stop to ask ourselves this question, we will find that it is because we are lacking in love. Love works on the principles of unity and identity. But if we look around ourselves, we find that our lives are based on separation, on division. This is because we are caught in the meshes of the ego. Our whole life has become a play with different masks. We respond to those who are around us not as our equals, but in terms of the position they occupy in the hierarchy which we have created. If we are physically strong, we look down on those who are physically feeble. If we are rich, we look down on those who are poor. If we are well-placed in life and in a position of authority, we look down on those who are our subordinates. As if this were not enough, even if we are lacking in these qualities, we are happy to pride ourselves on the strength, on the wealth, and on the position of our friends and relations. We are always playing our little ego games with our fellow beings. When we confront those whom we consider our inferiors, we are overbearing, patronizing, snobbish, and even rude and cruel. But just watch when a superior comes our way. We are totally transformed and begin to fawn, to flatter, and to cringe.
We are also subject to the pride of knowledge. Philosophers pride themselves on having gone into the depths of everything. They think they are in possession of all the secrets of the universe, and as a result they believe they are superior to others. But just stop them and tell them that you want their help to untie one knot, to resolve one problem. Ask them about the nature of the Self, of the way back to God and see how puzzled, how lost, how defeated they look. Gone is their intellectual arrogance; gone is their self-conceit. The so-called wisdom which philosophers pursue does not help them when they are confronted by a personal crisis. Then, all their reasoning, all their sophistication can give them no peace, no stay. The truth is, that the wisdom they have sought is a pseudo-wisdom. It is the wisdom of reasoning, not of direct inner experience. The problem of problems with our lives is that we are full of ego. It is not simply that we are egoists: in fact, we are also egotists. We are so full of ourselves that we cannot think of anything else, not even of God. It is now this ambition that we pursue, now that. If any desire remains unfulfilled, we are in pain and misery. No wonder Guru Nanak declared, "The whole world is unhappy." It is unhappy because it continues in a state of separation, of division from its Creator. If we could be one with God, if we could share in God's love, we would be in a state of happiness that knows no end. We would enjoy a state of bliss that is beyond description. "He alone is happy who is centered in Naam." How can we become centered in Naam or in the Word of God? There is only one way: to seek the help, the living impulse of one who is already centered in god. In other words, what we need is a spiritual Adept.

Such is the web of delusion, of maya, that instead of seeking that which can fulfill all our needs and desires, instead of seeking to possess that by which all else can be possessed, we spend our lives pursuing the dictates of our little egos. If we only stopped to look around us we would find that those things we now seek are impermanent. Physical strength departs even as youth moves into middle age, and middle age moves into old age. As for wealth and position, every day we can see how vulnerable they are. The person who is rich and powerful today may tumble down the wheel of fortune tomorrow. When India was divided, how suddenly and unceremoniously those who had prided themselves on their wealth and possessions were reduced to poverty and privation.

In India, most tend to attribute their state of unhappiness and misery to poverty. They think: "If we could only have two good meals a day; if we only had a comfortably furnished house, a roof over our heads; if we only had enough money to educate our children and to clothe ourselves well.... If we only had these things, our problems would be at an end and we would be happy."

Some time ago I visited Canada and the United States, and I found that all that is pined for in India, the people already have in these great countries. Such is the wealth, the general state of affluence, that almost every member of a family can afford to have a car. Some people even have private helicopters and aircraft. They have all the material comforts, and all that is needed to make life easy and luxurious. And yet, did I find them happy? They had all the things with which people in India would furnish the heaven of their imagination. But they were as unhappy as those in India—if anything, more unhappy in a sense. I found large numbers were caught up in a state of stress and tension almost near to distraction and insanity.

Why are the affluent, who possess all the comforts which the poor envy, not happy? The answer to this question has been repeatedly given to us by the great prophets and sages. In our own times, the two great Masters, Hazur Baba Sawan Singh Ji and Sant Kirpal Singh Ji, explained to us in a scientific manner why this is so. They brought home to us that we are essentially spirit, and spirit is eternal and immortal. It cannot gain happiness from things which are physical, which are intellectual. The soul can know true happiness only by sharing in its own condition, by rising to a higher state of consciousness. This state of consciousness is a gift which we can get from a saint.

Tulsi Sahib reminds us that if we are looking for a happiness that knows no end, we must seek someone who has become one with the Lord. Different people go to a saint for different reasons. Some, sheeplike, go to him for no better reason than because they see others doing so. Some go out of curiosity to discover what is attracting people in such large numbers. Still others combine such curiosity with spiritual longing. At first, they accept the saint as no more than a good human being. As they associate with him, they begin to recognize that he is different from other people. Becoming more receptive, they perceive, stage by stage, his full spiritual stature.

Tulsi Sahib next goes on to draw our attention to the way we treat others. If we are dealing with those whom we consider beneath our station, we have one stance towards them; if we are dealing with those who are superior to us, our stance is quite different. Even amongst the so-called holy ones this is true. It has been my privilege to meet many a holy person in the course of my life. In most cases we will find that they expect us to bow before them, to make them some offering or the other. They want to be reassured that we recognize their superiority. That indeed is the way of ego, the way of the world, and most people—even the most holy—are not above it. But Tulsi Sahib is offering us a totally different standard. A Sadh, or a realized one, is one who does not want others to bow before him. He himself bows to those who come to him.

Once when I was giving a satsang on one of Tulsi Sahib's poems, the text included the statement: "He who bows before his disciple is alone a true saint." Many of those who were present, after the satsang was over, came and met me and wondered if I had not read the text incorrectly, or alternatively, wondered if I had not misinterpreted Tulsi Sahib's meaning. It is the disciple who must bow to the Master, they told me, and not the other way about. How could Tulsi Sahib ever have disregarded this time-honored tradition and suggested the very opposite? And even if his verses suggested such a reading, how could I endorse such a radical view of the relationship of the disciple and the Guru?

The spiritual path has its own inexorable laws and its own inner consistency. And when Tulsi Sahib said that a true saint is one who bows to his disciple, he was entirely in line with those inner laws. It is true, the disciple bows before the teacher and salutes him. The disciple does so for many reasons. He or she receives in the presence of the Guru a certain ecstasy, a peace of spirit which the disciple receives from nothing else in this world. One may also come to be aware that the Master is overseeing one's life and protecting one at every turn. All this confirms one's faith that the Master is different from ordinary human beings. It is natural, in another situation, to have a sense of special respect, even of reverence and awe. But the disciple, even though he or she bows before the Master, never really comprehends the Master's true identity and cannot know what it really means to be one with God. A Master, as the saying goes, can be understood only by another Master.

By definition, a Sadh in Indian mysticism is one who has transcended the three worlds: physical, astral, and causal. A Sadh has transcended the realms of division and duality and recognizes the unitary nature of all existence. For a Sadh, therefore, there is none who is high or who is low. Sadhs see that whoever comes to them is of the same essence as God, and the Sadhs are happy to bow before him. It is not that they consider themselves inferior, or in any way lower in station. Our great Masters have explained to us the secret of such humility: realized souls perceive even in the most evil, the most wicked, the Light of God that has created everything. It is that Light which they salute, that divinity before which they bow when they meet you. Indeed they will be reluctant to let you touch their feet, to prostrate yourself before them. They would, instead, bow to you themselves. This is a revolutionary point Tulsi Sahib is making in this verse—it is the Master who bows to the disciple first, not the other way around.
He does this in earnestness, knowingly and with full realization. A saint does not just intellectually recognize the unity of all life. He perceives this directly. He sees the Light of God in every object, every living creature, and in every individual about him. It is the divinity which he beholds in his own disciples, and it is to this divinity that he bows.
If you use Tulsi Sahib's yardstick, his measure for gauging people of realization, how few would pass the test! Almost all the holy people we meet surely would be unable to qualify. People of realization, who have reached the highest levels of spiritual attainment, possess a kind of humility which is not of this world. Sant Kirpal Singh Ji used to say that however few they may be in number, the saints and Masters possess ninety-nine percent of whatever humility is found in this world. The rest of us are caught up in the game of ego. If we put on the garb of piety, of goodness, of humility we do so to impress others. These virtues are not innate in us. But the humility of a saint is totally different. If a disciple goes to thank him for his divine intervention, the Master attributes it promptly to the grace of his own Master. He may vicariously take our problems, our ailments, on himself, but he will never show it. If we come to recognize his intervention, he will not acknowledge the priceless gift he has given us. He will always speak of himself as a mere clod of earth, a dry channel, which passes on to the recipient only what his own Master has to give. Whatever there be of virtue, of goodness, of sacrifice, he will lay it at the feet of his own Master; whatever seems to be a limitation, he will claim for himself. If we were to count by Tulsi Sahib's standards the people of realization from amongst the so-called saints and sages, they would be so few, so utterly few. But the lesson of humility of which Tulsi Sahib speaks is relevant not only for the saints, but for us as well.

Humility is a first principle on the spiritual path. Unless we learn humility, we cannot make any progress. Unless we salute in all humility the divinity which is in all, the divinity that is within all living creatures, we will not be able to take the first step on the spiritual path. If we can learn to be truly humble, if we can master Tulsi Sahib's lesson of humility, then we will be well on the path to salvation, on the path to at-onement with the Creator. Indeed, then, the kingdom of God which is said to be in the high heavens will come down on earth.