Sikhism Paper

Beau Hilton

RELC630

Dr. Keller

The Goal of Each Day of Life Should Be to Be Fully Immersed in God

I was a minstrel, out of work, when the Lord took me into His service.

To sing His Praises day and night, He gave me His Order, right from the start.

God, the great giver, hears the prayer, and summons the

Minstrel to the mansion of his presence

Gazing upon God, the minstrel is rid of pain and hunger;

He does not think to ask for anything else.[1]

           

            Drowning in the morass of text, both sacred and secular, which has been written on religion and religious truths can make it difficult to recall the real purpose of religion: union with the infinite. Without denigrating sacred text, I suggest that perhaps we often look beyond the mark and forget to see the God in the Word. This subject has weighed heavily on my mind as of late, as these essays and others I have engaged in over the past short while tend to be of a religious nature. I have examined scripture with the eye of a scholar while trying to examine scholarship with an eye of faith, and I must admit that I have come short in both capacities. Studying Sikhism and immersion in God has regrounded me, brought me back to the core of worship – mysticism in the best sense: interaction followed by union directly with Deity. Three aspects of Sikh faith have had great effect on me, in particular. These are, namely, admittance of our nothingness without God, the peace and power that is found when connection is made with God, and the divinity of the domestic.

            If one affirms the existence of a supreme being, one necessarily affirms one’s own non-supremacy. While not sharing the same stance on creatio ex nihilo, Latter-day Saints and Sikhs both look to hukam, or divine command, as the organizing principle upon which life is built. Vahiguru spoke, and all the earth came into its organized state. Vahiguru spoke, and humankind breathed its first breath.[2] Truly, we owe our existence and our continuance to the Divine Being we all worship. “He gave you your body, your wealth, but you gave not Him your devotion. Says Nanak, ‘O foolish mortal, why shake you with fear now?’”[3] So wrote Guru Tegh Bahadur. It is not only logically inconsistent to admit the existence of God without then giving God one’s full devotion, it is also ungrateful and stupid. We ought to “shake with fear” at the thought of an all-powerful being’s displeasure, especially when that displeasure is wholly caused by not confessing His hand in all things. Nanak’s three-day conference with True Name yielded the reality of God’s broadness – there is neither Hindu nor Muslim, there is simply a race of God’s children who ought to give devotion and thanks for their very being. Not only is our existence owed to Vahiguru, but our continued happiness is also indebted. “From God alone all comforts, peace and from no other. Says Nanak to his heart, pay heed, remembering Him is the certain path delivering.”[4] The material world is in Vahiguru’s hands – the places, things, and people that sustain us are gifts and may be fleeting. The spiritual world is no less under Vahiguru’s control: “By His grace an individual meets his liberator, enabling a disciple to meditate on God's name, by His bhana [divine will] the universe was created and those blessed by Him joyfully accept the bhana.”[5] Grace is very active in the Sikh faith, and without God’s will or bhana, none will enjoy happiness.

            Having finished a brief discussion of what we are not when we are without God, let us turn to what we are when we are with God. The Sikhs have a history of greatness in martial ability, and respect for Sikhs in this matter is widespread. When a person is immersed in God, then maya and fear fade away. The Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji teaches that only those who seek the True name attain this status. “All the rest of the world is enticed by Maya; they do not obtain the state of fearless dignity.”[6] “Abiding in His Love, the fear of death has run away.”[7] It makes sense that a saint-soldier of Sikh caliber is one whose fear of death is swallowed up in True Name, who can charge into battle with thoughts only for the liberation of the oppressed and the glory of God. By extension, fearlessness contributes to vigorous activity in all spheres of life – if control of one’s life is surrendered to God, then no negative outcome is possible, regardless of the arena of action. Surrender to God also draws the “Glance of Grace,” though it must be remembered that Vahiguru’s grace falls where Vahiguru wills, and no amount of good deeds can force it. God’s grace cleanses one of all sin and makes “the dry wood blossom forth again in lush greenery.” [8] Finally, “One whose mind is filled with constant thought of God does true fulfillment find; Between such a person and God, know Nanak as truth, there is no difference left.”[9] Here we have mystical union – when one is with God, one is fulfilled because God is fulfilled, one is mighty because God is mighty, one is true because Sat Sri Akal. This ultimate identification with the divine would completely remodel the attitude with which one views earthly life. Equanimity, charity, insight – all of these come as a result of immersion in God.

            It is very good to wander about in the clouds, but one must remember the ground one’s feet are planted on. Theological ecstasy is nothing if it does not translate into vibrant and holy home life. Sikhism affirms the importance of home and family and, unlike many other traditions, places the highest path not in asceticism or withdrawal, but in domestic activity. “One who works for what he eats, and gives some of what he has – O Nanak, he knows the Path.”[10] Gurinder Singh Mann points out that liberation will come to individuals in families, engaged in domestic life.[11] It brings to mind the words of the Buddhist monk Buddhadasa Bhikkhu, “Dhamma is duty, duty is dhamma… If you are going to do something, see it as dhamma.”[12] The actions of a person fully immersed in God may not outwardly appear much different – they eat, sleep, go to work, spend time with their families, laugh, cry – but the intention and vision behind these actions is far from mundane. Doing the dishes becomes a significant religious act when one sees the doing of those dishes as supporting the most essential unit in God’s grand design – the family. It is easy to see the great wandering holy men and have envy. What spiritual heights they reach in their solitude! But the Guru Granth teaches,

Those who have truth as their fast, contentment as their sacred shrine of pilgrimage, spiritual wisdom and meditation as their cleansing bath, kindness as their deity, and forgiveness as their chanting beads - they are the most excellent people. Those who take the Way as their loincloth, and intuitive awareness their ritualistically purified enclosure, with good deeds their ceremonial forehead mark, and love their food - O Nanak, they are very rare.[13]

While Guru Nanak was respectful of the accoutrements of the religious milieu he found himself in, he nevertheless recognized the importance of simplicity and inward commitment over outward forms. Abandoning home and family is detrimental to spiritual growth, not beneficial. Donning a loincloth (or doffing a loincloth, in the case of the Digambara monks) and wandering is inferior to simply following the Way in the context of home and family. Sikhism teaches a simple doctrine: do not abandon life, but embrace it (with all of its mundane and sublime trappings), and do so while immersed in the Deity whose name is high above all.

            It might not be very professional to say so, but I love the Sikhs. Every Sikh I have ever met has been an example of righteousness and commitment to God and religion. As I have read the Guru Granth Sahib I have felt resonation on par with any I feel while reading the Standard Works. With many of the religious traditions I have studied, I have felt strongly that God’s hand is present. With Sikhism, I know it is. Spending time in the Granth has given me an appreciation for God’s greatness and the incredible benefits that I would get if I would seek His presence daily with more earnest. The three points I have outlined are not just a scholarly thesis; they are my own personal thesis. I believe more now than I ever have that I am nothing without God, that I am everything with Him, and that my greatest role in life is as a member of a family. I have often seen the note at the bottom of my papers, “Good job. You have the idea.” In this case, by God, I hope I do. Sat Sri Akal.

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[1] Pp. 376, 371. From Divine Bliss to Ardent Passion: Exploring Sikh Religious Aesthetics through the Ḍhāḍī

Genre. Author(s): Michael Nijhawan. Source: History of Religions, Vol. 42, No. 4 (May 2003), pp. 359-385. Published by: The University of Chicago Press. Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/378759 .

[2] P. 80. Mann, Gurinder Singh. Sikhism. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 2004. Print.

[3] P. 300. The Evanescent World and the Eternal Reality: The Last Hymns of the Ninth Sikh Guru. Author(s): Surjit Dulai. Source: Journal of South Asian Literature, Vol. 28, No. 1/2, MISCELLANY (Spring, Fall 1993),pp. 297-307. Published by: Asian Studies Center, Michigan State University. Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/40873346.

[4] Ibid. P. 304

[5] P. 194. Brotherhood of the Pure: The Poetics and Politics of Cultural Transgression. Author(s): Harjot Oberoi. Source: Modern Asian Studies, Vol. 26, No. 1 (Feb., 1992), pp. 157-197. Published by: Cambridge University Press. Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/312721.

[6] Guru Granth, 220. http://www.srigranth.org/servlet/gurbani.gurbani?Action=Page&Param=220&english=t&id=9494

[7] Guru Granth, 10. http://www.srigranth.org/servlet/gurbani.gurbani?Action=Page&Param=221&g=1&h=1&r=1&t=1&p=0&k=0 

[8] Guru Granth, 221. http://www.srigranth.org/servlet/gurbani.gurbani?Action=Page&Param=10&english=t&id=463

[9] P. 300. The Evanescent World and the Eternal Reality.

[10] Guru Granth, 1245. http://www.srigranth.org/servlet/gurbani.gurbani?Action=Page&g=1&h=1&r=1&t=1&p=0&k=0&Param=1245

[11] P. 82. Sikhism.

[12] Dhamma is Duty, Duty is Dhamma. Buddhadasa Bhikkhu. Atammayatarama Buddhist Monastery tract. Woodinville,WA.

[13] Guru Granth, 1245.

HUM 201 Journal Entry 1

The Homeric Simile: A Fantastic Escape

“Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habañeros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end… Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines.”

George R.R. Martin, “On Fantasy”

            The truth is, Man has been the same since Adam. It is an unsettling tendency of popular philosophy and scholarship to apply to the ancestors a kind of otherworldly reality, a morality and frame of mind completely different from our own. “They did not feel as we feel,” the rallying cry continues, “barbarians all! Watch as Abraham sacrifices his son, as Hector cuts down men by the dozens. Where is their civility; whence came ours? Certainly not from them.” Though ethics and social interaction without doubt changes with the generations (the descendents of kings wash cars at the gas station with some regularity, I am certain), the interior and sacred part of humankind remains untouched by social evolution and devolution. We still see the stars and are filled with wonder, and ne’er a day goes by that boys and men, girls and women do not find something miraculous in the dirt beneath their feet. These brief, transcendent moments draw us away, if but for a breath’s span, from the coarseness of the so-called “reality.” In Homer’s exquisite tradition, simile becomes the breath that sometimes draws us away from action, sometimes intensifies feeling, and sometimes draws us into closer examination, but always elevates us into the realm of the fantastic. In that place, I find, we have much more in common with the ancients then is readily apparent when outward actions alone are compared. It is my purpose to examine several of Homer’s similes and their effect on the reader. Specifically, I will examine two immortalizing similes and three merciful escape similes (these characterizations are my own). If Homeric simile is still effective, it can only be because we, though separated by thousands of years, breathe the same air that Homer did.

            Photographers that are considered great very rarely see things that have not been seen before. Countless viewers have seen the mountains, hills, seasons, and objects they photograph. The special ability of great photographers is to capture everyday things and people in a new and beautiful light, and thus Edward Weston made his living photographing wrinkled bell peppers and an occasional toilet (see “Excusado”). When Homer compares the din of battle on the plain of Troy to “woodcutters… working in a distant valley,” (153) he immortalizes the sound of the lumberjack and elevates it to art. Forever after, the reader will hear the work of felling trees and be transported to that day in Troy. A few lines later, the throng of flies around Sarpedon’s corpse is described:

“But if you have ever seen how flies

Cluster about the brimming milk pails

On a dairy farm in early summer” (153).

Not only is a scene of idyll transformed into one of horror, but the juxtaposition is, as before, imprinted upon the reader in a permanent way. With tools of pen and ink, Homer has accomplished the same task that is accomplished today with silver gelatin and liquid developer (or computers and printers) – we are brought with him to see death swarms and dairy flies as linked, and one will evermore reference the other. Once there was calm beauty in one and shocking terror in the other, and now each aches with association. As a beautiful photograph of a burnt forest draws out of the viewer a conflict, so does Homer’s simile. It seems that, although mediums change, art continues to utilize the same tools as it seeks to draw out human emotion. And these tools still work.

            Another tool used in both antiquity and modernity is the “merciful escape,” the break in action that allows the audience to forget about the current situation and steel themselves against the next intense happening. In cinema one often sees a well-placed joke function as the merciful escape, and this is effective, but Homer opts for merciful escape through scenes, by and large, of natural events and beauty and life before the war. Three merciful escapes are given during Achilles’ final pursuit of Hector (several more similes are used, but they serve to intensify the action, not to give a break from it). Homer first takes the reader away from a murderous chase of national import to a horse race at a hero’s funeral games, where the outcome will not be life or death, but a prize of “woman or tripod” (177). Oh, how the audience, both those behind the book and those on the wall of Troy, wishes this was the truth! We are allowed for a moment to believe that these men are no more than two boys racing to the end of the street, and we are spared, however briefly, from bloody reality. Next we are taken to a pastoral scene, another sport:

            “A hunting hound starts a fawn in the hills,

            Follows it through brakes and hollows,

            And if it hides in a thicket, circles,

            Picks up the trail, and renews the chase” (178)

Here we are a little closer to reality. The consequence is life or death, but of a fawn, not of a man or nation. The excitement of the hunt takes over, and we follow the hunter. Before the close of the battle, we have one more merciful escape, this one the most fantastic of all.

            “In the gloom of night

            Star of perfect splendor,”(181)

this compared to Achilles’ glinting spearpoint moments before it slakes its thirst on shining Hector’s gullet. From the intensity of battle we are removed to the place of the pensive astronomer, wondering at the brightest beacon in the night sky. From day to night, from terrestrial to celestial, we are taken upward and outward, and we see the last thing Hector sees before his doom. The spear, fearsome in its own right, is transformed into the mythic weapon, killer of the god-men, forged of starlight in a dragonfire forge. This is not only fantasy, it is high fantasy, the stuff Tolkien and his successors would try to capture some thirty centuries later. It is the mixing of something infinite and untouchable with the finite and tangible. Our hearts are drawn to the glorious impossibility of it all, and suddenly we look out the plastic window to see not slats, flaps, and turbine engines, but Icarus’ delicate wings.

            There are many more similes I have not touched (including my favorite, from an aesthetic standpoint, in lines 565-570), but the ones shown have been sufficient to defend my point. The methods Homer uses to create from the mundane something fantastic, or to create from the already fantastic something even more sublime, are methods that resonate with the modern reader and prove that we are still built of the same material. They are still effective at allowing us to catch our breath or at forcing us to hold our breath. They make out of our normal experience something more beautiful and exciting, and they cause connections within us to be made that enrich life and enliven the commonplace.

            I close with a quote from Edward Weston, the aforementioned photographer, that reminds us of what George R.R. Martin said at the outset and hints at a way we might, with Homer and the rest of the great creative minds, move out of the everyday humdrum.

“I have been photographing our toilet, that glossy enameled receptacle of extraordinary beauty. Here was every sensuous curve of the ‘human figure divine’ but minus the imperfections. Never did the Greeks reach a more significant consummation to their culture, and it somehow reminded me, in the glory of its chaste convulsions and in its swelling, sweeping, forward movement of finely progressing contours, of the Victory of Samothrace.” (quoted in On Photography, by Susan Sontag. No page numbers.)

Let us see in the world around us such similes, and create for ourselves a reality far grander than the limits imposed by the trap of the literal.

HUM 201 Journal Entry 2

In Defense of Creon

            I am uncomfortable with the characterization of any person as wholly good or wholly evil. It must be remembered that “Lucifer” means “Light Bringer,” and was a title earned by merit and accomplishment – the one who is now called Satan was once a great and noble prince of the realm, who by process of time and pride became the degraded devil he now is. Our Savior, ever without offense, nevertheless grew from grace to grace and necessarily made some mistakes, even though these mistakes were never of sinful nature. Those who are now evil were once possessed of some good. Those who are now perfect were, at one time, subject to human infirmity. In Antigone, Creon is such a character, often unfairly classed as completely heartless and evil. As a Creonite apologetic, I will seek to explain (though not excuse) his case by appealing to his virtue as a leader, his commitment to his conception of morality, and by placing some of the blame where it rightfully belongs.

            “Remember this: our country is our safety. Only while she voyages true on course can we establish friendships, truer than blood itself. Such are my standards. They make our city great” (658). There is no patriot of any country who can find much to disagree with in this statement from Creon’s opening speech. Having found himself in charge of his beloved country, he sets in action a law, reasonable to most, seeking to make an example of the traitors. In countries throughout history the fates of traitorous few have been shown as a warning to those within and without the country – the second World War saw Mussolini’s body dragged around his homeland, Saddam Hussein’s public execution (though having the opposite effect on some) brought closure to Iraqis who had been the victims of his regime. Leaving Polynices' body to rot in the street was a bold and powerful statement and political move, and cannot be faulted. Creon could have had little clue of the aftermath of the action. Creon’s goal was just as outlined in the above quote: to keep his country “true on course” for the safety of all his people.

            It is right to cite Antigone’s noble commitment to virtue, but often this is done at the expense or denial of Creon’s similar commitment. As will be treated later, both of their brands of commitment proved their downfall when taken to blind extremes, but both of their brands of commitment showed true character. Even as Antigone cites the unwritten law of the gods requiring burial, Creon exclaims alongside Vizzini from The Princess Bride “Exactly when did you last see the gods celebrating traitors? Inconceivable!” (661). Both of these powerful wills drew, at least at first, on loyalty to the gods. Creon is torn in many directions by his desire for stability in his kingdom, loyalty to his gods, and consideration for his family. His very anger seems to be a ploy as he seeks to shield himself from the pain of actions that he sees as necessary. From his earlier declaration that a country must be protected even at the expense of a friend (659), he struggles to reconcile himself to what must be done. In this he becomes blind and rage crosses the threshold of righteous indignation, but he is no blinder than the rest of the characters in their brash actions.

            Within minutes, Creon’s actions cost him his son, his wife, and Antigone. In a matter of days he has become alone in the world, a king atop a throne with no one to care for. But, is it really fair to place all the blame with Creon? Instead of cursory decapitation, he opted to have Antigone placed in a prison – was he perhaps giving himself time to cool off before he did anything else brainlessly? Antigone immediately committed suicide – noble action, escapist mistake, or prideful punishment of her uncle? The son’s suicide – was it a la Romeo and Juliet, or a la lovesick, asinine, quick-to-be-dumb kid (is there a difference?)? The queen’s suicide is, perhaps, the most understandable – she had just lost her posterity – but why so quick to end it? In a moment, everybody goes lemmings and throws themselves onto sharp pieces of metal, and for what good? Did any of them consider the effect their actions would have on those around them – their families, their friends, those over whom they had responsibility (and, as royalty, they certainly had responsibility)? As angry as they undoubtedly were at Creon, did they consider what state they would leave him in? What state would they leave the country in, with the royal family dissolved? Allowing room and sympathy for mental conditions that leave the victims bereft of the sense that would prevent suicide, this all just seems so unnecessary and stupid. It is unlikely that all of these people suddenly became severely chemically imbalanced. In light of all of these possibilities, it is only honest to stop blaming Creon alone. Without reservation I say that Creon made mistakes, but the very poor choices of others only compounded the mistakes that would have been rectified if only a few more minutes of sanity had prevailed.

            The power of tragedy is to stir up within us strong emotions that cleanse and teach. If this is true, then Antigone is powerful stuff, indeed. Not only do we see the terror that befalls people due to a lack of communication, an influx of pride, and the pointlessness of rash actions, but we identify in ourselves times when we have been party to one or more of these sins. By examining the characters in tragedy and history and attempting to see in them round and complex human beings, we can better get at the true stuff of human life and humanity. We are less likely to look at ourselves as quite so good, and we are less likely to look at our enemies as quite so bad. Taking the sad tale of Creon as our guide, we can begin to consider more carefully, act with more foresight, and see the people in the world as more akin to us than we once thought.