THE GRANDEST IDEA in the religion of Vedānta is that we may reach the same goal by different paths; and these paths I have generalized into four, namely, those of work, love, psychology, and knowledge. But you must remember, at the same time, that these divisions are not well marked and quite exclusive of each other. Each blends into the other. It is not a fact that you can find men who have no other faculty than that of work, or that you can find men who are devoted worshippers only, or that there are men who cultivate nothing but knowledge. These divisions are made in accordance with the type or the tendency that may be seen to prevail in a man. We have found that, in the end, all these four paths converge and become one. All religions and all spiritual disciplines lead to one and the same goal.
I have already tried to point out that goal. It is, as I understand it, freedom. Everything that we perceive around us is struggling towards freedom, from the atom to man, from the insentient, lifeless particle of matter to the highest existence on earth, the human soul. The world process in fact reveals this struggle for freedom. In all combinations every particle is trying to go its own way, to fly from the other particles; but the others are holding it in check. Our earth is trying to fly away from the sun, and the moon from the earth. Everything has a tendency to infinite dispersion. All that we see in the universe has for its basis this one struggle towards freedom. It is under the impulse of this tendency that the saint prays and the robber robs. When the line of action taken is not a proper one we call it evil, and when the manifestation of it is proper and high we call it good. But the impulse is the same: the struggle towards freedom. The saint is oppressed with the knowledge of his bondage, and he wants to get rid of it; so he worships God. The thief is oppressed with the idea that he does not possess certain things, and he tries to get rid of that want, to obtain freedom from it; so he steals. Freedom is the one goal of all nature, sentient or insentient. And, consciously or unconsciously, everything is struggling towards that goal. The freedom which the saint seeks is very different from that which the robber seeks; the freedom loved by the saint leads him to the enjoyment of infinite, unspeakable bliss, while that on which the robber has set his heart only forges other bonds for his soul.
There is to be found in every religion the manifestation of this struggle towards freedom. It is the groundwork of all morality, of unselfishness, which means getting rid of the idea that men are the same as their little bodies. When we see a man doing good work, helping others, we know that he cannot be confined within the limited circle of “me and mine.” There is no limit to this getting out of selfishness. All the great systems of ethics preach absolute unselfishness as the goal. Supposing this absolute unselfishness can be reached by a man, what becomes of him? He is no more the little Mr. So-and-so; he has acquired infinite expansion. That little personality which he had before is now lost to him for ever; he has become infinite; and the attainment of this infinite expansion is indeed the goal of all religions and of all moral and philosophical teachings. The personalist, when he hears this idea expressed philosophically, feels frightened. At the same time, if he preaches morality, he after all teaches the very same idea himself. He puts no limit to the unselfishness of man. Suppose a man becomes perfectly unselfish under the personalistic system, how are we to distinguish him from the perfected ones of other systems? He has become one with the universe, and to become that is the goal of all; only the poor personalist has not the courage to follow out his own reasoning to its right conclusion. Karma-yoga is the attaining through unselfish work of that freedom which is the goal of all human nature. Every selfish action, therefore, retards our reaching the goal, and every unselfish action takes us towards the goal. That is why the only definition that can be given of morality is this: That which is selfish is immoral, and that which is unselfish is moral.
But if you come to details, you will see that the matter is not quite so simple. For instance, as I have already mentioned, environment often makes the details different. The same action under one set of circumstances may be unselfish, and under another set quite selfish. So we can give only a general definition and must leave the details to be worked out by taking into consideration the differences in time, place, and circumstances. In one country one kind of conduct is considered moral, and in another the very same is immoral, because the circumstances differ. The goal of all nature is freedom, and freedom is to be attained only by perfect unselfishness; every thought, word, or deed that is unselfish takes us towards the goal, and as such is called moral. That definition, you will find, holds good in every religion and every system of ethics. In some religious systems, morality is derived from a superior Being—God. If you ask the followers of these systems why a man ought to do this and not that, their answer is: “Because such is the command of God.” But whatever be the source from which it is derived, their code of ethics also has the same central idea—not to think of self but to give up self.
And yet some persons, in spite of professing this high ethical idea, are frightened at the thought of having to give up their little personalities. We may ask those who cling to the idea of little personalities to consider the case of a person who has become perfectly unselfish, who has no thought for himself, who does no deed for himself, who speaks no word for himself—and then to say where his “himself” is. That “himself” is known to him only so long as he thinks, acts, or speaks for himself. If he is only conscious of others, of the universe, and of all, where is his “himself”? It is gone for ever.
Karma-yoga, therefore, is a system of discipline aiming at the attainment of freedom through unselfishness and good works. The karma-yogi need not believe in any religious doctrine whatever. He need not believe even in God, may not ask what his soul is or think of any metaphysical speculation. He has his own special aim of realizing selflessness; and he has to work it out himself. Every moment of his life must be realization, because he has to solve by mere work, without the help of doctrine or theory, the very same problem to which the jnāni applies his reason and inspiration and the bhakta his love.
Now comes the next question: What is this work? What is this doing good to the world? Can we do good to the world? In an absolute sense, no; in a relative sense, yes. No permanent or everlasting good can be done to the world; if it could be done, the world would not be this world. We may satisfy the hunger of a man for five minutes, but he will be hungry again. Every pleasure with which we supply a man may be seen to be momentary. No one can permanently cure this ever recurring fever of pleasure and pain. Can any permanent happiness be given to the world? In the ocean a wave cannot arise without causing a hollow somewhere else. The sum total of the good things in the world has been the same throughout in its relation to man’s need. It cannot be increased or decreased. Take the history of the human race, as we know it today. Do we not always find the same miseries and the same happinesses, the same pleasures and pains, the same differences in position? Are not some rich, some poor, some high, some low, some healthy, some unhealthy? All this was just the same with the Egyptians, the Greeks, and the Romans in ancient times as it is with the Americans today. So far as history is known, it has always been the same. Yet at the same time we find that along with all these incurable differences of pleasure and pain there has ever been the struggle to alleviate them. Every period of history has given birth to thousands of men and women who have worked hard to smooth the passage of life for others. And how far have they succeeded? We can only play at driving the ball from one place to another. We take away pain from the physical plane and it goes to the mental one. It is like that picture in Dante’s hell where the misers were given a mass of gold to roll up a hill. Every time they rolled it up a little, it rolled down again. All our discussions of the millennium are very nice as schoolboys’ stories, and they are no better than that. All nations that dream of the millennium also think that they, of all the peoples in the world, will then have the best of it for themselves. This is the wonderfully unselfish idea of the millennium.
We cannot add happiness to this world; similarly, we cannot add pain to it either. The sum total of pleasure and pain displayed here on earth will be the same throughout. We just push it from this side to the other side, and from that side to this; but it will remain the same, because to remain so is its very nature. This ebb and flow, this rising and falling, is in the world’s very nature; it would be as logical to hold otherwise as to say that we may have life without death. This is complete nonsense, because the very idea of life implies death and the very idea of pleasure implies pain. The lamp is constantly burning out, and that is its life. If you want to have life you have to die every moment. Life and death are only different expressions of the selfsame thing; they are the same thing looked at from different standpoints; they are the rising and the falling of the same wave, and the two form one whole. One looks at the “fall” side and becomes a pessimist; another looks at the “rise” side and becomes an optimist. When a boy is going to school and his father and mother are taking care of him, everything seems blessed to him; his wants are simple; he is a great optimist. But the old man, with his varied experience, becomes calmer and is sure to have his warmth considerably cooled down. So old nations, with signs of decay all around them, are apt to be less hopeful than new nations. There is a proverb in India: “A thousand years a city, and a thousand years a forest.” This change of city into forest and vice versa is going on everywhere, and it makes people optimists or pessimists according to the side they see of it.
The next idea we take up is that of equality. The idea of the millennium has been a great incentive for work. Many religions preach this as one of their ideals—that God is coming to rule the universe and that then there will be no difference at all among men. The people who preach this doctrine are mere fanatics, and fanatics are indeed the sincerest of mankind. Christianity was preached precisely on the basis of the fascination of this fanaticism, and that is what made it so attractive to the Greek and Roman slaves. They believed that under this millennial religion there would be no more slavery, that there would be plenty to eat and drink; and therefore they flocked round the Christian standard. Those who preached the idea were of course ignorant fanatics, but very sincere. In modern times this millennial aspiration is voiced through the slogans of liberty, equality, and fraternity. This also is fanaticism. True equality has never been and never can be on earth. How can we all be equal here? This impossible kind of equality implies total death. What makes this world what it is? Lost balance. In the primal state, which is called chaos, there was perfect balance. How, then, do you explain the diverse forces in the universe? Through struggle, competition, conflict. Suppose that all the particles of matter were held in equilibrium; would there be then any process of creation? We know from science that it is impossible. Disturb a sheet of water, and you will find every particle of the water trying to become calm again, one rushing towards another; and in the same way all the phenomena which we call the universe—all things therein—are struggling to get back to the state of perfect balance. Again a disturbance comes, and again we have combination and creation. Inequality is the very basis of creation. At the same time, the forces struggling to obtain equality are as much a necessity for creation as those which destroy it.
Absolute equality, which means a perfect balance of all the struggling forces in all the planes, can never be had in this world. Before you attain that state, the world will have become quite unfit for any kind of life, and no one will be here. We find, therefore, not only that all these ideas of the millennium and of absolute equality are impossible, but also that, if we try to carry them out, they will surely lead us to the day of destruction. What makes the difference between man and man? It is largely the difference in the brain. Nowadays no one but a lunatic will say that we are all born with the same brain-power. We come into the world with unequal endowments; we come as greater men or as lesser men, and there is no getting away from that pre-natally determined condition. The American Indians were in this country for thousands of years, and a mere handful of your ancestors came to their land. What a difference they have caused in the appearance of the country! Why did not the Indians make improvements and build cities, if all were equal? With your ancestors a different sort of brain-power came into the land; different bundles of past impressions came, and they manifested themselves. Absolute non-differentiation is death. So long as this world lasts, differentiation there will and must be, and the millennium of perfect equality will come only when a cycle of creation comes to its end. Before that, equality cannot be. Yet this idea of realizing the millennium is a great incentive. Just as inequality is necessary for creation, so the struggle to limit it is also necessary. If there were no struggle to become free and return to God, there would be no creation either. It is the difference between these two forces that determines the nature of the motives of men. There will always be these motives for work, some tending towards bondage and others towards freedom.
This world’s wheels within wheels are a terrible mechanism. As soon as we put our hands in it, we are caught and we are gone. We all think that when we have done a certain duty we shall be at rest; but before we have done a part of that duty another is already waiting. We are all being dragged along by this mighty, complex world-machine. There are only two ways out of it. One is to give up all concern with the machine and stand aside—that is, to give up all desires. That is very easy to say, but almost impossible to do. I do not know whether in twenty millions of men one can do that. The other way is to plunge into the world and learn the secret of work, and that is the way of karma-yoga. Do not fly away from the wheels of the world-machine, but stand inside it and learn the secret of work. Through proper work done inside, it is also possible to come out. Through this machine itself is the way out.
We have now seen what work is. It is a part of nature’s scheme, and it goes on always. Those who believe in God understand this better, because they know that God is not such an incapable being as will need our help. Although this world will go on always, we must remember that our goal is freedom; and according to karma-yoga that goal is to be reached through work. All ideas of making the world perfectly happy may be good as motives for fanatics; but we must know that fanaticism brings forth as much evil as good. The karma-yogi asks why you require any motive for work other than the inborn love of freedom. Go beyond the so-called “worthy” motives. “To work you have the right, but not to the fruits thereof.” Man can train himself to know and to practise that, says the karma-yogi. When the idea of doing good becomes a part of his very being, then he will not seek any motive from outside. Let us do good because it is good to do good; he who does good work even in order to get to heaven binds himself down, says the karma-yogi. Any work that is done with even the least selfish motive, instead of making us free, forges one more chain for our feet.
So the only way is to give up all the fruits of work, to be unattached to them. Know that this world is not we, nor are we this world; that we are really not the body; that we really do not work. We are the Self, eternally at rest and at peace. Why should we be bound by anything? It is very good to say that we should be perfectly non-attached; but what is the way to be so? Every good work we do without any ulterior motive, instead of forging a new link will break one of the links in the existing chain. Every good thought we send to the world, without thinking of any return, will be stored up and break one link in the chain, and make us purer and purer, until we become the purest of mortals. Yet all this may seem to be rather quixotic and too philosophical, more theoretical than practical. I have read many arguments against the teachings of the Bhagavad Gitā, and many have said that without motives men cannot work. They have never seen unselfish work except under the influence of fanaticism, and therefore they speak in that way.
Let me tell you in conclusion a few words about one man who actually carried this teaching of karma-yoga into practice. That man is Buddha. He is the one man who has carried it into perfect practice. All the prophets of the world, except Buddha, had external motives to move them to unselfish action. The prophets of the world, with this single exception, may be divided into two groups, one holding that they are Incarnations of God come down on earth, and the other holding that they are Messengers from God; and both draw their impetus for work from outside and expect reward from outside, however highly spiritual may be the language they use. But Buddha is the only prophet who said: “I do not care to know your various theories about God. What is the use of discussing all the subtle doctrines about the soul? Do good and be good, and this will take you to freedom and to whatever truth there is.” He was, in the conduct of his life, absolutely without personal motives; and what man worked more than he? Show me one character in history who has soared so high above all. The whole human race has produced but one such character, such high philosophy, such wide sympathy. This great philosopher preached the highest philosophy, and yet had the deepest sympathy for the lowest of animals and never put forth any claims for himself. He is the ideal karma-yogi, acting entirely without motive, and the history of humanity shows him to have been the greatest man ever born—beyond compare the greatest combination of heart and brain that ever existed, the greatest soul-power that has ever been manifested. He is the greatest reformer the world has seen. He was the first who dared to say: “Believe not because some old manuscripts are quoted; believe not because it is your national belief, because you have been made to believe it from your childhood; but reason it all out, and after you have analysed it and found out that it will do good to one and all, then believe it, live up to it, and help others to live up to it.”
He works best who works without any motive—neither for money, nor for fame, nor for anything else. And when a man can do that, he will be a Buddha and out of him will come the power to work in such a manner as will transform the world. This man represents the very highest ideal of karma-yoga.