Sri Ramakrishna Math : The Vedanta Kesari, Editorial: The Voice of God

Suppose a near and dear one staying at a distant place calls us up. How pleasing and joyful would it be for us to hear his or her voice! Exchange of emotions, ideas, news etc. will ensue. Now, suppose he or she at the other end stops speaking. What will be our reaction at this end? We will eagerly ask, 'Hey, what's the matter? Why don't you speak?'

Speech is one of the most potent means of communication. Exchange of ideas through voice very commonly takes place among the created beings who are endowed with the power of speech. But is it possible to communicate with the Creator through sound? Can the silent become eloquent and the soundless speak? The scriptures say, yes, He can speak, because He is also the Shabda-Brahman, the cosmic sound; all sounds originate from Him only. According to the scriptures when creation was over the Progenitor voiced His instructions to His progeny. The Gita records such a significant command in the following verse:

Sahayajnah prajah srishtva
purovacha prajapatih
Anena prasavishyadhvam
esha vostvishtakamadhuk.

In the beginning Prajapati, having created men together with Yajna (or Vedic sacrifice--selfless work dedicated to God) as their duty, declared: 'By this shall you multiply. May this be to you the cow of plenty yielding all your wants.'

In the succeeding verses the Gita gives for the created beings a long list of the do's and dont's for mutual living.

Now the question is: Is He satisfied with what His progeny have been doing on the earth or has He any admonishment to utter? Does He speak either to take us to task for our unsatisfactory performances or to appreciate our accomplishments? Records from the lives of great saints and sages show that God does continue to guide or admonish His progeny.

Swami Vivekananda, during his second visit to the West, took Swami Turiyananda with him and wanted to engage him in work. Turiyananda was a monk of contemplative nature and hesitated to plunge into work. Swami Vivekananda said to him, 'It is the will of the Mother that you should take charge of the work there.' At this the brother-disciple said jocosely, 'Rather say it is your will. Certainly you have not heard the Mother communicate Her will to you in that way. How can we hear the words of the Mother?' 'Yes, brother,' said Swamiji with great emotion, 'Yes, the words of the Mother can be heard as clearly as we hear one another...'

What will happen to a devotee if he or she by a rare good fortune were to hear the voice of the Lord? Words fail to describe the feelings of such a fortunate one. He might lose his power of speech and might become dumb with wonder; or he might start talking and behaving in an irrelevant manner. And many more queer things might happen to such a devotee. Blessed are they who hear such a Divine Voice and lose themselves.

Religious books throughout the world never tire of recording instances of devotees hearing the voice of the Lord. They are legion. Let us see how God's voice is heard by the devotees.

The sound which is generally audible to mortal hearing is the sound caused by friction. But anahata dhvani, the unstruck sound--as the etymological meaning suggests--is produced without any cause. The crude natural means of hearing fail to catch the anahata dhvani. Mystics, yogis and sages develop a subtle power to receive it. It is transcendental. It is likened to the unmodulated sound of 'Om' flowing uninterruptedly, eternally. It is like silent music, a music that does not lack in perfect cadences, but is not detected by the mortal auditory organ. It is recorded in Sri Ramakrishna the Great Master:

At that time the Master [Sri Ramakrishna] heard, arising naturally and unceasingly everywhere in the universe, the anahata dhvani, the great pranava sound, which is the aggregate of all different sounds of the universe. Some of us heard from the Master himself that he could at that time understand the meaning of the cries of all animals.

The second way in which one can hear a divine command is through the mouth of another human being. At Dakshineswar, Sri Ramakrishna's mind would always tend to soar high beyond the usual level of spiritual experiences. He would have many spiritual experiences, visions, etc. Haladhari, who was well-versed in scriptures and whom Sri Ramakrishna regarded as a knowledgeable person, would often express doubt about the genuineness of these experiences and visions. Greatly perturbed at this Sri Ramakrishna once importuned Mother Kali to solve the problem. In response, one day the Mother, in the guise of a bearded person of golden complexion, appeared before him and said, 'My child, remain in Bhavamukha'. Bhavamukha state is the state between the unqualified plane of experience and the qualified plane (saguna bhava). The same instruction came to him again from the Mother through the mouth of a woman called Rati's Ma.

But more often in the life of saints we find that they listen to the Divine command without the agency of human speech. This is called ashariri vani or voice without a form. When Tota Puri left Dakshineswar after imparting to Sri Ramakrishna the Advaitic knowledge and the Master dwelt in the Nirvikalpa plane of consciousness continually for six months, he heard at the end of that period the incorporeal voice of the Divine Mother: 'Remain in Bhavamukha'. St. Francis of Assisi had heard such a voice telling him to build the church, and that completely transformed his life.

Swami Vivekananda had a similar mystic experience which is illuminating. One day at Kshir Bhavani he had been pondering over the ruination and desecration of the temple wrought by the Muslim invaders. Distressed at heart he thought: 'How could the people have permitted such sacrilege without offering strenuous resistance! If I were here then, I would never have allowed such things. I would have laid down my life to protect the Mother.' Then the Divine voice of the Mother was heard: 'What even if unbelievers should enter my temples, and defile my images? What is that to you? Do you protect me? Or do I protect you?'

A rather unusual way in which the Divine voice can be heard is through the objects of Nature. Prajapati had three kinds of offspring: gods, men and demons (asuras) and He wanted to advise them all. To gods (luminous ones) he said 'da' which means damayata, 'control yourselves'. To men he said 'da' which means datta, 'give'. And to demons he instructed dayadhvam, 'be compassionate'. The Brihadaranyaka Upanishad thus discloses that with the thundering sound of lightning the voice of the Lord can be heard as 'da' pronounced thrice--'da', 'da', 'da'.

Satyakama, a teenaged disciple of an Upanishadic Rishi, used to happily graze his herd of cows everyday at the behest of his guru. Like a free bird he would enjoy the company of not only his herd of cows, but also of birds and even inanimate elements like fire, air etc. One day, after the daily pastoral duty he returned to the ashrama at dusk. The Rishi was struck with wonder at the sight of the resplendent countenance of the young boy; it radiated the divine lustre becoming a Brahmajnani! Speechless, he beckoned the boy and tenderly asked, 'O dear one, you shine verily like a knower of Brahman. Who may it be that instructed you?' It transpired that he was taught by a bull, a swan, a diver-bird, and the fire. The guileless boy heard the voices, no matter where they came from. Satyakama's experience is unique in the religious history of the world. It proves that the Lord whispers as the wind; murmurs through the leaves; and shouts as the thunder. Through the firmament He teaches universality, through the blowing air the message of ceaseless work, through the mountain the co-existence of muteness and greatness and through the flowing river the need to move on, charaiveti.

God also speaks through holy books. St. Teresa of Avila has said, 'We speak to God through prayer. God speaks to us through the scriptures.' Religious literature is the transcribed form of God's injunctions to His creation. 'God inspired all books.' They are mute words. They are enlivened by those believers who would translate them in their lives. That is why the scriptures themselves enjoin that the reading of holy books is as good as enjoying holy company. A discerning reader will one day hear what God has to speak to him through the scriptures.

A man dreams that he has become a monkey. He is in a troop of monkeys. They are in a forest jumping about from one tree to another; eating fruits; breaking branches; busy with all sorts of pranks. Now, our dreaming monkey feels very thirsty. He finds no water to quench his thirst. He has become so restless for water that he moans while asleep. Somebody, hearing the moaning sound, calls out to him by his name, which breaks his dream. He awakes to see that it was but a dream. He was aroused to human existence by a word, a shabda. Such is the potency and role of scriptures, which are called shabda pramana, verbal authority, for a spiritual aspirant. They awake us to our real nature.

Finally there are messages of the Lord spread all around us. We may 'hear' the Divine voice at the sight of a sick man, an old person or a corpse as did the Buddha. Or we may listen to the 'call' in a casual utterance of somebody, as did Lala Babu. Lala Babu, a Zamindar, heard a washerman's daughter calling out to her father, 'Father, its getting late; when will you set fire to basna?' Basna is the dried stem of the banana plant. It also means 'desire'. Lala Babu became desireless. Nanak, while measuring the goods, was transfixed as he reached the count thirteen--tera (meaning 'yours')--which reminded him that he belonged to the Lord.

Well, what is the import of these accounts of the divine voice or command heard by a devotee or a spiritual aspirant? A devotee cannot rest content with the experiences of others. He cannot be satisfied until and unless he has them for his own. He wants to hear for himself the voice of God. Swamiji exhorts, 'Does what Moses did when he saw God save you? No man's seeing God can help you the least bit except that it may excite you and urge you to do the same thing. That is the whole value of the ancients' examples. Nothing more.' Let us then see why a Buddha, a Nanak, a Satyakama could get the message and we do not.

Satyakama was an extraordinary boy. He was not afraid of speaking the truth even though he knew it might harm him and defeat the very purpose for which he approached the guru. Pleased with his truthfulness, the teacher accepted him as a Brahmin notwithstanding his unknown descent. Moreover, he was a child of nature. 'Nature is nothing but God,' says Swami Vivekananda. There is no wonder then that God did not hesitate to speak to such a pure soul. As regards Buddha (then Siddhartha), he evinced the traits of a world teacher-in-the-making from his very childhood. He had a deeply compassionate heart which was exceptionally sensitive to super-human instincts and impulses. That was why his deep insight could pierce through the scales that obscure right perception and knowledge and could read the message which is imparted through very commonplace events. In the cases of Guru Nanak, Lala Babu and many others, their minds were ready like dry matchsticks which would ignite with just one strike. That is why Sri Ramakrishna says: The voice of God is heard by a pure mind.

For the highly qualified aspirants, the uttama adhikarins, hearing the voice of God is easier. Their hearts are pure and their minds receptive and sensitive. For the rest of us, there is no other way but to purify our minds by spiritual practice and patiently wait for the Divine call.

The Holy Mother says: '...go on repeating His name, everything will come out all right. You may repeat His name a million times even though the mind is unsteady. You will hear the anahata dhvani before the Kundalini awakes.' Peace Pilgrim says:

There is no glimpse of the light at the end of the tunnel without your walking the path. You can't get it from anyone else, nor can you give it to anyone. Just take whatever steps seem easiest for you, and as you take a few steps, it will be easier for you to take a few more.

The fact is that the Divine is constantly present with us as the indwelling paramatman. His voice--the still small voice within--is always present as the conscience. We have just to turn inwards, listen to it and follow it. Unfortunately, we go on disregarding it and covering it shamelessly with man-made artificial values, till the voice becomes so weak that it is heard no more. Let us therefore pause a little, sit silently and try to hear the divine call always arising within. As we follow it, it will become louder and clearer.

And then we must be ready to sacrifice all that we ostensibly possess as ours. When God speaks to us, we shall not be allowed to raise such foolish objections as, 'Leave me Sir, I have my parents at home,' etc.

Well, the competent spiritual aspirants will have direct communion with God, will have the anahata dhvani heard in their heart of hearts. But for the lesser lights the wise words of the scriptures are there and the open book of nature is available for guidance.

A man learns through experiences. He is wiser who learns from others' experiences. And where will he get a store of ready-made experiences except in the holy books? In the time of our need the scriptures and nature will deliver the required message. Let us keep the doors and windows open. Walls may stop us, but walls also may have doors. What is more, we can even remove the walls complete with doors and windows. We may say, 'Half a loaf is better than no bread.' All right, but we must dare to ask for the whole bread. When the whole nature is emitting liberally and joyously the Lord's message and singing His glory can we afford to remain indoors? Let us open wide our hearts for the Divine Voice from within as well as from without.