The Divinity’s difficult birth

Again he said: 'What shall we say the kingdom of God is like? What parable shall we use to describe it? It is like a mustard seed, which is the smallest of all seeds on earth. Yet when planted, it grows and becomes the largest of all garden plants, with such big branches that the birds can perch in its shade.’ (Mark 4.30-32).

Through our yogic practice the experience of the Divinity, our own Being, starts to sprout inside us. But this does not mean the descent of visions of God amongst thunder and lightning. It is an experience that occurs in a subtle way, through our sadhana:

The coming of the kingdom of God is not something that can be observed. Nor will people say: here it is, or there it is, because the kingdom of God is in your midst, (Luke 17.20-21).

Our work as yogis is to be good gardeners, nurturing each day the seed of the Kingdom of God with the sadhana, watering the plant with our energy and our devotion, avoiding that is eaten by the animals of our lower trends, booting the weeds of the lower negativity through the cultivation of discernment and detachment. Until that plant grows enough for all our life to rest under the shadow of this experience.

We need to cultivate the internal consciousness to perceive this seed, to find the inner treasure of our own Being. An Jesus says it clearly in his words:

Be dressed ready for serving and keep your lamps burning. Like servants waiting for their master to return from a wedding banquet, to open the door as soon as he returns and knocks. It will be good for those servants whose master finds them watching when he comes. Truly I tell you, he will dress himself to serve, will have them recline at the table and will come and wait on them. Even if he comes in the middle of the night or toward daybreak; if he finds them waiting, it will be good for them!, (Luke 12.35-38).

Jesus defends here the practice of consciousness. Creating this space of silence and receptivity inside us is what allows us to recognize the coming of the master, the lord of the house: our own Being. We create this space through our daily yogic practice, specially during the meditation. And the joy that we experience gradually, increasingly, pales the temporal pleasures that we pursue in the market of the world. Jesus is quite clear in his parables that we are to find the Kingdom of God in our hearts, in our inner experience:

For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also, (Matthew 6.21).

And to find your heart is to find yourself. Therefore, what more can we wish for, other than increasing this own plenitude?

The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.

Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it.

Once again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was let down into the lake and caught all kinds of fish. When it was full, the fishermen pulled it up on the shore. Then they sat down and collected the good fish in baskets, but threw the bad away. This is how it will be at the end of the age, (Matthew 13.44-49).

Meditating is casting the net of self consciousness and collecting all kinds of fish, of internal contents, thoughts and tendencies. During meditation we learn to separate the wheat from the chaff, to let go of those emotional and mental contents that are superfluous, throwing them away like if they were bad fish. Our superior tendencies will intervene more and more in our life, neutralizing the inferior ones.

And here is where “the end of the world” starts. This means that we cease to be enchanted by the worldly achievements, and start finding an internal referent that is not dependent on the circumstances. A referent for inspiration, wisdom and joy that, like the bread and the wine, nourishes us. We will start to distance ourselves from the world’s hustle and bustle, from its joys and tragedies, and we stop looking in it for what we have found inside ourselves. We stand on the Divinity’s rock that we are starting to feel inside us:

And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it, (Matthew 16.18).

The divine consciousness, like a mustard seed, will grow or develop gradually on the firm rock of the Divine internal perception, and the lie that is the fascination for the temporal world will be fading away more and more: “the end of times” will come.
But this birth of the Divinity inside us is a difficult process. Our mind, the fortress of our ego, is full of own trends that are not going to recognize anything superior that might threaten their existence. These trends will try to boycott this birth at all costs:

When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi, (Matthew 2.16).

This episode of the killing of the innocents, only referred to in the Gospel of Matthew, probable never happened. Not even Flavio Josefo, the chronicler, speaks of this in his exhaustive narration of King Herod’s epics. So, if it did not happen, the meaning of this episode would be spiritual instead.

The Srimad Bhagavatam narrates how Krishna, the Divinity’s incarnation, suffers at birth the persecution of King Kamsa. He knows, through a prophecy, that when Krishna grows he will finish with him and his malice. So, just after he was born, Krishna was smuggled out of Kamsa's palace to avoid being murdered. And he grew up hidden in the village of Gokula, where he would not be found.

Herod and Kamsa represent our ego, our relating to the body and the world of "I", fortified in the palace of our mind, with all its cortege of trends, likes and dislikes.

The experience of the Divinity can be manifested as inspiration, peace and joy. And after our meditation, Herod's cortege will fall upon this peace and joy, questioning them in a thousand different ways and offering other things as substitutes. The mind can adduce: “Is that it?” or “Yes, but…,” o can look for other interests to pursue.

An European medieval legend tells how once a hunter was cursed, he spent all his time chasing after a prey that he could never catch. This is the ordinary human condition, and that is the mind's vital scheme: "I” will be happy when I have “that.” The internal joy, which is unconditional, without external cause, without beginning or end, dismantles the mind. So if this inner joy arises during our yoga practice, the mind will not give it space to grow.

Sooner or later, the spiritual aspirant will need to face his own tendencies, will need to crucify his ego or his little “I” to reinstate the kingdom of God, so Krishna can recover his kingdom and be crowned as the King.

The epic poem Mahabarata narrates how Arjuna, the warrior, must face his former kinship in battle, so he can reinstate righteousness in the kingdom. Arjuna is dismayed thinking of the coming battle, but Krishna, his friend and divine guide, goads him to act as a warrior and fight to the end:

It is not befitting in a man of your noblesse to succumb to dismay when the time for fighting comes. How can you? This will not make you win in heaven or earth, (Bhagavad Gita II.2).

Oh Arjuna! There is a battle to be won before the doors of heaven are opened to us. Happy are the warriors whose attitude is to fight in that war!, (Bhagavad Gita II.32).

Krishna himself does not fight, but drives Arjuna’s chariot. It is us who must commence the battle to obliterate our beloved inferior tendencies, which have been part of our family all our life. Jesus also expresses this concept in his characteristic style:

Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to turn a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; a man’s enemies will be the members of his own household.

Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves their son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it, (Matthew 10.34-39).

During our yogic practice, the fire of the sadhana burns through those egotistic personal tendencies, one by one. This is the final battle to conquest the kingdom, the Kingdom of God, a final battle between the divine forces and the bad or egotistic ones. This archetype also appears in the Apocalypse of Saint John, in which this final battle takes place.

Judgment day, with the coming of Christ and the separation between good and bad men, represents the internal process in which the bad tendencies are burned in the sadhana’s fire and the Kingdom of God is reinstated on Earth.

Do not weaken, Arjuna! It does not become you. Get over this petty weakness and arise like the fire that burns everything in its path, (Bhagavad Gita II.3).

The angels will come and separate the wicked from the righteous, and throw them into the blazing furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth, (Matthew 13.49-50).

Indian mythology sees Muruga, Shiva’s son, as the chief of the celestial armies. Muruga is depicted as a teenager holding a spear, who originally has six faces and lives in six different mountains.

The six faces and the six homes are the first six chakras, the field where the battle for the Kingdom of God takes place. When the forces of good win, when the six chakras open up, the King, the Divinity, will be able to govern from the seventh chakra, the crown chakra, the Being's abode.



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