Part 3 – Our Respective
Narratives
Setting aside any residual feelings between Ananda members and SRF
monastics for the battles we once waged against each other, I can understand how
card-carrying SRF members might be treated differently from the general public.
Members would be disciples; disciples would come on pilgrimage, treating these
places as sacred ground, attuning themselves to the vibrations of the guru. Thus
the impulse to create and validate membership credentials would arise
naturally. And, once a visitor presented his credentials, he might be welcomed
more warmly than the many casual visitors.
Even if there had not been a long, drawn out lawsuit or preceding
years of SRF displeasure, Ananda members would occupy some kind of middle
ground between SRF members and the general public. But given the simple fact of
Ananda not being a part of SRF and the reality that Swamiji and Ananda were
viewed akin to apostates, it is not surprising that for decades Ananda members who
visited these shrines encountered from the hosting monastics mixed and confused
signals ranging from welcome to disdain.
Most younger monastics, having little knowledge of or interest in Ananda,
or any personal animus toward Swami Kriyananda (whom they never knew), were at
least cordial if not welcoming. (If they knew anything at all it would have
been presumably negative.)
So, you see: quite apart from our particular and specific challenges
with each other, we would have been grouped primarily with the general and
unknowing (and “heathen”) general public! Polite, yes…..but….
This idea of Ananda members being “neither fish nor fowl” played
itself out in our recent visit. Our hosts were friendly and warm and, as is
natural and their training as docents, shared stories of the history of the
property we were visiting and stories of Master and his disciples. What they
presumably did not know was that the stories (even some of the historical
anecdotes) were as well known to us (from Swami Kriyananda) as to them. In some
cases they were likely repeating stories told them by others who were much more
distant in time from the occurrence of those stories than Kriyananda was (who
personally knew Master and heard many stories from him, first hand).
The experience was both surreal and disconnecting. We of course
appreciated their sincerity and presumed their innocence but whereas other
visitors would be naturally appreciative of the effort, we couldn’t help feel
distanced for it made our discipleship invisible (or, worse case, considered of
no value).
Another facet of these stories is a distinction we have found commonplace
between SRF monastics and Swamiji over many years, many visits, recordings, and
publications. Swami rarely told a story of Paramhansa Yogananda that didn’t
convey a spiritual lesson applicable not only to himself but to his audience.
By contrast, the stories we heard on our tour, apart from the
merely historical ones, portrayed the guru as sweet, charming or otherwise being
very human or relating in a human way to his close disciples. The lesson of
such stories was at least as much the message that those direct disciples were
greatly blessed as how charming or sweet the Master was. But no lesson — useful
to us — accompanied the story.
This, too, hints at an even deeper distinction (though not an
absolute one) between SRF and Ananda. It has to do with the extent each has
inherited a view of Yogananda as either unique or as timeless; as personal or
as universal.
The narrative goes something like this: Swami Kriyananda came to Paramhansa
Yogananda as a young man, age 22. The other close disciples had, in the case of
SRF’s leaders, been with the Master many more years, meeting him not only when
they, too, were young but when Master himself was much younger and in a
different phase of life. Charming, gracious, a powerful orator, and mixing affably
with the low and the high of society…...
It is not surprising that the early and close disciples related to
their guru in a more personal manner. Think what they went through together;
how small was their group; how personal and particular was the form of service
they rendered to him (cooking, cleaning, paying bills, etc.) living in close
quarters. None of these were appointed as public teachers as Master was the
guru. (Who could possibly represent him adequately!) With few exceptions, he
appointed men to public roles and with few exceptions these men betrayed him by
taking pride in their roles and even competing with their guru for attention.
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