Occasionally, a small group of evangelists — well-dressed and well-groomed young men and women from a local church — walks around my neighborhood ringing doorbells to spread Christianity. I always like to invite them in, offer them chai and engage in a relaxed conversation. Even though I went to a Catholic school and know the proselytizing game well, I pretend I’m the naive immigrant eager to ask basic questions. After a few minutes of small talk, one of them usually breaks open the topic by asking, “Have you been saved?”

I try to look surprised, and respond by saying, “I was never condemned to begin with!” My young, charming guests usually get thrown off. They expect me to claim that I have already been saved, and their training has equipped them with the rhetorical skills to assert that their ability to save me is superior to my present faith. I usually find them taken by surprise by my posture that I do not need to be saved in the first place.

Christian salvation is a solution to the problem of Eternal Damnation caused by Original Sin. But that problem does not exist within the dharma traditions. Imagine someone asking you if you have been pardoned from your prison sentence, and you respond by saying that you were never condemned for any crime and, hence, such a question is absurd. The implication here is that for a dharmic person to say he has been saved would imply that he accepts Christianity’s fundamental tenet that every human is born a sinner and remains so until he surrenders himself to Jesus Christ. Even when the church acknowledges other faiths as having merit, no other path can substitute for Jesus when it comes to being saved.

The closest the dharmic traditions come to salvation are the concepts of moksha in Hinduism and nirvana in Buddhism, both of which can be loosely translated as “liberation.” But there are crucial differences between dharmic liberation and Christian salvation.

Receiving assurance of salvation is the key moment in the spiritual life of most Christians. It comes as a gift of grace and its source lies outside the individual. It does not come as a result strictly of merit, spiritual practice, prayer, or asceticism. Although these may be helpful in its attainment, and even necessary in many denominations, they are not sufficient in and of themselves. That’s because the potential to achieve salvation is not innate in us.

In Jewish and Christian traditions, death is the consequence of sin. The freedom of the soul in Christianity entails, in the End of Time, the freedom of the body as well: There will be a resurrection of the dead in a “glorified” physical form, and the boundary between heaven and earth will be erased or made permeable. For most people, the full realization of this salvation can come only after death.
Dharmic liberation, on the other hand, can be achieved here and now in this very body and in this very world. Moksha is similar to salvation insofar as it is concerned with freedom from human bondage; but the nature of this bondage is quite different. Moksha really refers to living in a state of freedom from ignorance, pre-conditioning and karmic “baggage.” According to the Bhagavad Gita, the state where one is desire-less, ego-less and beyond the drives of human nature is the first major milestone; it opens the door to further evolution and eventual liberation in the fullest sense.

Salvation, on the other hand, does not entail expanded awareness or consciousness, esoteric/mystical knowledge, or physical practices (though these may attend it). Nor is it necessarily derived from complete renunciation, as is the case in Buddhist nirvana. It can be experienced only by surrendering to the will of God, and God here is specifically the God of the Bible.

There is yet another state described in Sanskrit which has no equivalent in Christianity. One who has attained moksha may choose to remain in the world and continue to do spiritual work — that is, free from past actions (i.e., karmic bondage) and yet active in the world. This person is called jivanmukta. He (or she) can, at will, either turn away from the world or turn toward it and deal with it without being touched or limited by it. The Buddhist equivalent of a jivanmukta is a bodhisattva.

The New Testament calls this “being in the world, but not of it.” There is an opening here for a potential development of a Christian jivanmukta, and St. Paul says several things about himself that would indicate he had at least tasted this state, as had other Christian saints. But the important thing is that there is no word for it in biblical metaphysics; that’s because the state was not examined, understood, or cultivated through systematic techniques. The words “saint” and “prophet” do not suffice, nor even does “mystic.” When Christians experienced such a state, it was not as a result of following a yoga-like systematic process; neither was it seen as bringing salvation. Hence such a person would still be, according to the Vatican document Dominus Jesus, “in a gravely deficient situation in comparison with those who, in the Church, have the fullness of the means of salvation.”

As the evangelists leave my home, I always hope our conversation has challenged their assumptions about the people they are preaching to, and that perhaps they will re-examine the idea that all people outside of their church are in a state of spiritual deficiency. But until they do, I will continue to welcome them into my living room, offer them chai and share with them the good news that there is no such thing as Original Sin. We are all originally divine.

Published: April 29, 2011

Rajiv Malhotra

In computer science, the binary system with only two values (0 and 1) is sufficient to represent immense complexity—including pictures, videos, multimedia, and in fact, everything we can sense or conceptualize. Therefore, the expansion Two  Many is easy for us to understand: If two entities exist, we can understand how an infinite set of entities can be constructed out of them. ¬Such is the power of two.
However, suppose we start with one entity, then how do we get two entities out of it? In Vedanta terms, the issue is to understand how Advaita  Dvaita comes about. In other words, how does multiplicity arise if the fundamental reality is One, and what is their relationship with each other? This has been the central debate in Vedanta among its various schools, the main ones being organized as Advaita, VishishtAdvaita, and Dvaita.
The Veda-s say that reality consists of paramarthika-sat and vyavaharika-sat, the absolute and the relative realms, respectively. The key issue has been the relationship between them. If paramarthika is the absolute reality, then what is vyavaharika, how does it relate to paramarthika, and why does vyavaharika exist at all?

Confusion about Vyavaharika

There are popular interpretations of Advaita claiming that only paramarthika is real and vyavaharika is an illusion; they translate Adi Shankara’s word mithya to describe vyavaharika, as illusion, or falsehood. The proponents of this interpretation commonly say things like: The world is an illusion. Two-ness is an illusion in this view, because only paramarthika is real while vyavaharika is false. On the other hand, the VishishtAdvaita school maintains that the one absolute Brahman includes multiplicity; this is also called qualified nondualism. The Dvaita school holds that there are two realities with their own respective essences, but that one is absolute, and the other is dependent on it. Being dependent makes it relative but does not negate its existence. In other words, both are real, though one has higher status as independent of the other.
The smile on a face is real but cannot exist independently of the face. However, the face exists even without the smile. One cannot say the smile is an illusion just because it is temporary and dependent on the face for its existence. Another analogy used is of the blue lotus: Its blueness is a property of the lotus and depends on the lotus’ existence, while the lotus can exist without necessarily being blue.
This discussion on the nature of two-ness has been center-stage in Indian philosophical discourse for many centuries. My intention here is not to try to resolve this old debate. Rather, as an Advaitin, I find far too many confused and muddled teachers professing the illusory nature of vyavaharika because they are unable to explain mithya any other way, and because this gives them a convenient escape from having to address the hard questions of our empirical world.
I will divert briefly to tell a story that led me to investigate what I have called the sameness syndrome and its confusion among many of our spiritual teachers. This investigation led me to write the book, Being Different.
It was sometime in the early 90s that in a visit to Bangalore I was introduced to a young swami. I was told that as an IIT graduate who had recently joined a famous ashram as an acharya, he would be the type of intelligent, scientific, and logical person who would understand the issues I was working on, and that we ought to collaborate. I was hopeful for a productive meeting at the hotel I was staying at. When he arrived, we had barely introduced ourselves, and he started pointing out at a sign in the hotel and said, “See that sign Om there, I don’t believe in the Om sign because there should also be a Cross and a Crescent since they are all same.” I explained that difference is a key attribute of the cosmos, and that collapsing it into homogeneity was not only fake but also disrespectful of others.
We thus started out on a wrong foot and the more I discussed with him, the more I realized that he was confused with the common misconception that everything is the same and that anything that shows difference is a problem. So, I decided to respond to him in kind and I asked him why he wanted to wear the saffron robe and why not just jeans, why call himself Swami XYZ-ananda and not Reverend Joe Smith or Imam XYZ. I asked him why he follows a certain diet and lifestyle if everything is the same, or everything is illusory.
I find the kind of arguments he offered to be escapist because they are unable to distinguish between vyavaharika and paramarthika. Such proponents chant shloka-s of the paramarthika, but do it in the vyavaharika context, which shows that they do not understand the relationship. I started telling the swami that the shastra-s and the Vedic lifestyle requires understanding the importance of differences in the vyavaharika realm, which is where are we are situated. I offered the following examples:

• The theory of the guna-s – sattva, rajas and tamas – is applicable in the vyavaharika realm; the paramarthika realm is beyond the guna-s. One must become knowledgeable of this and live accordingly, and not negate the very basic teachings of our tradition.
• The science of Ayurveda, with the dosha-s of vata, pitta and kapha, is in the vyavaharika realm; only in the paramarthika realm there are no dosha-s and the issues we typically deal with in the world do not apply there. Escaping from difference is tantamount to negating Ayurveda.
• The Varnashrama system – the 4 varna-s and the 4 ashrama-s combined into a 4×4 matrix of 16 combinations – that structures our conduct, lifestyle, optimization of do-s and don’t-s, are all in the vyavaharika realm. In the paramarthika or transcendent realm, one does not have these context and there is no need to follow the dharma sastra-s.
• In fact, all the teachings in the Bhagavad-Gita, everything about karma and dharma, would be voided if one were to ignore the very existence of differences.

The Blunder of Sameness

The entire Dharmashastras are contextual and based on differences. The whole world of karma is dualistic – there is a difference between right and wrong. There is causation along with freedom of the individual to choose at each moment: We live in the world of causation if we are in the vyavaharika. There are those who do not want to deal with the complexity of the vyavaharika realm and hope to escape out of responsibilities, paradoxes, and challenges rather than facing them. This is escapism and world-negating and not what the Dharma teaches.

The entire Mahabharata is about Dharma v/s Adharma. If everything were the same because everyone is Bhagavan, and if everyone’s actions are good and right because it is Bhagavan doing them, then why would Sri Krishna ask Arjuna to fight? Why would Sri Rama have to fight Ravana if everything were the same and Ravana was also ultimately the same essence as Sri Rama, and if in the end it does not matter because everything is mithya? There would then be no message in Itihasa, and all our teachings would be dismissible as humbug.

The purushartha-s of kama, artha and dharma involve living in the world of contextual differences that shift from one situation to the next. Yoga’s ethics of yama and niyama are also dualistic – that is the nature of vyavaharika. The very idea of tapasya is vyavaharika. If everything is the same as everything else, why bother with tapasya and yajna?
The swami got especially upset when I asked him the pragmatic but profound question: What is the reason to distinguish between eating prasad and the waste material he flushes down the toilet? This was a genuine question that an Advaitin should be able to address. After all, there could not any essentially right or wrong thing to eat since fundamentally everything is the same, made of same elementary particles, and ultimately only consciousness. He angrily walked out of the meeting.

That swami’s way of thinking is a common confusion among a vast majority of Vedantins I have met, including many gurus. This has always been a profoundly serious problem for me. They do not feel comfortable criticizing or negating anything or anyone. But such negation is important, for it is not criticism driven by personalities and ego, but by important and empowering interpretations of our major works for the followers. If negation were not important, there would be no Ramayana or Mahabharata required as all persons and their actions would be considered fine.
Our tradition is based on logical arguments and debates. Adi Shankara himself was so rigorous in negating and falsifying the opponent. If there is no such thing as falsity, i.e., no such thing as a false statement, then the whole tradition of purva-paksha would be rendered futile.
The argument for not accepting differences, for not wanting to falsify, is a recipe for Dharmic catastrophe. It would confuse our population about the importance of taking action, leading to further loss of kshatriyata. This is what I feel is so wrong with today’s teachings of Vedanta by some teachers.

The Importance of Differences

The cosmos is built on diversity. Every kshana – moment in time – is distinct and no two moments are the same because there is constant flux. Within any species, no two individuals are identical. The entire plant kingdom has immense diversity; be it oak trees or roses, each has multiple varieties and sub-varieties. Diversity is the basis of the cosmos and all manifestation of the One is built on this principle. If one proposes that something is wrong with diversity, then one is saying the universe is fundamentally flawed.

The central idea should not be that homogeneity creates harmony but, harmony exists only with diversity. Harmony with diversity also means the need for mutual respect; one does not have to agree with everything the other person says.
People say that truth is one, hence we must accept whatever someone says. This is nonsense: There is a difference between truth and truth-claims. For the same patient (whose condition is the one truth), different doctors could have different truth-claims about the diagnosis. Likewise, different religions assert different truth-claims about the nature of fundamental reality. Any religious tradition, including our own, any ideological position, makes truth-claims. Such claims are subject to falsification and that has always been an important pursuit by intellectuals. We debate each other’s truth-claims.

This is seen all the time among scientists, mathematicians, doctors – they look at evidence, test them, and propose counter positions. Adi Shankara and others after him, were vociferous debaters about the truth-claims of other schools of thought, even though the truth of ultimate reality is one. But I find many Advaitins unfortunately backing out of such engagements by using escapist arguments when religious differences making conflicting truth-claims.

Strangely, many acharya-s find it easy to disagree with rival Vedanta schools but are uncomfortable disagreeing with other non-Vedic religious claims such as those in Christianity and Islam. My sense is that as bookworms they have learned the old debates from Shankara’s time, hence able to parrot them, but have not done enough purva-paksha of Abrahamic religions and cannot debate them well.
We are born in vyavaharika-sat and the path is lived here. The importance given to this realm as our ground for action is seen in the Upanishads–Brahman is embodied in the vyavaharika-sat. This profound life affirming outlook requires us to understand the nature of multiplicity, complexity, and diversity.
The manifested world consists of the principle of causation. Every action is a karma that produces some effect; and no effect happens by itself without a corresponding cause. Understanding this karmic principle of causation is needed to be able to live a Dharmic life. The way to transcend from the vyavaharika into the paramarthika realm is not achieved by pretending that the former is an illusion; the path requires one to go through vyavaharika and not escape from it by running away.
The frequent advice given by Advaitins to Kill the Mind as the way to achieve moksha is commonly misunderstood because it suggests one could use anesthesia to become unconscious and achieve moksha. This is ridiculous because the real meaning of such teachings is to achieve a state of conscious existence beyond causation. The ordinary mental state is imprisoned in causation, and this must be transcended. One’s thoughts are usually being caused by previous thoughts; hence, there is a thought parade. The ego claims ownership of all action including mental action, which creates karma and causes a reaction; this is the realm of causation.
Transcendence is a state beyond mental discursiveness. There are many techniques taught by our sages where one can live within the vyavaharika and becomes less and less subject to causation until one is functioning bodily but not causing any karmic reactions; only the effects of previous causes continue. There are prescribed paths which do not involve denying the vyavaharika circumstances one is born into.

Differentiating between Bipolar and Bifocal

Most students of Vedanta I know slip down the slope of what I consider two contradictory modes of living – the ashram mode and mundane life mode. When these individuals are in the ashram, they speak of lofty paramarthika concepts but the moment they drive out of the ashram, they switch to the pragmatic mode dealing with the daily issues of the ego-centered world. I see this duplicity in many who claim to be following the path of Advaita. This leads to my differentiation between the bipolar and bifocal modes of cognition.

Bipolar is when one is fluctuating between two modes alternatively: from mode A to mode B and back to A and then again B. Mode A is one’s dualistic life and mode B is the brief moments of meditation or in an ashram immersed in talks of nondualism. Switching between A and B is what I call as bipolar; it is a type of time-division multiplexing, where one is shifting back and forth between the two. Unfortunately, this does not solve the Advaitin’s predicament. When the going gets tough in the vyavaharika realm— i.e., in mode A—one escapes into the paramarthika realm, mode B, and once the problem is solved, one is back to “enjoy life” in mode A.

The second way of cognizing is what I call the bifocal way, i.e., one sees both realities at once. One does not escape out of one mode to another but recognizes both simultaneously. In other words, one consciously sees Bhagavan in the vyavaharika scenario, and performs driven by the truth of the paramarthika realm. One consciously recognizes all the nama-rupa as Bhagavan’s manifestation. One knows the Absolute, while dealing with the relative world of actions and causation. One sees Bhagavan as the other person performing his role (whether he is self-aware of being Bhagavan or not), while also being fully aware of oneself as Bhagwan’s role in the context. This is being bifocal, i.e., there is one part of my cognitive lens that is paramarthika and always fixed on it, and simultaneously superimposed on it I enact in the vyavaharika realm as the theatre of action.

To understand this, consider the following analogy: Suppose an actor A performs a role as a character B. On stage he pretends to be B, but all the while he also knows that he is actually A. Similarly, I am fixed in my absolute essence as sat-chit-ananda performing as an individual in this body; I engage and enact in the vyavaharika realm and simultaneously I am aware that others are also the same paramarthika essence performing different roles in the vyavaharika realm. This interaction between various roles is what the Bhagavad Gita calls the interaction between various guna-s, which are manifestations of the same Ultimate essence. We must understand dualism in this way and live this kind of bifocal life.

Nididhyasana

I would like to conclude by discussing Adi Shankara’s teaching of three stages of practice – shravanam, mananam and nididhyasanam:

• shravanam refers to receiving knowledge from the Vedic canon and understanding it with fidelity to the meaning of the concepts. Receptivity with an open mind is shravanam.
• Mananam refers to the churning, debating, arguing, and deep thinking on the subject and is an important part of our learning tradition. In both these, it is important to not let emotions distort the process of acquiring knowledge.
• Nididhyasanam is the transformation that follows both shravanam and mananam. Nididhyasanam is not something which can be done i.e., there is no effort on the part of individual will, because anything one does always produces an effect and keeps one in the world of causation. One cannot perform something to achieve transcendence from causation; one is already inherently transcendent. There is an absence of the I (ego) in focusing upon the object of contemplation. There is no doing of yoga and meditation for this.

Nididhyasanam is a doerless mode of spontaneous happening, and the practices are mere preparatory to lead to the non-doing. The paths are necessary but not sufficient because in the final stage one must let go of all paths.

For instance, there are special mantra-s for replacing the discursiveness of the mind, and then the mantra-s themselves dissolve. Such a mantra leads to emptiness and pure consciousness without content. This is a way of doing something to lead to non-doing. Another way I was taught by my guru is to engage with every person with the bifocal lens, i.e., to know that the interaction is with Bhagavan manifested as that person: You are Bhagavan, just like I am Bhagavan. This practice, which is an act of doing, wakes up automatically a new cognition, and this transformation cannot be caused or predicted and is a spontaneous cognitive shift. Nothing changes externally – the vyavaharika world is very much a part of reality, but one is no longer bound by its causation.

This is why I chose the topic of two-ness for this article rather than one-ness which is so common. I want to discuss what Advaita is not, and not merely parrot what it is. I do not come across conferences organized on two-ness by Advaitins, because most people are fixated on one-ness and this results in the same points being discussed again and again. In order to progress, it is important for Advaitins to discuss two-ness and the world of karma and dharma, and how this is related to the Absolute one-ness. Why and how has the One become the Two? Is there a genuine

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¹ Adi Shankara’s Vivekachudamani, verse 364 refers to nididhyasanam as being a hundred thousand times superior to mananam and mananam itself being a hundred times better than shravanam. Current translation used is Vivekachudamana of Sri Sankaracharya translated by Sami Madhavananda, 1921. The Advaita Ashram. Almora. Pp 161

change or is it illusory? Is multiplicity built into the unity or something new brought in from elsewhere?

The junction between the one-ness and the two-ness defines how we function and this needs to become the crux of the conversations of Advaitins. Since two-ness is the platform to realize one-ness, inquiry by Advaitins into the major yogic paths – karma, jnana, bhakti – through focus on two-ness can hold immense value for today’s pursuits. One-ness is the goal of all these three major paths, but none of them, as seen in their major works, such as the Bhagavad Gita for karma yoga, the Upanishads for the jnana yoga, and various stuti-s for bhakti yoga, call for world negation. Relooking and potentially recasting two-ness and the need for the bifocal lens in today’s context, in each of these paths is important for Advaitins now more than ever. I hope this article provokes the Advaitins to these important conversations instead of discussing only the already known theories of one-ness.