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Chapter 27: The Publican And the PhariseeReflecting a little on the diverse circumstances of life, it is worthwhile to seriously comprehend the foundations upon which we rely.
One person depends on his position, another on money, another on prestige, another on his past, someone else on some title or other, and so on. Most curious is that we all, whether rich or destitute, need everybody else, and live from everybody else, even though we may be inflated with pride and vanity. |
Let us think for a moment on the things that could be taken from us. What would our fate be in a bloody and drunken revolution? What would remain of the foundations on which we depend? Woe are we! We believe ourselves to be very strong, and we are frightfully weak!
The “I” which believes itself to be the base on which we rely must be dissolved, if in reality we wish for authentic Bliss. This “I” underestimates people, feels it is better than everyone else, more perfect in everything, wealthier, more intelligent, more experienced in life, and so on.
It is opportune to quote that parable of Jesus, the Great Kabir, about the two men who were praying. It was told to some people who considered themselves just and who scorned others.
Jesus the Christ said, “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’ But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’
I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” (Luke 18:10-14)
To begin to realize the real state of nothingness and misery in which we find ourselves is absolutely impossible as long as the concept of “more” exists within us. For example: I am more just than another, wiser than so and so, more virtuous than someone else, richer and more experienced in the things of life, more chaste, more responsible in my duties, etc., etc., etc.
It is not possible to pass through the eye of a needle as long as we are “rich,” as long as the complex of “more” exists within us.
“It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the Kingdom of God.” (Luke 18:25)
Ideas like “my school is the best,” and that of “my neighbor is no good,” that “my religion is the only true one and all others are false and perverse,” that “so and so’s wife is horrible and mine is a saint,” that “my friend Robert is a drunkard and I am a very judicious and abstemious person,” and so on, are what make us feel rich, which is why each of us is the biblical parable’s camel in relation to the esoteric work.
It is urgent that we observe ourselves from moment to moment, with the purpose of knowing clearly the foundations on which we rest.
When we discover that which most offends us in a particular moment, the discomfort that something or other causes us, then we discover the foundations on which we depend psychologically.
Such foundations are, according to the Christian Gospel, “the sands upon which we build our house.” (Matthew 7:26)
It is necessary to note carefully when and how much one disdains others, feeling superior, perhaps due to a title or social position, acquired experience, or money, etc.
It is very grave to feel oneself “rich,” superior to someone or other for one reason or another. Such people cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven.
It is good to discover what gratifies us, what satisfies our vanity; this will show us the foundations on which we depend.
However, such a form of observation must not be a merely theoretical matter; we must be practical and observe ourselves carefully and directly, from instant to instant.
When one begins to comprehend one’s own misery and nothingness, when one abandons delusions of grandeur, when one discovers the folly of so many titles, honors, and vain feelings of superiority over one’s fellow man, it is an unmistakable sign that one is beginning to change.
One cannot change if one clings to that which says: “my house,” “my money,” “my property,” “my job,” “my virtues,” “my intellectual capacities,” “my artistic abilities,” “my
knowledge,” “my prestige,” and so on.
This clinging to “mine,” to “my,” is more than enough to impede our recognition of our nothingness and inner misery.
One is shocked by the spectacle of a fire or a shipwreck. At such times desperate people often seize hold of laughable things, things of no importance.
Poor people! They feel themselves part of these things, depend on trivialities, are attached to things which don’t have the least importance.
To perceive ourselves through external things, to base ourselves in them, is equivalent to being in a state of absolute unconsciousness.
The sense of the “Seity,” (the Real Being), is only possible by dissolving all those “I’s” that we carry within. Beforehand, such a sense is more than impossible.
Unfortunately, those who adore the “I” do not accept this.
They believe themselves to be Gods. They think that they already possess those Glorious Bodies of which Paul of Tarsus spoke.
They assume that the “I” is divine, and there is nobody who can get such absurdities out of their heads.
One does not know what to do with such people; one explains, and they do not understand, always holding fast to the sands on which they have built their houses, always immersed in their dogmas, in their whims, in their caprices.
If those people were to observe themselves seriously, they would verify for themselves the doctrine of the many. They would discover, in themselves, the whole multiplicity of persons or “I’s” that live within.
How could the real feeling of our own true Being exist in us, when those “I’s” are feeling for us, thinking for us?
The most serious aspect of this tragedy is we think we are thinking and we feel that we are feeling, when in reality it is another who, in a given moment, thinks with our tortured brain and feels with our afflicted heart.
How wretched we are! How many times do we believe we are loving, when what is happening is that another within us, filled with lust, is using the heart center?
We are the unfortunates! We confuse animal passion with love, despite the fact that it is someone else within us, within our personality, who passes through such confusion.
None of us would ever think we could pronounce those words of the Pharisee in the biblical parable, “God, I thank thee that I am not as other men are…”
Though it may appear incredible, this is nonetheless the way we behave every day. The butcher in the market says, “I am not like the rest of the butchers who sell bad quality
meat and exploit people.”
The textile merchant in his shop exclaims, “I am not like the rest of the merchants who know how to cheat on measuring, and who have become rich.”
The dairyman states, “I am not like the rest of the dairymen who put water in their milk. I like to be honest”.
The housewife says to her visitor, “I am not like so and so who flirts with other men. I am, thank God, a decent person, faithful to my husband.”
Conclusion: other people are scoundrels, unjust, adulterous, thieves and perverse, but each one of us is as gentle as a lamb, “a little saint,” “good enough to be a Golden Child in some church.”
How foolish we are! We often think that we could never do the same stupid and perverse things that we see others do, and as a result, we arrive at the conclusion that we are magnificent people. Unfortunately, we do not see the stupid and mean-spirited things we do.
There are strange moments in life when our mind, without worries of any kind, is at rest. When the mind is quiet, when the mind is silent, then arrives the new.
In such moments it is possible to see the bases, the foundations, on which we rest.
With the mind being in profound inner repose, we can verify for ourselves the crude reality of the sands of life on which we build our house. (See Matthew 7:24-29; the
parable of the two foundations)
The “I” which believes itself to be the base on which we rely must be dissolved, if in reality we wish for authentic Bliss. This “I” underestimates people, feels it is better than everyone else, more perfect in everything, wealthier, more intelligent, more experienced in life, and so on.
It is opportune to quote that parable of Jesus, the Great Kabir, about the two men who were praying. It was told to some people who considered themselves just and who scorned others.
Jesus the Christ said, “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’ But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’
I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” (Luke 18:10-14)
To begin to realize the real state of nothingness and misery in which we find ourselves is absolutely impossible as long as the concept of “more” exists within us. For example: I am more just than another, wiser than so and so, more virtuous than someone else, richer and more experienced in the things of life, more chaste, more responsible in my duties, etc., etc., etc.
It is not possible to pass through the eye of a needle as long as we are “rich,” as long as the complex of “more” exists within us.
“It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the Kingdom of God.” (Luke 18:25)
Ideas like “my school is the best,” and that of “my neighbor is no good,” that “my religion is the only true one and all others are false and perverse,” that “so and so’s wife is horrible and mine is a saint,” that “my friend Robert is a drunkard and I am a very judicious and abstemious person,” and so on, are what make us feel rich, which is why each of us is the biblical parable’s camel in relation to the esoteric work.
It is urgent that we observe ourselves from moment to moment, with the purpose of knowing clearly the foundations on which we rest.
When we discover that which most offends us in a particular moment, the discomfort that something or other causes us, then we discover the foundations on which we depend psychologically.
Such foundations are, according to the Christian Gospel, “the sands upon which we build our house.” (Matthew 7:26)
It is necessary to note carefully when and how much one disdains others, feeling superior, perhaps due to a title or social position, acquired experience, or money, etc.
It is very grave to feel oneself “rich,” superior to someone or other for one reason or another. Such people cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven.
It is good to discover what gratifies us, what satisfies our vanity; this will show us the foundations on which we depend.
However, such a form of observation must not be a merely theoretical matter; we must be practical and observe ourselves carefully and directly, from instant to instant.
When one begins to comprehend one’s own misery and nothingness, when one abandons delusions of grandeur, when one discovers the folly of so many titles, honors, and vain feelings of superiority over one’s fellow man, it is an unmistakable sign that one is beginning to change.
One cannot change if one clings to that which says: “my house,” “my money,” “my property,” “my job,” “my virtues,” “my intellectual capacities,” “my artistic abilities,” “my
knowledge,” “my prestige,” and so on.
This clinging to “mine,” to “my,” is more than enough to impede our recognition of our nothingness and inner misery.
One is shocked by the spectacle of a fire or a shipwreck. At such times desperate people often seize hold of laughable things, things of no importance.
Poor people! They feel themselves part of these things, depend on trivialities, are attached to things which don’t have the least importance.
To perceive ourselves through external things, to base ourselves in them, is equivalent to being in a state of absolute unconsciousness.
The sense of the “Seity,” (the Real Being), is only possible by dissolving all those “I’s” that we carry within. Beforehand, such a sense is more than impossible.
Unfortunately, those who adore the “I” do not accept this.
They believe themselves to be Gods. They think that they already possess those Glorious Bodies of which Paul of Tarsus spoke.
They assume that the “I” is divine, and there is nobody who can get such absurdities out of their heads.
One does not know what to do with such people; one explains, and they do not understand, always holding fast to the sands on which they have built their houses, always immersed in their dogmas, in their whims, in their caprices.
If those people were to observe themselves seriously, they would verify for themselves the doctrine of the many. They would discover, in themselves, the whole multiplicity of persons or “I’s” that live within.
How could the real feeling of our own true Being exist in us, when those “I’s” are feeling for us, thinking for us?
The most serious aspect of this tragedy is we think we are thinking and we feel that we are feeling, when in reality it is another who, in a given moment, thinks with our tortured brain and feels with our afflicted heart.
How wretched we are! How many times do we believe we are loving, when what is happening is that another within us, filled with lust, is using the heart center?
We are the unfortunates! We confuse animal passion with love, despite the fact that it is someone else within us, within our personality, who passes through such confusion.
None of us would ever think we could pronounce those words of the Pharisee in the biblical parable, “God, I thank thee that I am not as other men are…”
Though it may appear incredible, this is nonetheless the way we behave every day. The butcher in the market says, “I am not like the rest of the butchers who sell bad quality
meat and exploit people.”
The textile merchant in his shop exclaims, “I am not like the rest of the merchants who know how to cheat on measuring, and who have become rich.”
The dairyman states, “I am not like the rest of the dairymen who put water in their milk. I like to be honest”.
The housewife says to her visitor, “I am not like so and so who flirts with other men. I am, thank God, a decent person, faithful to my husband.”
Conclusion: other people are scoundrels, unjust, adulterous, thieves and perverse, but each one of us is as gentle as a lamb, “a little saint,” “good enough to be a Golden Child in some church.”
How foolish we are! We often think that we could never do the same stupid and perverse things that we see others do, and as a result, we arrive at the conclusion that we are magnificent people. Unfortunately, we do not see the stupid and mean-spirited things we do.
There are strange moments in life when our mind, without worries of any kind, is at rest. When the mind is quiet, when the mind is silent, then arrives the new.
In such moments it is possible to see the bases, the foundations, on which we rest.
With the mind being in profound inner repose, we can verify for ourselves the crude reality of the sands of life on which we build our house. (See Matthew 7:24-29; the
parable of the two foundations)
