Kriyananda with Yogananda | Swami Kriyananda was one of SRF’s most beloved ministers and public speakers. Abruptly, without a hearing, he was dismissed from the organization he loved. Harrassment continues to the present with personal attacks and a long-running lawsuit by SRF. His story is shared on the web for the first time. |
My Separation from Self-Realization Fellowship
by Swami Kriyananda
(J. Donald Walters)
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People have often asked me the reason for my separation from Self-Realization Fellowship. It has never been easy for me to share this story-not because it embarrasses me to tell it, but because it presents my Guru’s work misleadingly: in a political context, rather than in its true, spiritual light. Ideally, the way to handle this subject would be to maintain silence about it.
Yet I have learned that on this issue the dictum of science applies, “Nature abhors a vacuum.” For lack of a satisfactory explanation, people have invented explanations of their own. And the rumors they’ve spread have done mischief, whereas the facts, presented impersonally, can shed light on certain trends that are, by now, in obvious need of clarification.
Sometimes I’ve confided to people, as fairly as I could, what really happened between me and SRF. Whenever I’ve done so, I’ve found that, far from turning them against Yogananda or the organization he founded, I’ve removed what had long been a hurt in their hearts, and a point of confusion. Thus, clarification has actually strengthened them in their loyalty.
In 1982 I put this account in writing and made it available to people. I later withdrew it, both at SRF’s request and because, for the time being, it had served its purpose.
Lately, however, the question has come up again, consequent upon a lawsuit that SRF initiated against me and Ananda over two years ago. Because the lawsuit was an attempt to prevent us from serving others in Master’s name, I feel that it is time people knew what actually happened between me and Self-Realization Fellowship.
Ananda Church members, especially, need to know why it happened, since those events in the early 1960s led to the founding, eventually, of Ananda.
I should begin by pointing out that there are two aspects to the story: an outer and an inner. Often, when we take an outward view of the things that happen in all our lives, we are not able to see any good reason for them. When, however, we look at them with inward vision, and from a standpoint of our own and of others’ spiritual development, we find cause for gratitude where, first, we may have discerned only tragedy.
The Background
Outwardly speaking, the protagonists in this piece were myself and another SRF director named Tara Mata. Tara was senior to me in the work-senior, in fact, to everyone at Mt. Washington, having come to Paramhansa Yogananda in 1924. She was also a woman of exceptionally strong personality. I always loved and admired her, and in many ways do so still. We represented, however, two opposite views of how the work should be developed. Each of us was, moreover, the leading proponent in SRF of his particular point of view.
To me, Master’s work meant reaching out to people with his message. It meant sharing his teachings with truth-thirsty souls everywhere; offering people the blessings of Kriya Yoga; displaying the relevancy of his message to the needs of this age; placing his mission within the larger context of religious history and the history of human thought. To me, the organization was a vehicle for this work; it did not define it.
Tara Mata took a more particular view of Master’s mission. It wasn’t that she didn’t see that he’d come with a universal message. For her, however, the people toward whom this message was directed were an abstraction. The message itself was what mattered. Moreover, since the teachings themselves are eternal, what commanded her immediate allegiance was the organization, Self-Realization Fellowship, as the vehicle for their promulgation.
Deeply devoted to Master, she sought, after his passing, to express her devotion by protecting Self-Realization Fellowship from what appeared in her eyes as people’s threat to the purity of his teachings. Tara was by nature, as Master described her, a complete hermit. Given her hermit’s lack of concern for human contact, it didn’t really matter to her whether people benefited from the teachings or not. What she cared about was how authoritatively the teachings were expressed, and how powerful a vehicle the organization could be made for their expression. She saw SRF’s priorities as centripetal-as demanding energy at the center; not as centrifugal-or, giving energy outward in service to others.
The job Master gave Tara to do was editing his writings. He never bestowed on her the responsibility for organizing his work; in fact, he urged that she be kept out of organizational activities, and away from involvement with people. The only aspect of the work that he placed in her charge was the Editorial Department.
Tara once said to me, referring to her procrastination in getting out Master’s unpublished works, “People have all the books they need anyway. It’s only their curiosity that makes them want more of his writings.” Thus, a number of his major works remained unedited during her lifetime, and have not been published to this day: his commentaries on the on the New Testament; on the Book of Revelation; on the Book of Genesis; and on the Yoga Sutras (the yoga aphorisms) of Patanjali. Forty years have passed since Paramhansa Yogananda left his body. The question naturally arises: When will these works ever appear?
Tara’s ability, then, to impose her will on the others derived not from any position she held in the organization (though she was a vice-president and on the Board of Directors), but from her years of seniority in the work, and above all from the sheer force of her personality. Though holding no formal position except over the Editorial Department, she behaved as though Master had given her the task of overseeing the entire work. She once wrote to me: “Salutations to the first vice-president of SRF, from the second SRF president.” It took me several readings of that note to realize that she hadn’t written, “from the second SRF vice-president.”
One of the policies she foisted on the organization was stated by her in these words: “We need a basic guideline for the work. In every decision before us, we must ask ourselves, “What is best for the work?’” This dictum might have worked, had her definition of “the work” been focused on the spiritual needs and well-being of its members. In her eyes, however, and therefore in the influence she exercised over others, it did not.
Again, Tara once said to me, “In an organization, no one has a right even to think except the members of the Board of Directors.” This concept also can be justified under certain circumstances-in army maneuvers, for instance, once the troops have been committed to a line of action. Even in armies, however, if they are run competently, initiative is encouraged.
By stressing unthinking obedience, Tara managed, over time, to direct SRF’s policies toward a spirit of contraction and control, and away from that expansive, charitable spirit which one normally expects from any spiritual organization, and especially from Master’s work. Paramhansa Yogananda, after all, had dedicated his life to expanding people’s hearts and consciousness.
Contraction vs. Expansion
It is not that a contractive spirit is always bad. In certain contexts, indeed, it is necessary, especially when there is danger of an organization’s losing its center-poise. No organization can survive if it is weak at its center. SRF, for example, must have the power to declare, “This is what Master taught, and that other is not.”
At the same time, SRF has no need for the power to turn such declarations into mandates. It is sufficient for any organization to be prepared to defend its statements reasonably. Disagreement, after all, is not always heretical; sometimes it is salutary. Where disagreement is not tolerated, there develops a tendency to treat one’s opponents in debate condescendingly. This is a sure sign of inner weakness, not of strength. Dogmatism betrays doubt; it is not a symptom of true faith.
Today we are living in the spring days of Master’s work. It is the hour in its history-with its new, vital, and vitally needed message-to emphasize expansion, and to support those who would help it toward this end. This is not the time to stamp into the ground the green shoots of new enthusiasm with excessive zeal for self-protection and control. The joy of new discovery needs to be accepted as one of the greatest assets Yogananda’s mission can have.
In this, SRF and Ananda, dedicated as they both are to serving Master’s mission, might be compared to the apostles Peter and Paul. Both were committed to serving their Master’s work. Peter, however, and all those who supported him, were anxious to protect the mission from interpretations that, according to Jewish tradition, were unorthodox. Paul, on the other hand, though himself a Jew, insisted that certain Jewish traditions were superficial, and didn’t represent Christ’s universal message. Those traditions, Paul argued, needed to be adapted to the cultures and the preconditioning of non-Jews, who, though receptive to the message of Jesus, had been raised in quite different traditions. In many ways there are strong similarities between the conflict that arose between Peter and Paul and that which exists between SRF and Ananda.
SRF’s is a missionary work, in the sense that it sends out ministers to lecture, mails lessons to students around the world, and seeks to acquaint people with its teachings. At the same time, it is not a missionary work in the sense that it genuinely ministers to people’s needs. Under Tara’s tutelage, SRF’s mind-set became to declare, “This is what we have to offer; take it or leave it.” Less and less, since Tara’s day, do its representatives listen sensitively to the questions of others, and address people’s doubts sympathetically and with respect. Disrespect for the opinions and perplexities of others is the most salient characteristic of a contractive outlook. Over time, it can harden into condescension, even contempt, toward anyone who fails to embrace the official line.
SRF-again, under Tara’s influence-has become contractive in the sense that it discourages thoughtful application of the teachings. All individual interpretation, indeed, is frowned upon lest it lead to the development of personality cults.
Ananda is expansive-not in the sense that it endorses egoic self-expression, as SRF claims, but rather in its concern for others. It is expansive in the sense that it encourages intelligent application of the teachings, as opposed to merely quoting from official texts.
Ananda is expansive in the respect its members are encouraged to show toward people on all levels of spiritual development. Its ministers seek to understand and appreciate where others are coming from, to address their special needs rather than state, “These are our teachings and our policies; adjust to them if you care to.”
The most salient characteristic of an expansive attitude is the attempt to relate to other people’s realities, while at the same time never forgetting to remain centered in one’s own.
The Christian Church owed its early growth partly to the willingness of its missionaries to adapt the outward expression of Christ’s teachings to their listeners. Thus we have in Christianity numerous traditions of non-Judaic origin: the Christmas tree; the crèche, which originated in the Thirteenth Century with St. Francis of Assisi; more amusingly, the Easter Bunny; even, probably, Christmas itself. All of these customs helped, in varying degrees, to make the teachings of Jesus more meaningful to people of different cultures. At the same time, the early missionaries maintained their fidelity to the essential teachings of Jesus, at least as they were able to understand them.
An expansive philosophy need not concern itself with hustling, or with proselytizing. Ideally, it should concern itself primarily with serving people, with reaching them where they are, as opposed to pontificating to them. An expansive philosophy inspires a person happily to sacrifice his own convenience, even himself, for the spiritual benefit of others. It makes him willing even to delay his own salvation in this cause. An expansive philosophy was what Ramanuja, the great Indian saint, displayed when he risked hell itself to bring salvation to thousands.
The Need for Balance
There is, I imagine, in every sincere seeker a conflict between the desire for solitude in God, and the desire to serve and help others. I myself faced this dilemma during the early years of my discipleship. Finally I accepted the fact that, since Master had told me to balance meditation with outward service (he added, “Your life is one of intense activity, and meditation”), the right path for me in this lifetime must be to embrace expansion outwardly, through service to others, as well as inwardly, in consciousness.
Paramhansa Yogananda, too, faced this dilemma in his youth. From early childhood he had had a persistent desire to run away to the Himalayas. But his guru, Sri Yukteswar, insisted that he prepare himself to be sent to the West as India’s spiritual ambassador.
Lahiri Mahasaya, Sri Yukteswar’s guru, faced this dilemma also, after his initiation into Kriya Yoga in the Himalayas. He had assumed that he would be spending the rest of his life with his guru, Babaji, meditating. Babaji told him, instead, to resume his householder life in Benares and there, through his disciples, to reach out to the world with the Kriya Yoga message.
Churches are often faced with the problem that they might forget God as they become absorbed in outward activities. A world-wide church, if it is to remain spiritually strong, needs, in addition to places of outward activity, to create places where those who so desire can follow a reclusive way of life.
The Roman Catholic Church is generally identified in the public mind with churches, schools, and other outward activities. At the same time, it also has cloistered orders-the Trappists, for example, and the Carmelites-where monks and nuns live more inwardly focused lives, where prayer is more strongly emphasized, and where self-effacement is practiced through perfect obedience to one’s superior.
The Catholic Church itself, however, could never have become a worldwide organization, had the responsibility for spreading its message been left to its reclusive orders. This doesn’t mean that a cloistered order is not, in its own way, a wonderful thing. It only means that a centripetal emphasis would never have inspired the vision necessary to build a global organization, responsible for guiding men and women everywhere in the spiritual life.
SRF Resembles a Cloistered Order
SRF, despite its missionary activities, resembles a cloistered order in the sense that the prevailing “mood,” or mind-set, at its center is one of withdrawal from the world. There is a strong focus on the rule, and on self-effacement through strict obedience. Obedience is seen as the path to self-transcendence, as opposed to joyous affirmation of the divine Self within-that Self which dwells in the hearts of all creatures. Emphasis in the SRF monasteries is placed on surrendering personal will to one’s superior, as though projecting onto him (or her) one’s own sense of selfhood. Inevitably, such an atmosphere stifles individual initiative. And without initiative, a world-wide mission will never get off the ground.
I should emphasize once again that my own view is not exclusive. It is not “either ... or.” I do not hold that SRF’s view is wrong; merely that it is one-sided, and that much more is needed than this centripetal, or cloistered-order, approach if Master’s message is to get out to the world.
The Pros and Cons of Obedience
Obedience to a wise superior is good for a person’s spiritual development. It is also necessary, to a degree, for the smooth functioning of any organization. Master said, however, that total obedience, unless given to an enlightened guru, can also weaken the will power. Obedience should be seen as an apprenticeship in wisdom. A true guru’s primary concern is for the disciple’s welfare. Only secondarily is it for the welfare of his organization.
The typical concern of the average superior in a monastery, on the other hand, is for the organization’s well-being, and only secondarily for the well-being of the individual. Obedience to an unenlightened superior, when it conflicts with the spiritual needs of the individual, and prevents him from developing his own inner strength and discrimination, has a weakening effect on his will power.
In this context, obedience tends also to foster a climate of fear: fear of disapproval from above; fear of “getting out of tune”; fear of expressing any opinion or making any suggestion that is not certain to reflect the prevailing policy.
Humility, in such a setting-partly because it is forced instead of being allowed to flower naturally-generates all too easily a sense of personal unworthiness, even of guilt. Spirituality becomes defined, then, in terms of position in the organization. The higher the position, the more spiritual one is assumed to be. Thus, the monks and nuns in subordinate positions tend to think, “I am unworthy compared to my superiors. They alone know what is right.” Because such extreme emphasis is placed on humility, those most likely to rise in the organization are not the humble ones (who, if possible, shrink from outward advancement), but the egotists (who embrace it).
It is second nature for the egotist to rise by obedience. Lacking true humility, he lacks also its corollary: perfect self-honesty. The typical superior in a contractive organization is attracted to such subordinates for this very lack, because his own authority, being total, tends sometimes to be burdensome to him; he cannot always exercise it with complete self-assurance. Insecure in himself, therefore, he feels uneasy when confronted with too much candid self-honesty in those below him. It is tempting for him to be gratified when a subordinate gives him enthusiastic and unquestioning support. He may prefer not to question the sincerity of this support, for he needs it to bolster his own self-confidence. The monk or nun who gives it to him, and to the other superiors, will rise in the organization like gas to the surface of a pond.
These trends are encountered far less in organizations where the spirit is expansive. For true humility means not only negative self-effacement, nor only neutral self-honesty, but also positive absorption of the little self in a greater reality. When the spirit of any group is expansive-in the right, non-egoic sense-people’s energy becomes focused on the things that are being done rather than on the individuals who are doing them. Self-promotion, in such an environment, stands out like a badly tuned instrument in a chamber orchestra, lacking as it does the support of others’ insecurity, which might cause them to wonder whether this is not some superior being before whom they ought to tremble.
Master’s Commissions to Me
Who am I (the reader may ask) to state my opinions in these matters so boldly? I think the point, rather, is whether the opinions themselves have any merit. There can be no question of presumption, if a person states the truth honestly as he sees it. Certainly I am willing to be proved wrong, and will gladly admit the error if it can be demonstrated against me. Who I am doesn’t really enter the picture.
Nevertheless, for those who feel a need to know a person’s credentials before they’ll consent to listen to him, I think I may claim a certain objective right to my own views. Master himself made me a minister, and appointed me to initiate people into Kriya Yoga. He put me in charge of the other monks when I was twenty-three. (Never, I might add, did I demand obedience of anyone under me. All I ever asked of my subordinates was their cooperation.) Master also told me on several occasions, speaking personally and with considerable emphasis, “You have a great work to do.” (Obviously, his intention was not to flatter me, but to get me to take seriously my share of the responsibility for spreading his work.) For years I was also the director of SRF center activities, and in time became the chief minister in SRF. Later, I was appointed to the Board of Directors and was made SRF’s first vice-president. Thus, it may be said that I have as much right as most others to voice my views on the best ways to spread Master’s work.
SRF now claims that I never even spent time with Master, except as part of a group of disciples or of a church congregation. My book, The Path, certainly tells a different story. In fact, I spent a fair amount of time with him privately, and lived with him as a disciple longer than the disciples of Jesus got to live with their Master. Very few of those among Master’s disciples who are still living today were with him longer than I. Indeed, among his present-day followers only a very small minority knew him at all. (Not that this lack of outward contact has deprived the others, spiritually. St. Paul, remember, never knew Jesus, either.)
SRF now speaks of Master’s “blueprint for the work.” In fact, Master himself referred to it as God’s blueprint. It was written, he said, “in the ether, in the spirit of God.” He gave us verbal guidelines, but from their general lack of detail it was obvious that he intended for us to exercise our own intuition in implementing them. During the years that I was in SRF after Master’s passing, various disciples offered suggestions for the growth of the work. Never did I hear those suggestions denounced by anyone in charge as being “out of tune with the blueprint,” or discouraged with the reply, “We have Master’s blueprint in our keeping; your suggestions are not needed.” The only objection I myself encountered had to do with the sheer number of my ideas, and with certain people’s judgment of them as impractical. (The judgment was not so much of the ideas themselves as it was in favor of a less expansive philosophy.)
Tara’s and My Conflicting Beliefs for the Work
I always knew that Tara and I would clash someday. Our beliefs regarding what was best for the work were incompatible. To her, the mere suggestion that anyone could possibly know more than she in organizational matters was, simply, presumptuous. To me, any claim that understanding in such matters can be absolute represented the very sort of thought-suppression that must lead, eventually, to paralysis in the work.
The clash, when it came, took place while I was in India-a safe twelve thousand miles from California! Distance constrained me, and left me powerless to defend myself.
Surely there was some divine reason why things turned out as they did. Was it because Master wanted to preserve the work from my heretical influence? I prefer, naturally, to think things turned out as they did because he wanted to free me for the work he had planned for me. In fact, subsequent developments support this point of view. I’ve been able to serve his mission as I was convinced it needed to be served, along lines necessary for reaching people on all levels of understanding with his liberating message.
SRF, defining his mission in a narrow, organizational sense, sees me as a traitor to that mission. I, on the other hand, see myself as totally committed to it. I also feel deeply loyal to my brother and sister disciples. Indeed, this loyalty seems amply demonstrated by the fact that it hasn’t wavered through thirty years of determined effort on their part to discredit me.
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