with the Supreme Self.
Also, the path of Jnana Yoga requires an intellect so pure, powerful, and intense that from the mere instruction of a self-realized teacher it can understand and accept the truth and become permanently established in it, free of duality. Such intellects are exceedingly rare. Understanding is easy, but what about remaining grounded in the truth even in moments of doubt, when one faces one’s inner demons?
For this reason the path of Jnana Yoga is considered fit for only a select few. As the ancient Vedic text the Samkhya Karika puts it, only those whose intellects are entirely free of erroneous cognition can attempt it.3 There are only a few Indians today who consider themselves fit for Jnana Yoga, and we may take this as a sign of the great humility and maturity of the Indian culture. On the other hand, many modern Western practitioners believe they deserve everything, including spiritual liberation, immediately and without having to give up anything. Thus they tend to view as a nuisance the preparations and qualifications that are asked of traditional Indian students.
Jnana Yoga was popularized mainly by the great Shankara, who lived some two thousand years ago.4 Shankara is considered a jagat guru (world teacher), a name given to rare teachers of high stature who appear every few centuries or once in a millennium to reinterpret the scriptures and restore their original meaning. This had become necessary in Shankara’s time; even though Jnana Yoga had been taught long before Shankara by rishis (seers) such as Vasishta, Yajnavalkya, and Vyasa, it was no longer understood properly because of changes in society and conventional language. Shankara wrote many great treatises and commentaries to present the ancient teachings again in their proper form. From today’s perspective, Shankara’s achievements look so gargantuan that many view him as a semi-divine or divine manifestation; in fact, he is often seen as a manifestation of the Lord Shiva himself.
In the twentieth century, Jnana Yoga was again popularized through the great example of Ramana Maharshi. Because Ramana was such an exceptional individual, he, too, was seen by many Indians as a divine manifestation — this time of Lord Skanda, the second son of Lord Shiva.
The ancient teacher Shankara and the modern teacher Ramana had many things in common. Both held that true knowledge (Jnana) can be attained only through Jnana Yoga. However, both taught that those who cannot attain Jnana directly — which includes all but a few individuals — can go through a possibly lengthy preparation period and emerge ready to undertake Jnana Yoga. This preparation could consist of either of the other two paths of yoga, Bhakti Yoga or Karma Yoga.
Bhakti Yoga
Bhakti Yoga is the path of devotion that grew out of that portion of the Veda that deals with worship (Upasana kanda). It is based on the realization that most people have an emotional constitution rather than the cool, abstract, intellectual one that lends itself to Jnana Yoga. Also, it accepts the fact that it is much more difficult to realize consciousness as the impersonal absolute (called nirguna Brahman, the formless Brahman) than to surrender to a divine form (called saguna Brahman, Brahman with form).
Bhakti Yoga’s path to freedom is reasonably direct but somewhat lengthier than that of Jnana Yoga. The term bhakti is created from the Sanskrit root bhaj, to divide. Unlike Jnana Yoga, which views the self of the individual and that of the Supreme Being as one and the same, Bhakti Yoga accepts the eternal division between the self of the devotee and the omnipotent self of the Supreme Being.
Our modern understanding of this difference in thought between these two branches of yoga originated from a teacher named Ramanuja. Many centuries after Shankara had brought about a renaissance of the ancient Vedic teaching, the essence of his teaching was again lost. Shankara had emphasized the complete identification of the individual self (atman) with the infinite consciousness (Brahman). Although this teaching is enshrined in the Upanishads, its opposite — the essential separation between atman and Brahman — is also enshrined. Some of Shankara’s followers, taking his teachings to the extreme, had started to portray them as merely an analytical, philosophical, and scholastic path that was bereft of devotion and of compassion for the toiling masses of the population. Ramanuja arose as a great new teacher who could correct this misconception and reconcile the two views. Ramanuja taught the beda-abeda doctrine, which means “identity in difference.” He agreed with Shankara that the individual self was consciousness and thus was identical with the Supreme Being. However, he added that the atman (individual self) was always limited in its power, knowledge, and capacity, whereas the Supreme Being (Brahman) was not, and in that regard atman and Brahman were different, hence the name “identity in difference.”
Since according to this view there is an eternal division between the individual self and the Supreme Being, Ramanuja held that the right way to approach the Infinite One was not through knowing but through the path of devotion called Bhakti Yoga. Taking this path, the followers of Ramanuja developed an intense love for and devotion toward the Supreme Being and its many divine manifestations.
Today, the Hare Krishna movement, as an example, claims that Bhakti Yoga is the fastest, safest, and most direct way to freedom. However, this path is not as simple as it appears at first sight. Bhakti Yoga will not lead you to freedom unless you practice it with utmost and total surrender, as teachers like Ramanuja have done. It is also not without danger. The danger consists of the fact that devotees may attach egoic notions to the form of the Supreme Being that they worship. They start to believe that their God is better or more divine, and that their devotion to this one true God makes them superior to others. They may even despise followers of other religions and view them as inferior. Sadly, this is far from what Bhakti Yoga at its outset desired to achieve.
Bhakti can work only if you can see the Lord, the Goddess, the infinite formless consciousness (Brahman) — whichever form of the Divine you worship — in every being you encounter as well as in your own heart. The Supreme Being is infinite consciousness, love, and intelligence; it is your divine core. Around this core, which is your true self, various layers such as ego, mind, and body crystallize and form the human being. Since the Supreme Being is undividable, we carry the wholeness of God in our hearts, and all of us are children of God. True Bhakti Yogis see all beings as their Lord and themselves as the servants of all beings. God is not in stone houses with stone images inside. Those houses and images may be helpful for the purpose of meditation, but true religion, true Bhakti, consists in worshiping the Divine in the hearts of all those we meet.
If you misunderstand Bhakti Yoga, you can believe that the Krishna you read about is more sacred and true than the Krishna in the heart of the being across from you. You may then conclude that this being is inferior because he or she worships the Supreme Being not in the form of Krishna but rather as Shiva, Allah, Jehovah, Yahweh, or some other deity. Certain devotees of the Lord Vishnu in India, for example, profess widespread contempt for the Lord Shiva, although the scriptures teach that Vishnu and Shiva are one and the same. A truly strange world this is. In cases such as this, the interest has shifted from recognizing the Supreme Being behind its manifold forms to taking pride in oneself based on the particular form that one’s own devotion takes.
Bhakti Yoga requires not only fervor but also the self-reflectiveness of a clear intellect. Otherwise the intensity of one’s experience of the Divine can easily lead one to be less compassionate toward others. Indian folklore is full of warnings of such erroneous views. For example, the learned Narada, a full-time attendant of the Supreme Being in the form of the Lord Vishnu, was once jealous of the Lord’s love of a particular peasant. Narada asked the Lord what was so special about this peasant who was pronouncing the Lord’s name only once per day, just before he fell asleep. The Lord asked Narada to fill a cup to the brim with oil and then carry it around his throne without spilling a drop. As Narada
