BEWARE THE MESSENGER
Watch out for certain spiritual messengers, teachers. They become the message rather than the message being the message.
A good example of this is Alan Watts. Watts never professed to be a guru, although many considered him one. "I have nothing to sell," he always said. "I am a metaphysical entertainer." A clergyman in the Episcopal church early in his career, then an academic, then a prolific author, and a lecturer, he had a tremendous influence on all who would hear him. The trouble was, he left everyone feeling shortchanged somehow. Something was missing. He was not missing, but something about him was.
Another instance is Ram Dass. Born Richard Alpert in 1931, he went on to earn a doctorate in psychology and was subsequently a highly successful professor at Harvard. With Harvard's Timothy Leary he did much experimentation with LSD and other drugs, until finally he was relieved of his duties when the drug experimentation got out of hand. Alpert went on a spiritual quest to India after this, whereupon he adopted Vedanta and changed his name to Baba Ram Dass. His work as a spiritual teacher, however, felt exactly like his work as an academic. His knowledge of the details of Vedanta was, and is, exceptional, even as the messianic white robe and beard of his new identity betrayed him.
J. Krishnamurti was another one. He could give talks for hours, and he certainly had a large following. But it all felt hollow somehow. It was all just words, he was all just words.
What these three individuals have in common, and there are many other examples of this, is the absence of God. One never felt that there was a spiritual presence in them, or that they believed in God at all. Maybe they kept it hidden. It's as though they compensated for it by becoming gods, or godlike, themselves, not what it is supposed to be about. The messenger is not what it's about.
A good example of this is Alan Watts. Watts never professed to be a guru, although many considered him one. "I have nothing to sell," he always said. "I am a metaphysical entertainer." A clergyman in the Episcopal church early in his career, then an academic, then a prolific author, and a lecturer, he had a tremendous influence on all who would hear him. The trouble was, he left everyone feeling shortchanged somehow. Something was missing. He was not missing, but something about him was.
Another instance is Ram Dass. Born Richard Alpert in 1931, he went on to earn a doctorate in psychology and was subsequently a highly successful professor at Harvard. With Harvard's Timothy Leary he did much experimentation with LSD and other drugs, until finally he was relieved of his duties when the drug experimentation got out of hand. Alpert went on a spiritual quest to India after this, whereupon he adopted Vedanta and changed his name to Baba Ram Dass. His work as a spiritual teacher, however, felt exactly like his work as an academic. His knowledge of the details of Vedanta was, and is, exceptional, even as the messianic white robe and beard of his new identity betrayed him.
J. Krishnamurti was another one. He could give talks for hours, and he certainly had a large following. But it all felt hollow somehow. It was all just words, he was all just words.
What these three individuals have in common, and there are many other examples of this, is the absence of God. One never felt that there was a spiritual presence in them, or that they believed in God at all. Maybe they kept it hidden. It's as though they compensated for it by becoming gods, or godlike, themselves, not what it is supposed to be about. The messenger is not what it's about.
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