The Story of the Prodigal Son : The Journey Home

Jesus' story of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15) is among the most beloved of the New Testament. It is a promise of God's eternal love and forgiveness. In it there is no mention of hell or punishment. Instead it a story of atonement, forgiveness and redemption. This is the archetypal drama of human life. It is this that lifts this story above so many others. 

But let's review the basics of the story:

A father has two sons. His younger son requests early receipt of his inheritance. He takes it and leaves his father's home, traveling to "foreign" lands. There he squanders his inheritance in "riotous" living.

When the land where he now dwells is hit with famine and he is impoverished, the younger son takes a job on a farm feeding husks to swine.

One day it dawns on him that even his father's servants are better fed and treated than he. "Why not go back to my father and beg forgiveness. I will ask to be but a hired hand." Brightened, then, with hope and calmly confident, he sets out on his journey home. 

The father sees his younger son coming up the road from along a long way off and, rejoicing, runs out to meet and welcome him. The father orders that a feast and celebration be held: for his once lost son has been found. 

Later during the feast, the elder son (who remained home all this time) approaches the father to ask why, he, the loyal, elder son, has never been so honored. The father doesn't "skip a beat." He simply explains to his elder son the joy he feels at the return of the prodigal, younger son.

Commentary: The context for this beautiful story takes place when Jesus incurs the criticism of religious elders who disdainfully note that Jesus is spending time in the company of lower caste sinners. 

In response to their critique, Jesus tells this prodigal son story, plus two other similar stories. Jesus explains to his audience (and therefore to his critics) that his work (ministry) is to bring home the "lost sheep." So, what does this story mean to us, metaphorically: 

The father symbolizes God the Father. His sons are, of course, ourselves: God's children! As per the story, then, we begin our existence and our life in our father's home. God's home isn't merely the beautiful astral heaven we hear about, but the true heaven of God-consciousness: bliss eternal. 

This beginning echoes the story of Adam and Eve in Genesis. They, too, began existence in a state of perfect harmony with God. This true home isn't a paradisaical place on earth (between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers!) but the the paradise of purity and inner peace. According to the story, then, either our first existence or our present life began in the company (consciousness) of God. 

Since most of us dimly know that our present lives did not begin in God's bliss, we must conclude that in its echo of Genesis, the correct interpretation would be that this story refers to our first appearance on the stage of existence. Like Adam and Eve, the story implies that we, too, must have made the obvious poorer choice long ago. Present, and likely intervening incarnations, must therefore reflect the consequences of that (and many other) choice(s). 

Inasmuch as our story is a metaphor, we would interpret the "wealth" demanded by the younger son as a symbol for the legacy of God's bliss and wisdom that is or was ours as a child of God. 

Similarly, then, the "foreign" land is that state of consciousness that chooses the lures of matter over the bliss of our home in God. That it is "foreign" to us affirms our true nature as a child of God.

We dissipate the wealth of divine bliss by investing our life energy and creativity in material and sensory experiences and possessions. Only belatedly do we discover that inert things and fleeting sensory impulses can never return to us even a fraction of what we give to them (by way of expectations and our commitment of energy). In short, our poor choice of investment, like gambling, ultimately depletes our treasury of life vitality and joy. Like Yudisthira in the Mahabharata, we gamble the kingdom of soul bliss on a course of "dead reckoning" that leads into the rocks of disillusionment and suffering.

The famine experienced by the younger son comes after he has exhausted his wealth. Deprived even of the pitiful pleasures of material existence, he begins to feel the deeper hunger that occurs when our divine vitality is exhausted, for it can only be replenished by virtue and God-contact.

Having to feed swine (swine, in Biblical and Jewish terms, being unclean) represents the disgust and disillusionment that accompanies addictive sense habits even when they no longer bring us any satisfaction. This gives rise to despair for the fact that we have lost all sense of self-respect, groveling in the mud of delusion with soul-numbing repetition.

Sometimes we have to hit bottom before God's grace reaches out to us in a flash of soul-memory (smriti). Then we suddenly recollect (intuitively) our former life in our Father's home. There we were perfectly happy in the peace and joy of the soul, basking in the light of the Father's presence. It is then that we cognize the truth of the errors we have made. It is then that we seek atonement for the "light of truth has dawned."

That flash memory silently whispers to us that, "Yes, but I CAN return." The sudden flood of light brings energy and hope to our heart. Fired up by this intuitive expectation of redemption, we begin taking our first steps back to our home in God. We can only return by taking steps in the right direction of virtue, cleanliness, and commitment to righteousness.

But in fact and in truth, we don't have to wait until we hit "bottom." Alternatively, we each have our own version of what constitutes "bottom." Either way, the choice of return always remains ours. We can, at any time, make that choice and begin that journey.

In this beautiful story, Jesus assures us that God will welcome us as his very own, his beloved son, like Jesus himself.

The elder son who complains of the welcome received by his younger brother represents those people who only conform to the outer rules of religion but who lack the love and acceptance of God and inwardly judge others. I suspect this part of the story was a poke at Jesus' critics.

In this story there is no mention of eternal damnation. But the teaching of God's eternal love, forever ours is clear. 


How many people in their hearts carry the regrets and guilt of past error? How many people have lost a child, a parent, a friend, or partner and suffer the emptiness of grief and loss? How many adopted children wonder and yearn for the love of the unknown parent?

Whatever our loss or guilt, we yearn for completion; for redemption; to be made whole, or clean, once again. Whatever our loss there remains deep within us not just the mere hope but the conviction that we can be, must be, made whole.

The greatest story ever told is of the redemption of the soul in the embrace of God's love. No other only human redemption can suffice. Mostly such wholeness is impossible in merely human terms. For who can bring a loved one back to life, erase suffering that has been inflicted, or resurrect health which has been destroyed?

Even when life provides a "happy ending," it is, ultimately, all too brief, and all too often, even, an illusion all together.

In God alone can we find true love, forgiveness, acceptance, and the rejoicing of true joy.

The prodigal son is the greatest story ever told because it is the story of each and every one of us. Let us learn its lesson sooner rather than later.

Joy to you,

Swami Hrimananda

Why Me? Reflections of mortality and Kriya Yoga

Why Me?

Who has not wondered “Why me” when destiny casts a shadow across the path of one’s life? Even without the extremes of human suffering and tragedy, there are the disappointments, heartbreaks, and disillusionments experienced by most people.

After whatever initial response is required in the moment, the first question too often asked is “Why?” Ironically, it’s the most difficult question to answer with any certainty. Even if there may be a specific answer, it generally won’t come until we’ve had some psychic distance (usually in time and space).

 The “why” question can sometimes be a manifestation of the stage of denial because stopping to ponder, doubt, rail in anger and to contemplate this question paralyzes taking action and positive steps. (This isn’t always true because in the infinite variety of human circumstances and consciousness there’s virtually nothing that’s always!)

Nonetheless the hurt expressed in the question (and it is a question I hear often) postpones the inevitable and necessary stages of acceptance and redemption. As a teacher of metaphysical concepts in the lineage of raja yoga, the question of “Why has God created us (or this world, or suffering, or . . . . ) is a constant feature on the landscape of my daily life.

Paramhansa Yogananda, author of “Autobiography of a Yogi,” responded to such questions in various ways but one of those responses was “You will know when you will know.” He would counter that the more practical question is “What can do I about it?” On other occasions he would comment that when we achieve our true destiny (oneness with the “Father”), He will reveal all to us and we, like others who have gone before us, will say, “What a wonderful show — the greatest story ever told!”

An example Yogananda would give in this vein was to point out how when reading a novel, play or watching a great classic movie we might laugh and cry with comedy and tragedy, and then, leaving the theatre or putting down the book, we say: “That was a great story. I learned so much!” But, he would point out, how few of us can look at our own life with such a perspective? Are we not simply one out of billions (and billions who have ever walked this one planet, earth)? Even if every life is unique, do we not share essentially the same hopes, dreams, and tragedies, at least relative to our own frame of reference? Are not the crises of last year, last month, or yesterday, all but forgotten today? Yes, but . . . .

And so it is that the human heart, when broken, needs time to heal and time to find perspective. Yogananda once wrote that “the drama of life has for its lesson that it is simply that: a drama.”

But why do we suffer? I mean: in time, we can usually let a hurt go, cant’ we? The pain, at least, subsides, doesn’t it? If we can recover later, why not sooner? But why don’t we?

An animal may suffer but to a large and observable degree not as much as we. A child raised in a wealthy home with comforts will suffer more from a physical injury than the toughened street-wise kid or farmer’s child. Ironically, however, it may be true that the less self-aware we are the less we suffer, but suffering serves as an incentive to probe into the source of our suffering and to search for how to relieve or not repeat it. The street kid or farmer is less likely to go on in life in response to his suffering and do something about it, whether for himself or perhaps for others, or simply in a creative response to a setback, he may accomplish something worthwhile. It is an axiom of modern culture that the artist, writer, scientist, or saint is spurred to his particular form of creative genius by overcoming setbacks or tragedy early in life.

There appears to be in every form of consciousness (but let’s stick with our own, human awareness, for now) a innate impulse to avoid suffering and to seek happiness. This easily verified tendency is directional. It is relative. For one person, this aspect of human consciousness relates the sensory level of pleasure and pain, acquired through food, sex, comforts, survival, and self-defense. For others it takes the form of long-term, delayed gratification: seeking an education, to be successful in business, career, family, or health, or to achieve name and fame, respect, and money. Subtler still would be the inner drive to create beauty, to bring healing to others, to be a peacemaker, problem solver, protector or to accomplish worthwhile goals on a large(r) scale than one's own needs. The spiritual seeker or devotee epitomizes perhaps the most subtle, most elevated human striving, directionally: avoiding the pain of ignorance and delusion and seeking the joy of God.

Thus we, at last, come to my real topic: the promise of the scriptures; the promise of immortality; and the message of saints and sages in all ages. This grand creation of billions of galaxies and our own individual birth and existence is royally endowed with an impulse that goes far beyond mere survival and procreation (whose necessity and usefulness is readily admitted). It is the impulse towards greater consciousness; a dawning self-awareness; and, ultimately, the attainment of untrammeled happiness, unending existence, and knowledge that knows no bounds. In short we seek bliss, immortality, and omniscience.

[The evolutionary biologist observes the instincts of survival and procreation but cannot explain the “why?” Surely lower life forms, and, indeed, humans for that matter, don’t trouble themselves to think in terms of their genes dominating the gene pool for generations to come! To say that we seek to survive is, at its most basic level, a value judgment that exceeds the proper inquiry of science itself! The strictly rational scientist cannot truly say that it is better to survive than not to survive. He can only say that it appears, generally, to be a fact. Besides, another, equally important and unalterable fact is that we don’t survive anyway. Death comes to all beings! Seems, therefore, like plants, animals and humans are being, well, irrational!]

Who planted this seed of striving  into our bosom? Could it be the same One who has dreamed us into existence? The dogma-bound materialist must turn his back to us and walk away, but you and I are under no such compulsion. The rishis tell us that as all creation is a manifestation of consciousness (sparks of the Infinite Consciousness, the only reality that truly IS), so we partake of the intelligence, the impulse, the deeper-than-conscious knowing that perfection (bliss, immortality, omniscience) is our native land.

But like the prodigal son in the famous story told by Jesus Christ, we have long wandered in foreign lands of matter attachment. It takes the famine of unhappiness to drive us inward and towards the remembrance of how we once lived in our Father’s prosperous home. This beautiful and poignant story — so familiar and so natural to the human heart — dispels all notion of a vengeful God, ready to cast our souls into the eternal fires of hell. The corollary to this grand vision of life’s purpose must be the one fact that makes it all work: reincarnation!

Hell there certainly is, no doubt about it. We don’t need to die to experience it, either. Look around you. Genocide, suicide, depression, insanity, war, famine and plague! Look within you!  The hell of anger, addictions, compelling desires and lusts which can never be quenched and which burn us with their fevers. So, too, the hell of violence which causes unending cycles of abuse, generation after generation. There is, even, we are told, hellish astral regions where souls whose lives on earth were evil, dark or selfish sojourn until their next incarnation.

But the masters come into every age with a message of glad tidings and good news. We are not that sinful, broken, and hurting creature. We are not the body, the personality, our past, our hurts, our desires — we are a child of God. We princes who are dreaming we are paupers. We need first to desire an end to the cycle of birth, death, pleasure and pain! Then we must be blessed by an awakening in order to remember our birthright; then we must summon the will, humility, and courage to begin the journey, long or short, back to our home in God: in our own Self.

Kriya yoga has been resurrected from priestly secrecy and human indifference in response to souls crying in the wilderness and tired of sectarianism, mere beliefs, and religious rivalries. “The time for knowing God has come!” Paramhansa Yogananda declared.

Calmness, meditation, introspection, good works, devotion to the Supreme Lord, and attunement to the Guru who is sent for our salvation: these are the keys to the kingdom, to the secret garden of our own heart. Kriya yoga is an efficacious accelerator of inner awakening. The time is now!

Blessings,

Nayaswami Hriman

The Prodigal Son Returns!

The story told by Jesus in the New Testament of the prodigal son who returns to and is welcomed back home by his father is one of the most inspiring allegories of the scriptures of east and west.

Where in this story is there any hint of eternal damnation? Is not error, ignorance, and self-destructive attitudes and behaviors hell enough? How many millions suffer from poverty, addictions, abuse, disease, and exploitation? Hell, who needs hell? It can be right here in our own hearts and minds! Besides, when you are truly in the midst of suffering, does it not SEEM like it will never end?

Are WE the cause of our suffering? How can we explain the suffering of a child? The annihilation of an entire culture? Is life itself to blame? Is suffering just built into the matrix of life? Is it God who punishes us? If so, do we deserve it or is God capricious?

These are among the great questions of life, to be sure. Just as only a handful of people in this world can truly comprehend the grand mysteries of science such as string theory, quantum physics, relativity, and the time-space continuum, so too only a few great souls truly grasp the grand mysteries of our human experience. Who, among millions who use computers or cell phones, truly understand the inner workings of even these (now) mundane devices we so depend upon?

The pearl of life's wisdom is not sold cheaply in the marketplace of bookshops but is only found, hard-won, in even-mindedness and calmness on the threshing floor of daily life and in the hermitage of inner silence.

Why, then, should we be surprised if the great drama of life is veiled and seems to us a mystery, an enigma? Paramhansa Yogananda was once asked about a possible "short-cut" to wisdom. He smiled and replied that such a short-cut would make it too easy and that God has so veiled the truth that we might seek Him for his love, not merely his wisdom. Besides, he quipped, most people, if given a chance to talk to God, would only argue.

He went on to say God HAS everything; God IS everything. He "lacks" only our love, our personal interest, and our attention. Most humans on this planet wouldn't have it any other way, so engrossed in the pursuit of life, liberty, pleasure, and human happiness are they.

Yet, like the prodigal son, when the famine of disappointment or disatisfaction strikes again (whether clothed as material success, or, failure) and we gnash our teeth in despair at the thought of the anguishing monotony of continued rebirth, and we look heavenward (inward) for the truth that can make us free.......then the dawn of wisdom appears in the eastern sky.

You see, until we have stepped out of the drama, we cannot see the drama for what it really is: a drama. Caught up in our roles, we cannot see that both the villain and the good guy are but actors. It's true that the villain is slain and the hero victorious but even that doesn't necessarily appear so from the outside looking in. We cannot see the cause of our suffering or the seeming whimsey of success as but part of the drama and our likes and dislikes of it all as the result of our identification with it.

But there is a way out. Someone once said, "The only way OUT is IN!" Indeed! The story of prodigal son describes the pathway home.

Turning now to the story itself in the New Testament, at first, famished as our souls become for kernels of wisdom, we take apprenticeship with spiritual teachers, teachings, and practices; in this process, we may be asked to feed others who are even more needy than we (the "swine" in the story). Then, as the Bible describes, we "come to ourself" and remember the happiness (bliss) we once knew in our Father's home.

Then, armed with that remembrance, we begin our journey, retracing our steps homeward. In what direction do those steps lead? As Jesus put it elsewhere: "The kingdom of heaven is within you." Thus he, a great yogi, counsels as does Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita, the inner path of meditation.

The door the leads to "heaven" are the doorways of the subtle (astral) spine known as the chakras. These lead to the inner kingdom which, in turn, leads us to our home in God's eternal presence. Kriya yoga is an advanced technique of meditation that is aptly described as the key to these doorways. It is designed to accelerate our inner path and ability to become sensitive to this inner world of energy and consciousness. This is the "stuff" of the higher worlds from which the material world appears and is sustained.

We retrace our steps in a way not unlike reversing the process of birth, or, as is often said, becoming "born again." Not physically of course, but energetically. We become baptised in this inner spine of energy and divine consciousness. The rest of this description is the teaching of raja yoga training and need not be dwelled upon here.

Be ye of good cheer, for the good news (paraphrasing Christian vocabulary) is that the keys to the inner kingdom have been given. Meditation is for everyone and kriya yoga unlocks the power to be free.

Blessings to all! Hriman