Friday, March 17, 2023

Who Was St. Patrick? Did he really drink green beer?

 Any account of such a person can be disputed or viewed differently, but I choose this account which I extracted from https://www.history.com/topics/st-patricks-day/who-was-saint-patrick 

St. Patrick Wasn't Irish


St. Patrick was born in Britain—not Ireland—to wealthy parents near the end of the fourth century. He is believed to have died on March 17, around 460 A.D.

Although his father was a Christian deacon, it has been suggested that he probably took on the role because of tax incentives and there is no evidence that Patrick came from a particularly religious family. 

At the age of 16, Patrick was taken prisoner by a group of Irish raiders who were attacking his family’s estate. They transported him to Ireland where he spent six years in captivity. (There is some dispute over where this captivity took place. Although many believe he was taken to live in Mount Slemish in County Antrim, it is more likely that he was held in County Mayo near Killala.) During this time, he worked as a shepherd, outdoors and away from people. Lonely and afraid, he turned to his religion for solace, becoming a devout Christian. (It is also believed that Patrick first began to dream of converting the Irish people to Christianity during his captivity.)

Early in the 5th century, an Irish ship beat against the waves along the western coast of Great Britain. On the far edge of the crumbling Roman Empire, a band of Irish marauders crept into a secluded cove and raided the village of Bannavem Taburniae.

Among the plunder captured by the band of warriors dispatched by Ireland’s King Niall of the Nine Hostages was a 16-year-old boy named Succat. Although brought to Ireland against his will, the teenager would go on to become Ireland’s patron saint. St. Patrick may have been a foreigner who arrived in Ireland in the hold of a pagan king’s slave ship, but he would become synonymous with the island itself.

Established facts about Patrick’s youth are few, and much of what is known comes from the saint himself in his short autobiography, the Confessio. According to the traditional narrative, Patrick was born into a well-to-do family around 386 A.D. and grew up along Great Britain’s western coast, likely in Wales, which was part of the Roman Empire at the time. His father was a Christian deacon and a minor Roman official, his grandfather a priest.

The raid that tore him away from his family was not all that unusual in the early 5th century, says Philip Freeman, author of St. Patrick of Ireland: A Biography. “We know from a few other late Roman sources that the Irish had been raiding western Britain regularly for at least a century before Patrick was captured in the early 400s, just as the Saxons had been raiding in the east of Britain,” he says.


 One of the most horrifying features of the period is the wholesale enslavement of freemen and -women,” writes Thomas Cahill in How the Irish Saved Civilization. “In the slavery business, no tribe was fiercer or more feared than the Irish.” As Roman power waned, forays by Irish raiders grew more common. On a regular basis, they plundered animals and clothes and snatched children from their sleep in the middle of the night. They abducted young men to herd sheep and cows and young women to serve them.

Ripped from his home, Patrick herded sheep for a local chieftain on the slopes of Mount Slemish in County Antrim in the north of Ireland. Deprived of food and clothes, Patrick lived in virtual isolation. His only companions were his flock and his newfound faith. Amid the desolation, Patrick’s Christianity blossomed. He prayed as many as 100 times during the day—and matched that total at night.

Patrick wrote in the Confessio that six years into his captivity, an angel appeared in a dream and told him, “You have fasted well. Very soon you will return to your native country.” The angel told him of a ship leaving Ireland, and the young man walked across 200 miles of peat bogs and forests before arriving at a port, possibly Wexford, where he found a cargo ship bound for the European continent.

After the captain refused him passage, Patrick began to pray. Before he could finish, though, a sailor from the ship came shouting, “Come quickly – those men are calling you!” After learning that the captain changed his mind, Patrick sailed away from Ireland, believing that God’s protection must have been responsible for his unlikely escape. 

St. Patrick biographer Freeman says that although the escape was unusual, it likely occurred. “It would have been a harrowing and difficult journey, but we have stories of escaped slaves from elsewhere in the Roman world.”

In St. Patrick's telling in the Confessio, he almost died after his escape from slavery. After landing on the continent, the ship’s crew found itself wandering for weeks in a wilderness devoid of food and began to chastise Patrick for his piety. “What about this, Christian? You tell us that your God is great and all-powerful—why can’t you pray for us, since we’re in a bad state with hunger?” the starving sailors asked him. 

“Turn in faith with all your hearts to the Lord my God, because nothing is impossible for him,” replied the young man who led them in a prayer that appeared to be immediately answered when a stampede of pigs crossed their path. Patrick had his first converts.

Patrick eventually returned to his family in Great Britain. His parents begged him to never leave them again, but the religious visions returned and presented Patrick with a different plan. He heard the voice of the Irish call out, “We beg you, holy boy, to come and walk again among us.” After a period of religious training, he was ordained a deacon around 418 A.D. and in 432 A.D. consecrated as a bishop and given the name Patricius.

Although many formerly enslaved people would have dreaded a return to their place of captivity, Patrick asked for an assignment as a missionary to Ireland. When he returned to the pagan island, he tended to a different type of flock. Patrick’s knowledge of Ireland’s language and customs facilitated his work in converting and baptizing Druid priests, chieftains and aristocrats by the thousands before his death on March 17 in 461 A.D.


Monday, March 13, 2023

Music and Chanting at Ananda worldwide

Here at Ananda Sangha Seattle WA, we've been reading the published compilation of Swami Kriyananda’s letters of counsel in the book, "In Divine Friendship." Recently we got to the section of letters on chanting. Swami's "corrective" letter to the leaders of the Ananda communities on chanting in 1998 described the importance of melody in chanting and the importance of the new form of chanting given to us by Paramhansa Yogananda. Swamiji’s letter cautioned us on the overuse of chords, for example, or too much use of guitar with a strong rhythm and beat: forms of music with which we are accustomed from our upbringing in American culture. 

He also distinguished traditional Indian chants from the chants Yogananda has given us, urging us not to chant Indian chants "just because" they are from India but only if they have a uplifting melody and have the vibration of Self-realization. (By this I believe he meant chants of soul aspiration rather than just loud repetitions of divine names which have little, if any, significance to Americans.)

Chanting, he reminded us, should express the primordial AUM vibration and should encourage us to go inward towards silent communion with Aum because we are yogis and neither Hindus nor hymn-singing Christians.

The reaction from Ananda members and leaders prompted Swamiji to modify his statements in the realization that too drastic a change would likely backfire and could prompt unintended results: an atmosphere of dogmatism, for example, or stark but lackluster chanting.

These letters were from the late 90's and much music has flowed under the bridge of Ananda time since then. Our current expression of chanting seems generally, to most of us, to be a good balance between upbeat, rhythmic music that newer members can relate to, and solitary, aspirational and vibrational chants such as Master has given to us as yogis. We also sprinkle into our chanting chants from India that have an uplifting vibration and beautiful melody, chants which, by and large, Swamiji, too, enjoyed. (Sri Ram; Mahamantra; Aum namoh Bhagavate; Narayana Om; and so on.)

One of the members, a professional musician, wrote to me with a series of observations. I wrote back and then we met in person in an harmonious exchange.

The conversation was not so much about chanting as about music. One of the questions was the importance and the role of emotion in music, not just in popular music but hymns and chants everywhere in the world. Why, it was asked, did Swamiji seem to “put down” emotionalism in chanting? After all, what's wrong with emotion? Why does Swamiji seem to discourage it? (Yogananda certainly had sessions of high energy chanting, using the drum for example and encouraging others to feel the power and  "get into it!")

But not only was the question about the role of emotion raised but it was identified as a preference of Swami's rather a guiding principle.

Another question was whether or not Ananda members should play or sing other forms of music. After all, there are many deeply inspiring pieces, for example from Beethoven, Mozart, Bach and other composers.

So here is the written response (edited for general reading) that I would like to share with you:

 

Dear friend, this is a big subject for emails, but I will try to respond to your comments. First, let's not personalize this to Swami, as if we are comparing him with, say, Beethoven or Bach. It's not quite fair to simply write off his thoughts on music as his "preferences" as if the spiritual importance of chants or music is only a question of taste. Ordinarily, our preferences in music ARE a matter of personal taste.  Who doesn't like emotional music of one sort or another? The simple fact that we all enjoy music of various kinds doesn't enter the discussion when the discussion is focused on the spiritual practices of Self-realization.

In pre-covid times many of us would attend concerts and symphonies in and around Seattle. Padma and I just the other evening went to an Irish harp and storytelling performance in Seattle. Swamiji loved classical music of Mozart, Beethoven, Bach and others. He enjoyed and played traditional Indian chants as well.

But in his original chanting letter Swami Kriyananda was wanting to make a course correction away from some of the less yogic Indian chants and away from too much use of heavy Western style beat and chords. He explained that melody represents our soul’s aspiration; chords, emotion; and the beat, the ego.

He was wanting to uphold the aspirational yogic chanting that Paramhansa Yogananda gave to the world. Yogananda created a new genre of chants that are like affirmation put to melody. Mostly his chants are in English, the language of those to whom he was teaching. (He recognized that already in his lifetime English was becoming the “lingua franca” of the world.) But Swamiji’s counsel was not intended to be either-or, but rather, both-and.

But only comparing one form of music to another doesn't go deep enough into what Swami is saying. From the standpoint of soul consciousness, the goal is to transcend emotional states altogether. Consider the bedrock definition of the state of yoga given to us by Patanjali in the second verse of the Yoga Sutras: Yogas chitta vritti nirodha. (The state of “yoga” appears when the reactive mental and emotional processes of heart and mind are stilled.)

Emotionalism is therefore not a preference or a mere matter of taste. That can't, at least within the context of yoga teachings, be a subject of debate. Feeling is deeper than emotion. Feeling relates to the most elemental aspect of consciousness without which we are effectively comatose. True devotion is not emotion even if it starts with emotion.

The question then is: how should our public chanting be best employed to stay in tune with the vibration and goals of the path of Self-realization as Yogananda has given us?

Since you are in fact bringing up music, not really chanting, we find similarities nonetheless. Swami Kriyananda wrote over three hundred pieces of music: for voice, choir, instruments, ethnic, symphonic, and even an oratorio. Some are humorous; others light and tell a folk tale; some pieces echo themes from Japan, India, Egypt, Hawaii, Ireland, and Romania. But all have a message and the vibration of our soul’s memory.  That memory contains that element of divine consciousness we call ananda, or joy! All are inspired in one way or another by the vibration and message of Self-realization.

So, my friend, you ask whether Ananda would sponsor concerts of other music. In general, I don't think we want to go in that direction. And since you have asked, I don't think Ananda members AS members should be encouraged by Ananda’s leadership to gather to sing and perform other forms of music. It's not a question of permission, of course, but neither is it something I would want to endorse, except on specific occasions, for example, July 4th, Thanksgiving or other secular holidays or special occasions. Inasmuch as Ananda members live all over the world we mustn't be too strict in this regard.

Newer members, especially those with musical talents, would do well to deepen their attunement through the music we have (whether as singers or instrumentalists). We are so accustomed to choose music (and art in general) on the basis of what "I like or don't like." That is natural as it relates to our personal choices, but we generally don't realize the impact music (and art) has on our vibration and consciousness. And here we are discussing music that is endorsed and played in public settings at various Ananda functions like Sunday Service, satsangs, and holy days.

Swamiji was sensitive to the vibration of music, of people, and even of the consciousness of those who prepared his food. Music, as an outer expression of Aum, is especially important to our consciousness. Vibration is more than even imagery and far more than mere words or beliefs. Vibration is the first manifestation of God in the act of creation. It's not to say one genre of music is good and another bad in their artistic expression. It's rather a case that to the extent one is sensitive to vibration and is seeking divine a-tune-ment, it becomes a more important or serious question.

What other churches do for music is fine for them. But the vibration of both their music and their spiritual seeking is simply different. And what others do can be beautiful, positive, and enjoyable without necessarily being resonant with one's own spiritual path.

If Swamiji had not written a wide range of pieces (over 300), the question (or is it the answer?) would necessarily have to be very different. But he did and at Ananda we want to honor that fact as he himself encouraged us to do so. We do not wish to make rules about this, but we do want to be clear that focusing on the music that we’ve been given is a conscious choice we have made for the sake of our own attunement. It is, in fact, part of our sadhana (spiritual practice like meditation and service).

In divine friendship,