--- DICTIONARIES (in Dictionaries, in Quotes, in Chapters)

--- QUOTES [7 / 7 - 80 / 80] (in Dictionaries, in Quotes, in Chapters)

KEYS (10k)

   2 The Mother
   2 Kabir
   1 Pindar
   1 Hafiz
   1 Friedrich Nietzsche

NEW FULL DB (2.4M)

   4 Octavia E Butler

   4 Kabir

   4 Kabir
   4 Elie Wiesel

   2 The Mother
   2 Sri Chinmoy

   2 Herman Melville

   2 Hafiz
   2 Friedrich Nietzsche

   2 David Platt

   2 Chaim Potok

   2 Barbara Brown Taylor

1:Student, tell me, what is God? ~ Kabir,

2:What is God? Everything. ~ Pindar, Fragment 140d ,

3:What is God? God is the perfection that we must aspire to realise. ~ The Mother, Words Of The Mother II ,

4:What is God? God is the perfection that we must aspire to realise. 8 November 1969 ~ The Mother, Words Of The Mother II "The Divine" and "Man" [17],

5:I have a thousand brilliant lies For the question: How are you? I have a thousand brilliant lies For the question: What is God? If you think that the Truth can be known From words, If you think that the Sun and the Ocean Can pass through that tiny opening Called the mouth, O someone should start laughing! Someone should start wildly Laughing Now! ~ Hafiz,

6:Are you looking for me?I am in the next seat.My shoulder is againstyour own neckYou won't find me in the mosqueor the sadhus temple.You wont find me in holy booksor behind the lips of priests.Nor in eating nothing but vegetablesYou will find me in the tiniest house of time.Kabir says : Student, tell me, what is God?He is the breath inside the breath.... ~ Kabir,

7:The madman.- Have you not heard of that madman who lit a lantern in the bright morning hours, ran to the market place. and cried incessantly: "I seek God! I seek God!" -As many of those who did not believe in God were standing around just then, he provoked much laughter. Has he got lost? asked one. Did he lose his way like a child? asked another. Or is he hiding? Is he afraid of us? Has he gone on a voyage? emigrated? -Thus they yelled and laughed. The madman jumped into their midst and pierced them with his eyes. "Whither is God?" he cried; "I will tell you. We have killed him-you and I. All of us are his murderers. But how did we do this? How could we drink up the sea? Who gave us the sponge to wipe away the entire horizon? What were we doing when we unchained this earth from its sun? Whither is it moving now? Whither are we moving? Away from all suns? Are we not plunging continually? Backward, sideward. forward. in all directions? be there still any up or down? Are we not straying as through an infinite nothing? Do we not feel the breath of empty space? Has it not become colder? Is not night continually closing in on us? Do we not need to light lanterns in the morning? Do we hear nothing as yet of the noise of the gravediggers who are burying God? Do we smell nothing as yet of the divine decomposition? Gods, too. decompose. God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. "How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it? There has never been a greater deed; and whoever is born after us-for the sake of this deed he will belong to a higher history than all history hitherto." Here the madman fell silent and looked again at his listeners; and they, too, were silent and stared at him in astonishment. At last he threw his lantern on the ground, and it broke into pieces and went out. "I have come too early," he said then: "my time is not yet. This tremendous event is still on its way, still wandering; it has not yet reached the ears of men. Lightning and thunder require time; the light of the stars requires time; deeds, though done, still require time to be seen and heard. This deed is still more distant from them than the most distant stars-and yet they have done it themselves... It has been related further that on the same day the madman forced his way into several churches and there struck up his reqttiem aeternam deo. Led out and called to account, he is said always to have replied nothing but: "What after all are these churches now if they are not the tombs and sepulchers of God? ~ Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science trans. Kaufmann,

*** NEWFULLDB 2.4M ***

1:Student, tell me, what is God? ~ Kabir

2:Student, tell me, what is God? ~ Kabir,

3:What is God? Everything. ~ Pindar, Fragment 140d,

4:For what is God? He is the soul of the universe. ~ Seneca

5:... What is God? He is the breath inside the breath. ~ Kabir

6:Why is the universe? To shape God. Why is God? To shape the universe. ~ Octavia E Butler

7:The seeker asking, Where is God? Is really God saying, Where indeed is the seeker! ~ Meher Baba

8:Do the gods light this fire in our hearts or does each man's mad desire become his god? ~ Virgil

9:Kabir says: Student, tell me, what is God? He is the breath inside the breath. KABIR ~ Jon Kabat Zinn

10:I leave eternity to Thee; for what is man that he should live out the life-time of his God? ~ Herman Melville

11:What was once easy became confused and hard, which brings us back to the mystic question, who is God? ~ Rakim

12:What is God?    God is the perfection that we must aspire to realise.    ~ The Mother, Words Of The Mother II,

13:Who is of so little faith that in a moment of great disaster or heartbreak has not called to his God? ~ Og Mandino

14:80. What is God? The immutable or unalterable good. 81. What is man? An unchangeable evil. ~ Hermes Trismegistus

15:If God allows proof that he exists he robs people of faith and without faith what is God? Nothing. ~ Douglas Adams

16:Man's eternal question is:'Who is God?'God's immediate answer is:'My child, who else is God, if not you? ~ Sri Chinmoy

17:If all is God, are you not included in that all? Being God yourself, is it a wonder that all is God? ~ Sri Ramana Maharshi

18:          Why is the universe?           To shape God.           Why is God?           To shape the universe. ~ Octavia E Butler

19:What is God?—I cannot see Him or hear Him.—God is only an idea.” ‘“God is Infinite Wisdom, and Power, and Goodness—and Love; ~ Anne Bront

20:There is only one immediate question:  Where is God? The immediate answer is: God is where My heart's love-breath is. ~ Sri Chinmoy

21:The sights and sounds of human depravity were too much to forget. Is this hell? She wondered fleetingly. If not, where is God? ~ Corban Addison

22:What is God? The eternal One Life underneath all the forms of life. ~ Eckhart Tolle in [A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life's Purpose, p. 98, (2005)

23:Where is God? Where can I find him?" we ask. We don't realize that's like a fish swimming frantically through the ocean in search OF the ocean ~ Ted Dekker

24:What is God?    God is the perfection that we must aspire to realise. 8 November 1969    ~ The Mother, Words Of The Mother II, "The Divine" and "Man" [17],

25:For God’s sake, where is God?” And from within me, I heard a voice answer: “Where He is? This is where – hanging here from this gallows. ~ Elie Wiesel

26:depressing. I asked myself: ‘Where is God?’ I came to detest the sanctimonious attitude of people toward violence, always saying ‘it’s God’s will’. ~ Anton Szandor LaVey

27:What, then, is the God I worship? He can be none but the Lord God himself, for who but the Lord is God? What other refuge can there be, except our God? ~ Saint Augustine of Hippo

28:Without man, what is God? And without God, what is man? Everyone needs the help of someone to complete the work of Creation that is never truly completed. Everyone. ~ Chaim Potok

29:A voice behind me asked, "Where is God? Where is He? Where can He be now?" and a voice within me answered: "Where? Here He is - He has been hanged here, on these gallows." ~ Elie Wiesel

30:I have striven to be Thine, more than to be this world's, or mine own. Yet this is nothing; I leave eternity to Thee; for what is man that he should live out the lifetime of his God? ~ Herman Melville

31:What if the main issue in our culture today is not poverty or sex trafficking, homosexuality or abortion? What if the main issue is God? And what might happen if we made him our focus instead? ~ David Platt

32:What is God? The eternal one life underneath all the forms of life. What is love? To feel the presence of the one life deep within yourself and all creatures; to be it! Therefore, all love is the love of God. ~ Eckhart Tolle

33:Who is God? Who are we? What is our purpose? All these questions remain unanswered. I want to reach the genuine seeker of spiritual well-being. My goal is to satisfy the hunger and longing for those who are seeking the truth. ~ Ravi Zacharias

34:Behind me, I heard the same man asking: “For God’s sake, where is God?” And from within me, I heard a voice answer: “Where He is? This is where—hanging here from this gallows …” That night, the soup tasted of corpses. ~ Elie Wiesel

35:There are some questions that we all ask ourselves in different ways: Who am I? Who is God? What am I here for? What matters most? What matters least? What are my unique talents and abilities? What will my contribution be? What happens when we die? ~ Matthew Kelly

36:what is God? “He’s truth; He’s meaning. He’s my purpose and yours. With terrorists wiping people out, dealers hooking kids on meth and ecstasy, violence and cruelty; there’s still love, comfort, joy, and hope. That’s God. Without him, none of it makes sense. ~ Kristen Heitzmann

37:when we run from darkness, how much do we really know about what we are running from? If we turn away from darkness on principle, doing everything we can to avoid it because there is simply no telling what it contains, isn’t there a chance that what we are running from is God? ~ Barbara Brown Taylor

38:To the question, 'What is God?' and 'What is man?' the answer is that the soul, conscious of its limited existence, is 'man', and the soul reflected by the vision of the unlimited, is 'God'. In plain words man's self-consciousness is man, and man's consciousness of his highest ideal is God. ~ Hazrat Inayat Khan

39:Did you ever talk to Dr. Hoenikker?” I asked Miss Faust. “Oh, certainly. I talked to him a lot.” “Do any conversations stick in your mind?” “There was one where he bet I couldn’t tell him anything that was absolutely true. So I said to him, ‘God is love.’” “And what did he say?” “He said, ‘What is God? What is love? ~ Kurt Vonnegut

40:When I was your age, I lived in bed, racked with polio. I asked myself every day, ‘Where is God? Where is God? Where is God?’ God never came. It wasn’t God who saved me—it was medicine. Reason is my prophet and it tells me that as a watch stops, so we die. It’s the end. If the watch doesn’t work properly, it must be fixed here and now by us. ~ Yann Martel

41:So who is God? No one can finally say. That is not within human competence. All we can ever say is how we believe we have experienced God, doing our best to dispel our human delusions. Let me try to do just that. I experience God as the source of life calling me to live fully and thus to respect life in every form as embodying the holy. ~ John Shelby Spong

42:I have a thousand brilliant lies For the question: How are you? I have a thousand brilliant lies For the question: What is God? If you think that the Truth can be known From words, If you think that the Sun and the Ocean Can pass through that tiny opening Called the mouth, O someone should start laughing! Someone should start wildly Laughing Now!    ~ Hafiz,

43:Talking to a peasant one day, I suggested to him the hypothesis that there might indeed be a God who governs heaven and earth, a Consciousness or Conscience of the Universe, but that even so it would not be sufficient reason to assume that the soul of every man was immortal in the traditional and concrete sense. And he replied, "Then what good is God? ~ Miguel de Unamuno

44:Our own God Soul, our Holy Guardian Angel, whispers to us, “Be not afraid.” Can we breathe in some courage and breathe out some compassion, and take up the task at hand? Can we live fully, despite our fears? Can we use the energy of fear to propel us forward instead of using it as an excuse to keep us in place? Can we move ever toward the Work of This God? ~ T Thorn Coyle

45:But where are you going to, Helen? Can you see? Do you know?-I believe; I have faith: I am going to God.-Where is God? What is God?-My maker and yours, who will never destroy what He created. I rely implicitly on His power, and confide wholly in His goodness: I count the hours till that eventful one arrives which shall restore me to Him, reveal Him to me. ~ Charlotte Bronte

46:Why is the universe? To shape God. Why is God? To shape the universe. I can’t get rid of it. I’ve tried to change it or dump it, but I can’t. I cannot. It feels like the truest thing I’ve ever written. It’s as mysterious and as obvious as any other explanation of God or the universe that I’ve ever read, except that to me the others feel inadequate, at best. ~ Octavia E Butler

47:-But where are you going to, Helen? Can you see? Do you know? -I believe; I have faith: I am going to God. -Where is God? What is God? -My maker and yours, who will never destroy what He created. I rely implicitly on His power, and confide wholly in His goodness: I count the hours till that eventful one arrives which shall restore me to Him, reveal Him to me. ~ Charlotte Bront

48:God, for me, is more of a feeling, a feeling of peace. I think my god lives in a silence that exists inside me. It's such a delicious fucking silence, so profound. But this can also get tricky, because if I'm feeling crazy then I'm like, Where the hell is god? Has god abandoned me? Like, no peace, no god. But it's still better than some bro deity telling me I'm a piece of shit. ~ Melissa Broder

49:If, as you believe there is an Almighty, Omnipresent, Omniscient God, who created the earth or universe, please let me know, first of all, as to why he created this world. This world which is full of woe and grief, and countless miseries, where not even one person lives in peace....Where is God? What is He doing? Is He getting a diseased pleasure out of it? A Nero! A Genghis Khan! Down with Him! ~ Bhagat Singh

50:I have a thousand brilliant lies for the question: How are you? I have a thousand brilliant lies for the question: What is God? If you think that the Truth can be known from words, If you think that the Sun and the Ocean can pass through that tiny opening called the mouth, O someone should start laughing! Someone should start wildly Laughing,Now! ~ Hafiz, Someone Should Start Laughing

51:Their mockery is something like we hear today. “Germany prays to God; America prays to God; England prays to God: On whose side is God?” The implication being that God must necessarily be a geographical Deity restricted to one people, one race, and one nation. The answer to that taunt is, of course, that if we prayed as we should, we would all be on the same side because the perfect prayer is: “Thy will be done. ~ Fulton J Sheen

52:Are you looking for me? I am in the next seat. My shoulder is against your own neck You won't find me in the mosque or the sadhus temple. You wont find me in holy books or behind the lips of priests. Nor in eating nothing but vegetables You will find me in the tiniest house of time. Kabir says : Student, tell me, what is God? He is the breath inside the breath.... ~ Kabir,

53:I am not religious, but I am a pious man... A religious man has a definite religion. He says "God is there" or "God is there," "God is there." "Your god is not my god, and that's all." But the pious man, he just looks out with awe, and says, "where is God?" And "well, I don't understand it and I would like to know what this creation really means." That is a pious man, who is really touched by the greatness of nature and of the creation. ~ Albert Szent Gyorgyi

54:Last night I asked the moon about the Moon, my one question for the visible world, Where is God? The moon says, I am dust stirred up when he passed by. The sun: My face is pale yellow from just now seeing him. Water: I slide on my head and face, like a snake, from a spell he cast. Fire: His lightning – I want to be that restless. Wind: Why so light? I would burn too if I had a choice. Earth, quiet, impregnated: Inside me I have a garden and a bubbling spring. ~ Rumi

55:Are you looking for me? I am in the next seat. My shoulder is against yours. you will not find me in the stupas, not in Indian shrine rooms, nor in synagogues, nor in cathedrals: not in masses, nor kirtans, not in legs winding around your own neck, nor in eating nothing but vegetables. When you really look for me, you will see me instantly - you will find me in the tiniest house of time. Kabir says: Student, tell me, what is God? He is the breath inside the breath. ~ Kabir

56:What is God like? Because millions and millions of people were taught that the primary message - the center of the Gospel of Jesus - is that God is going to send you to hell, unless you believe in Jesus. And so, what gets, subtlely, sort of caught and taught is that Jesus rescues you from God. But what kind of God is that; that we would need to be rescued from this God? How could that God ever be good; how could that God ever be trusted? And how could that ever be good news. ~ Rob Bell

57:To be inspired is to feel God funnelling into one's work. We always want light from the darkness. We know something is there before we see it. The objective for a writer is to try to get some part of the face of a God on a piece of paper. It is a fearful undertaking going into something profound without knowing what you are looking for. Beauty is incomprehensible. Isn't that what God is? Witnessing the loss of beauty and the enduring effort to restore beauty, isn't this God? ~ Barry Lopez

58:There is never an end to our work. It is not given to us to complete it. Who completes his work? That is the way of the world, Asher. Only the Master of the Universe completed His work. And it is said that even the Master of the Universe needs humankind in order truly to complete the Creation. Without man, what is God? And without God, what is man? Everyone needs the help of someone to complete the work of Creation that is never truly completed. Everyone. An artist, a Rebbe, everyone. ~ Chaim Potok

59:A lot of people seem to believe in a big-daddy-God or a big-cop-God or a big-king-God. They believe in a kind of super-person. A few believe God is another word for nature. And nature turns out to mean just about anything they happen not to understand or feel in control of. Some say God is a spirit, a force, an ultimate reality. Ask seven people what all of that means and you’ll get seven different answers. So what is God? Just another name for whatever makes you feel special and protected? ~ Octavia E Butler

60:Think, "I am beyond the body. This body is just a water bubble. I am beyond the mind. This mind is just a mad monkey. I am the Atma. I and God are one. Before this body was formed I was there. After this body leaves I am there. Without this body I am still there. I am omnipresent. I am all." To reach this truth you have to do some spiri­tual practice. You have to inquire, "What is God? Who is God? Who am I?" Jesus spent twelve years in the desert; then he realized. You must also do some Sadhana. ~ Sathya Sai Baba

61:Are you looking for me? I am in the next seat. My shoulder is against yours. you will not find me in the stupas, not in Indian shrine rooms, nor in synagogues, nor in cathedrals: not in masses, nor kirtans, not in legs winding around your own neck, nor in eating nothing but vegetables. When you really look for me, you will see me instantly — you will find me in the tiniest house of time. Kabir says: Student, tell me, what is God? He is the breath inside the breath. ~ Kabir

62:What if the main issue in our culture today is not poverty or sex trafficking, homosexuality or abortion? What if the main issue is God? And what might happen if we made him our focus instead? In a world marked by sex slavery and sexual immorality, the abandonment of children and the murder of children, racism and persecution, the needs of the poor and the neglect of the widow, how would we act if we fixed our gaze on the holiness, love, goodness, truth, justice, authority, and mercy of God revealed in the gospel? ~ David Platt

63:We need to understand that the challenge posed by Islam is very different from the challenge presented by Communism during the twentieth century. Communism made the absurd claim that there is no God, and the result was a horrific system that collapsed after only seventy years. Islam has already been around for fourteen hundred years and presents a far greater challenge for Christians. It presents us with this question: Who is God? The way we answer this question has a profound implication on how we live our lives. The ~ Brother Andrew

64:Are you looking for me? I am in the next seat. My shoulder is against yours. you will not find me in the stupas, not in Indian shrine rooms, nor in synagogues, nor in cathedrals: not in masses, nor kirtans, not in legs winding around your own neck, nor in eating nothing but vegetables. When you really look for me, you will see me instantly -- you will find me in the tiniest house of time. Kabir says: Student, tell me, what is God? He is the breath inside the breath. ~ Kabir, Are you looking for me?

65:God is the tree in the forests that allows itself to die and will not defend itself in front of those with the ax, not wanting to cause them shame. And God is the earth that will allow itself to be deformed by man's tools, but He cries; yes, God cries, but only in front of His closest ones. And a beautiful animal is being beaten to death, but nothing can make God break His silence to the masses and say, "Stop, please stop, why are you doing this to Me? " How humble is God? Kabir wept when I knew. ~ Kabir, How Humble Is God

66:The note of a trumpet sounded, and Pavlov went to the window. The girl stood beside him. She said, The dead are coming. The dead are coming, Pavlov repeated. But where do they go? To Hades, Pavlov said. Who is there in Hades? Pluto, Pavlov said. Is he nice? He likes to live in the underworld, Pavlov said. And where is God? Rima asked. There is no God, there are only humans who imagine the possibility of gods. When the music started, Pavlov went to the middle of the room and moved his feet. The dog joined him. He extended his arms to his little niece, and all three of them danced to the tune of the dead. ~ Rawi Hage

67:O man, do you believe that Christ is God? If you believe, fear, and keep His commandments? there is no other God but He (cf. Dt. 4:35). To Him no one is equal, nor can become equal (cf. Is. 40:18). He is Ruler of all things, the Judge of all, the King of all, the Maker of light and the Lord of life. He is the Light that is ineffable, inaccessible (cf. I Tim. 6:16), and He is the Only One. By His appearing He causes all His enemies to vanish before His face (cf. Ps. 68:2 f.), as well as those who do not perform His commandments, just as the sun when it rises drives away the darkness of night. ~ Symeon the New Theologian

68:Consuelo's appearance set her apart from the others, and the nuns, sure that this was not accidental but a sign of benevolent divine will, spared no effort in cultivating her faith, in the hope she would decide to take her vows and serve the Church; al their efforts, however, came to naught before the girl's instinctive rejection. She made the attempt in good faith, but never succeeded in accepting the tyrannical god the nuns preached to her about; she preferred a more joyful, maternal, and compassionated god. "That is the Most Holy Virgin Mary," the nuns explained to her. "She is God?" "No, she is the Mother of God." "Yes, but who has the say in heaven, God or his Mama? ~ Isabel Allende

69:Where has God gone?” [the madman asked] “I shall tell you. We have killed him – you and I. We are his murderers. But how have we done this? How were we able to drink up the seas? Who gave us the sponge to wipe away the entire horizon? What did we do when we unchained the earth from its sun? Whither is it moving now? Whither are we moving now? Away from all suns? Are we not perpetually falling? Backwards, sideward, forward, in all directions? Is there any up or down left? Are we not straying as though through Infinite nothing? Where is God? God is Dead. Go remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we, murders of all murders, console ourselves? ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

70:Then came the march past the victims. The two men were no longer alive. Their tongues were hanging out, swollen and bluish. But the third rope was still moving: the child, too light, was still breathing... And so he remained for more than half an hour, lingering between life and death, writhing before our eyes. And we were forced to look at him at close range. He was still alive when I passed him. His tongue was still red, his eyes not yet extinguished. Behind me, I heard the same man asking: "For God's sake, where is God?" And from within me, I heard a voice answer: "Where He is? This is where--hanging here from this gallows..." That night, the soup tasted of corpses. ~ Elie Wiesel

71:You cannot say that the things of this world are different from Kṛṣṇa, because without Kṛṣṇa they have no existence. At the same time, you cannot say, “Then let me worship water. Why worship Kṛṣṇa?” The pantheists say that because everything is God, whatever we do is God worship. This is Māyāvāda philosophy – that because everything is made of God’s energy, therefore everything is God. But our philosophy is that everything is God but also not God. Bob: Is there anything on earth that is God? Śrīla Prabhupāda: Yes. In one sense everything here is God because everything is made out of the energy of God. But that does not mean that by worshipping anything you are worshipping God. ~ A C Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhup da

72:Where is God when it hurts? We know one answer because God came to earth and showed us. You need only follow Jesus around and note how he responded to the tragedies of his day: large-scale tragedies such as an act of government terrorism in the temple or a tower collapsing on eighteen innocent bystanders; as well as small tragedies, such as a widow who has lost her only son or even a Roman soldier whose servant has fallen ill. At moments like these Jesus never delivered sermons about judgment or the need to accept God’s mysterious providence. Instead he responded with compassion – a word from Latin which simply means, “to suffer with” – and comfort and healings. God stands on the side of those who suffer. (pp.27-28/What Good Is God?) ~ Philip Yancey

73:// And I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?" Then I said, "Here I am! Send me." // Isaiah 6:8 "I love the immediacy of Isaiah's response. There was no whiff of 'Well, let me go home and pray about what God has for me.' Let me save you the time. Let me ask you three question: 1. Have you seen this God? I'm not asking if you've heard about Him. Have you seen this God? 2. Have you ever felt that desperate and been touched with that kind of grace? 3. Did you hear God when He said 'Whom shall I send?' Did you hear that? Because you can't be near the cross and not hear God say it. This world is messed up on a magnitude that is staggering. People are lost, and God cares. And He's asking you, right now, 'Whom shall I send? Who will go for us? ~ Louie Giglio

74:For those willing to keep heaving themselves toward the light, things can change. What has been lost gradually becomes less important than what is to be found. Curiosity pokes its green head up through the asphalt of grief, and fear of the unknown takes on an element of wonder as the disillusioned turn away from the God who was supposed to be in order to seek the God who is. Every letdown becomes a lesson and a lure. Did God fail to come when I called? Then perhaps God is not a minion. So who is God? Did God fail to punish my adversary? Then perhaps God is not a policeman. So who is God? Did God fail to make everything turn out all right? Then perhaps God is not a fixer. So who is God? Over and over, my disappointments draw me deeper into the mystery of God’s being and doing. Every time God declines to meet my expectations, another of my idols is exposed. ~ Barbara Brown Taylor

75:However people sincerely call on me, I come to them and fulfill their hearts’ desires. They use many paths to reach me. It might sound philosophical, but we can make it a little clearer by saying that God, the Supreme One, the Incarnation, is not a person. Then what is God? Simplest to understand is that God is the peace in us. We are born with joy. We are peace and joy personified. We are purity personified. Unfortunately we seem to be ignoring that. We’re ignorant of our own true nature. So we run after things to make us happy and to find peace. Behind all our efforts, our basic motive is to find happiness and thus to find peace. All our actions are for that good. They need not be religious. We’re all working toward that happiness. Even all these wars, fights and competition are ways people look for happiness. Even when people steal things, they think they’re going to be happy by stealing. So the ultimate motive behind all our actions is to find that joy and peace. That’s what Krishna means when he says, “Whatever people do, ultimately their interest is in me.” When he says “me,” it means that peace: “I am that joy. I am eternal. Unfortunately many don’t realize that I, as peace, am already there in them.” Sometimes you put on your earrings and then forget them. Then you spend hours pulling out all the drawers until somebody comes, pinches your ears and says, “Here they are.” It’s the same way spiritually. Peace, or your true Self, is something subjective. You look about for it outside of you as some object, something different from you. That’s why you miss it. If occasionally you seem to be enjoying some happiness or peace, that’s nothing but a reflection of your own peace within. ~ Swami Satchidananda

76:Haven't you heard of that madman who in the bright morning lit a lantern and ran around the marketplace crying incessantly, 'I'm looking for God! l'm looking for God!' Since many of those who did not believe in God were standing around together just then, he caused great laughter. Has he been lost, then? asked one. Did he lose his way like a child? asked another. Or is he hiding? Is he afraid of us? Has he gone to sea? Emigrated? - Thus they shouted and laughed, one interrupting the other. The madman jumped into their midst and pierced them with his eyes. 'Where is God?' he cried; 'I'll tel1 you! We have kil/ed him - you and I! Wc are all his murderers. But how did wc do this? How were we able to drink up the sea? Who gave us the spange to wipe away the entire horizon? What were we doing when we unchained this earth from its sun? Where is it moving to now? Where are we moving to? Away from all suns? Are wc not continually falling? And backwards, sidewards, forwards, in all directions? Is there still an up and a down? Aren't we straying as though through an infinite nothing? Isn't empty space breathing at us? Hasn't it got colder? Isn't night and more night coming again and again? Don't lanterns have to be lit in the morning? Do we still hear nothing of the noise of the grave-diggers who are burying God? Do we still smell nothing of the divine decomposition? - Gods, too, decompose! God is dead! God remains dead! And we have killed him! How can we console ourselves, the murderers of all murderers. The holiest and the mightiest thing the world has ever possessed has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood from us? With what water could we clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what holy games will we have to invent for ourselves? Is the magnitude of this deed not too great for us? Do we not ourselves have to become gods merely to appear worthy of it? ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

77:The Nobel Prize winner Elie Wiesel had lived only for God during his childhood in Hungary; his life had been shaped by the disciplines of the Talmud, and he had hoped one day to be initiated into the mysteries of Kabbalah. As a boy, he was taken to Auschwitz and later to Buchenwald. During his first night in the death camp, watching the black smoke coiling to the sky from the crematorium where the bodies of his mother and sister were to be thrown, he knew that the flames had consumed his faith forever. He was in a world which was the objective correlative of the Godless world imagined by Nietzsche. “Never should I forget that nocturnal silence which deprived me, for all eternity, of the desire to live,” he wrote years later. “Never shall I forget these moments which murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to dust.”33 One day the Gestapo hanged a child. Even the SS were disturbed by the prospect of hanging a young boy in front of thousands of spectators. The child who, Wiesel recalled, had the face of a “sad-eyed angel,” was silent, lividly pale and almost calm as he ascended the gallows. Behind Wiesel, one of the other prisoners asked: “Where is God? Where is He?” It took the child half an hour to die, while the prisoners were forced to look him in the face. The same man asked again: “Where is God now?” And Wiesel heard a voice within him make this answer: “Where is He? Here He is—He is hanging here on this gallows.”34 Dostoevsky had said that the death of a single child could make God unacceptable, but even he, no stranger to inhumanity, had not imagined the death of a child in such circumstances. The horror of Auschwitz is a stark challenge to many of the more conventional ideas of God. The remote God of the philosophers, lost in a transcendent apatheia, becomes intolerable. Many Jews can no longer subscribe to the biblical idea of God who manifests himself in history, who, they say with Wiesel, died in Auschwitz. The idea of a personal God, like one of us writ large, is fraught with difficulty. If this God is omnipotent, he could have prevented the Holocaust. If he was unable to stop it, he is impotent and useless; if he could have stopped it and chose not to, he is a monster. Jews are not the only people who believe that the Holocaust put an end to conventional theology. ~ Karen Armstrong

78:The madman.-    Have you not heard of that madman who lit a lantern in the bright morning hours, ran to the market place. and cried incessantly: "I seek God! I seek God!" -As many of those who did not believe in God were standing around just then, he provoked much laughter. Has he got lost? asked one. Did he lose his way like a child? asked another. Or is he hiding? Is he afraid of us? Has he gone on a voyage? emigrated? -Thus they yelled and laughed.    The madman jumped into their midst and pierced them with his eyes. "Whither is God?" he cried; "I will tell you. We have killed him-you and I. All of us are his murderers. But how did we do this? How could we drink up the sea? Who gave us the sponge to wipe away the entire horizon? What were we doing when we unchained this earth from its sun? Whither is it moving now? Whither are we moving? Away from all suns? Are we not plunging continually? Backward, sideward. forward. in all directions? be there still any up or down? Are we not straying as through an infinite nothing? Do we not feel the breath of empty space? Has it not become colder? Is not night continually closing in on us? Do we not need to light lanterns in the morning? Do we hear nothing as yet of the noise of the gravediggers who are burying God? Do we smell nothing as yet of the divine decomposition? Gods, too. decompose. God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him.    "How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it? There has never been a greater deed; and whoever is born after us-for the sake of this deed he will belong to a higher history than all history hitherto."    Here the madman fell silent and looked again at his listeners; and they, too, were silent and stared at him in astonishment. At last he threw his lantern on the ground, and it broke into pieces and went out. "I have come too early," he said then: "my time is not yet. This tremendous event is still on its way, still wandering; it has not yet reached the ears of men. Lightning and thunder require time; the light of the stars requires time; deeds, though done, still require time to be seen and heard. This deed is still more distant from them than the most distant stars-and yet they have done it themselves... It has been related further that on the same day the madman forced his way into several churches and there struck up his reqttiem aeternam deo. Led out and called to account, he is said always to have replied nothing but: "What after all are these churches now if they are not the tombs and sepulchers of God? ~ Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science, trans. Kaufmann,

79:In Nunhead Cemetary It is the clay what makes the earth stick to his spade; He fills in holes like this year after year; The others have gone; they were tired, and half afraid But I would rather be standing here; There is nowhere else to go. I have seen this place From the windows of the train that's going past Against the sky. This is rain on my face It was raining here when I saw it last. There is something horrible about a flower; This, broken in my hand, is one of those He threw it in just now; it will not live another hour; There are thousands more; you do not miss a rose. One of the children hanging about Pointed at the whole dreadful heap and smiled This morning after THAT was carried out; There is something terrible about a child. We were like children last week, in the Strand; That was the day you laughed at me Because I tried to make you understand The cheap, stale chap I used to be Before I saw the things you made me see. This is not a real place; perhaps by-and-by I shall wake - I am getting drenched with all this rain: To-morrow I will tell you about the eyes of the Chrystal Palace train Looking down on us, and you will laugh and I shall see what you see again. Not here, not now. We said 'Not yet Across our low stone parapet Will the quick shadows of the sparrows fall. But still it was a lovely thing Through the grey months to wait for Spring With the birds that go a-gypsying In the parks till the blue seas call. 10 And next to these, you used to care For the Lions in Trafalgar Square, Who'll stand and speak for London when her bell of Judgement tolls And the gulls at Westminster that were The old sea-captains souls. To-day again the brown tide splashes step by step, the river stair, And the gulls are there! By a month we have missed our Day: The children would have hung about Round the carriage and over the way As you and I came out. We should have stood on the gulls' black cliffs and heard the sea And seen the moon's white track, I would have called, you would have come to me And kissed me back. You have never done that: I do not know Why I stood staring at your bed And heard you, though you spoke so low, But could not reach your hands, your little head; There was nothing we could not do, you said, And you went, and I let you go! Now I will burn you back, I will burn you through, Though I am damned for it we two will lie And burn, here where the starlings fly To these white stones from the wet sky - ; Dear, you will say this is not I It would not be you, it would not be you! If for only a little while You will think of it you will understand, If you will touch my sleeve and smile As you did that morning in the Strand I can wait quietly with you Or go away if you want me to God! What is God? but your face has gone and your hand! Let me stay here too. 11 When I was quite a little lad At Christmas time we went half mad For joy of all the toys we had, And then we used to sing about the sheep The shepherds watched by night; We used to pray to Christ to keep Our small souls safe till morning light - ; I am scared, I am staying with you to-night Put me to sleep. I shall stay here: here you can see the sky; The houses in the street are much too high; There is no one left to speak to there; Here they are everywhere, And just above them fields and fields of roses lie If he would dig it all up again they would not die. ~ Charlotte Mary Mew

80:The Manuscript Of Saint Alexius There came a child into the solemn hall where great Pope Innocent sat throned and heard angry disputings on Free-Will in man, Grace, Purity, and the Pelagian creed-an ignorantly bold poor child, who stood shewing his rags before the Pope's own eyes, and bade him come to shrive a beggar man he found alone and dying in a shed, who sent him for the Pope, "not any else but the Pope's self." And Innocent arose and hushed the mockers "Surely I will go: servant of servants, I." So he went forth to where the man lay sleeping into death, and blessed him. Then, with a last spurt of life, the dying man rose sitting, "Take," he said, and placed a written scroll in the Pope's hand, and so fell back and died. Thus said the scroll: Alexius, meanest servant of the Lord, son of Euphemianus, senator, and of Aglaia, writes his history, God willing it, which, if God so shall will, shall be revealed when he is fallen asleep. Spirit of Truth, Christ, and all saints of Heaven, and Mary, perfect dove of guilelessness, make his mind clear, that he write utter truth. That which I was all know: that which I am God knows, not I, if I stand near to Him because I have not yielded, or, by curse of recreant longings, am to Him a wretch it needs Such grace to pardon: but I know that one day soon I, dead, shall see His face with that great pity on it which is ours who love Him and have striven and then rest, that I shall look on Him and be content. For what I am, in my last days, to men, 'tis nothing; scarce a name, and even that 164 known to be not my own; a wayside wretch battening upon a rich lord's charity and praying, (some say like the hypocrites), a wayside wretch who, harboured for a night, is harboured still, and, idle on the alms, prays day and night and night and day, and fears lest, even praying, he should suddenly undo his prayer and perish and be great and rich and happy. Jesu, keep me Thine. Father and mother, when ye hear of me, (for I shall choose so sure a messenger whom God will shew me), when ye hear these words, and Claudia, whom I dead will dare count mine, bidding her pray she be Christ's more than mine, believe I loved you; know it; but, beloved, you never will know how much till at length God bids you know all things in the new life. Alas, you have had little joy of me: beloved, could I have given drops of blood in place of your shed tears, the cruellest wounds had been my perfect joys: but both my love and your distress needs were my cross to bear. Forgive me that you sorrowed. And be glad because you sorrowed and your sorrow was holy to God, a sacrifice to Him. Know now, all men who read or hear my words, that I, Alexius, lived in much delights of a dear home where they who looked on me looked with a smile, and where I did but smile to earn sweet praises as for some good deed: I was the sunlight to my mother's eyes, that waked their deepest blueness and warm glow, I was my father's joy, ambition, boast, his hope and his fulfilment. It may be I grew too strong a link betwixt their hearts and this poor world whose best gifts seemed to them destined for me, grew, when they looked on Heaven, a blur upon their sight, too largely near, as any trivial tiny shape held close will make eclipse against the eye it fills: 165 and so, maybe. for their sake, not for mine, God took me from them, me, their only son, for whom they prayed, and trebled pious deeds, and took thought in this life. I grew by them, learning all meet for my estate on earth, but learning more, what they taught more, of God, and loving most that learning. And at times, even from childhood, would my heart grow still and seem to feel Him, hear Him, and I knew, but not with ears, a voice that spoke no words yet called me. And, as ignorant children choose "I will be emperor when I am big," my foolish wont was "I will be a saint:" later, when riper sense brought humbleness, I said "When I am grown a man, my lot Shall be with those who vow their lives to Christ." But, when my father thought my words took shape of other than boy's prattle, he grew grave, and answered me "Alexius, thou art young, and canst not judge of duties; but know this thine is to serve God, living in the world." And still the days went on, and still I felt the silent voice that called me: then I said "My father, now I am no more a child, and I can know my heart; give me to God:" but he replied "God gives no son save thee to keep our fathers' name alive, and thus He shews thy place and duty:" and, with tears, my mother said "God gives no child save thee; make me not childless." And their words seemed God's more than my heart's, theirs who had rule on me. But still my longing grew, and still the voice: and they both answered "Had God need of thee to leave thy natural place none else can fill, there would be signs which none could doubt, nor we nor thou thyself." And I received that word; knowing I doubted since they bade me doubt. 166 And still the days went on, and still the voice and then my father said "The bride is chosen, if thou wilt have her; if not, choose thyself." And more and more I prayed "Give me to God:" and more and more they urged "Whom gives He us save thee to keep our name alive? whom else to stay us from a desolate old age, and give us children prattling at our knees?" and more and more they answered "Shew to us how He has called thee from thy certain path where He has set thy feet?" Wherefore I said "I will obey, and will so serve my God as you have bidden me serve Him, honouring you:" and they two blessed me, and we were agreed. And afterwards Euphemianus laughed "He asks not of the bride; but, boy, art pleased? 'tis thy fair playmate Claudia, fair and good." I, who asked not because I nothing cared, was glad in afterthinking: for the girl lad been my playmate, and of later time knew her beauty with familiar eyes and no more feared it than I feared the grace of useless goddesses perfect in stone, lingering dishonoured in unholy nooks where comes no worship more; so that I mused "The damsel brings no perilous wedding gift of amorous unknown fetters for my soul; my soul shall still be spared me, consecrate, virgin to God until the better days when I may live the life alone with Him:" so was I comforted. But, in the hour when all the rite was done and the new bride come to her home, I sitting half apart, my mother took her fondly by the hand and drew her, lagging timidly, to me, and spoke "Look up my daughter, look on him: Alexius, shall I tell what I have guessed, how this girl loves you?" Then she raised her head 167 a moment long, and looked: and I grew white, and sank back sickly. For I suddenly knew that I might know that which men call love. And through the tedious feast my mind was torn with reasonings and repentance. For I said "But I may love her," and kept marshalling forth such scriptures as should seem to grant it me: then would an anguish hurl my fabric down, while I discerned that he who has put hand upon the plough must never turn again to take the joyaunce granted easy lives. And bye and bye I stole away and went, half conscious, through the darkling garden groves, amid the evening silence, till I came to a small lonely chapel, little used, left open by I know not what new chance, where there was patterned out in polished stones Peter denying Christ. I hastened in, and threw me on the floor, and would have prayed; but, in a rush of tears, I fell asleep. And there I dreamed: meseemed the easy years had slipped along, and I sat, pleased and proud, among my ruddy children, and I held my wife's smooth hand, who but so much had changed as to grow fairer in her womanhood; and, facing us, a carved and marble Christ hung on a Cross and gazed with Its dumb eyes, I looking on It: and I turned my head to smile to Claudia, and then looked again; behold Its right arm moved, and then was still, And a low voice came forth "Alexius, come." And I replied "Oh Lord I am content; but lo my father." Then my father stood, meseemed, beside me, leading in his hand a sturdy urchin, copy of himself, and answered "Son, my ears do hear thee called; and now I have this son of thine: go forth." 168 And once again the voice, "Alexius, come." And I replied "My Lord, I am content; but lo my mother." Then my mother stood, meseemed, beside me, and her arm was wound round my wife's neck, and clinging to her skirt a baby boy and girl that teased and played and clamoured for her kisses: so she stood, and answered "Son, my ears do hear thee called; and now this daughter hast thou given me, and now I have these babes of thine: go forth." And louder then the voice, "Alexius, come." And I replied "Dear Lord, I am content; I come." Then Claudia's hand grew tight in mine, and I looked on her face and saw it so as when my mother bade her look on me, and I replied "Oh Lord I were content, but lo my wife." And still again the voice; and still again her hand that drew mine back; and I replied "My wife: I cannot come." And still again the voice, "Alexius, come," loud and in wrath. And I replied "My wife: I will not come." And with that word I woke. I was in darkness, and the door was locked, (doubtless while I, asleep or tranced, lay dumb some one had sought me there and had not found, and so had gone, unconscious, prisoning me); 169 I groped my way toward the altar steps, and thanked my God, and prayed. When morning broke I heard without two voices, as it seemed of holy pilgrims talking, and one said "The youth Alexius surely has fled forth to serve God safelier;" the other said "Then doth he well; for now that better part shall none take from him, he shall be all God's and only God's, not father's, mother's, son's, nor any fond fair woman's." Then they went. But I was still there prisoned. Day moved on, and brightened, and then waned, and darkness came, broken by one white moonbeam, for an hour, that seemed a promise, and, in that good hope, I prayed, then slept. But when morn grew again, and no deliverance came, but frequent steps, and voices passing, I grew scared with doubts if, keeping silence, as from enemies, and by my silence dying, I should be self-murdered or God's martyr; and I thought how, maybe, at the last my fainting voice should vainly cry too late, and I should pass with none to give God's comfort. But I thought "If God wills even that, then let it be." But when the noon sun glowed I heard a hand touch at the door, and crouched me in a nook, and scarce had crouched when Claudia passed by me with slow steps to the altar: she prayed long; praying, poor child, to have me given back, claiming me back of Heaven, as if her right could equal That right, crying out for me by loving names, and weeping, that my heart went out of me towards her, wondering, and yearned for her. But God was pitiful, so that I swerved not. 170 When I heard her vow to pray there daily, I perceived through her deliverance should come shortly: and I planned to stand within the shadow the noon light threw from a massive column by the door, and, when she had passed in and hid her face, get me forth softly. But the flesh was weak, and when I waked again the noon beams fell full on the face of Peter where he wept repenting; Claudia was already there. I thought a moment should I not come forth, and charge her let none know, and go my way; but, did she give one startled sudden cry, womanlike, I had been betrayed: and then I feared her if she wept. May God forgive my weak heart then, my weak heart all my days, which never has been so strong as not feel always the fall at hand, but then so weak that some few urgent tears and soft sad words might, haply might, have bought me from my God. So she went forth, unconscious: and I prayed death should not come at night, with none at hand to minister beside me, and in faith I laid me down to wait what God should send. And in a little while she came again, and sought and found a gold and emerald pin, (one of the gifts they made me give to her), dropped from her loosened hair, then, kissing it, passed out, and, for a moment long, forgot to make the door fast, turned back to the task, then, murmuring "Why? For it is better thus, when whoso wills can enter in and pray," left it and went. 171 Then free, I made my vow to live unknown, unhonoured, with no ties, no certain home, no aims, no rights, no name, an unregarded wanderer, whose steps, by whichsoever road they passed, but passed to travel nearer Heaven. And, for a sign, I made a secret place and hid my ring under the altar. You will find it there: at the right hand a cross upon an A cut on the floor, so small you must look well, and near it, at the altar-base, a crack I found there in the chiselling, (just behind a cherub's wing), is closed with dust and earth; there lies the ring. Give it me mine again, it and my name I take back for my grave, as I take back my kinsfolk and my friends to pray and mourn for me and give God thanks. That done, I got me forth, and saw none nigh, (the search near home being over, as it seemed), and with my best poor speed I found a copse whose green thick tangles hid me: there I lay till the cool nightfall came and patient stars watched Earth asleep, as if they prayed for her; and other eyes saw not save theirs, and those that look from Heaven, when I came sickly forth and dragged my limp and failing limbs along. I made my clothes in tatters; thus I went and begged food at a convent for my life that else were flickered out: so they gave food, and they gave shelter: and at dawn I went, while none who could have known had looked on me, and, hastening on my journey, followed forth my fellow-Roman Tiber's seaward strides, and reached the port. There, as I since have learned, Euphemianus had left men in wait while he searched otherwhere: but God ruled all. A little ship was just launched out to sea, 172 her heel still caught upon the grating beach, the men were good and took the pilgrim in who at the farewell moment called to them, and, in what while I know not, but it seemed as short as in a dream are days and years, I saw my shores grown narrow purple clouds, and then (for I write truth though shaming me) I broke into such weeping that the men felt whiteness in their cheeks, and, marvelling, sent whispers to and fro, in doubt of me lest witchcraft held me or my some deep crime had set a curse demoniac; and they schemed if they should put back to be rid of me, but one said "Tush! the youth weeps for his home; at his age, maybe, some of us could weep; let him alone." A rough and grizzled man, who after, at the haven, came and clapped a great hand on my shoulder, "Look, my boy, you keep your secrets safer: for I heard of a hot hunt after a great man's son, and when I saw you weep ...... Well go your way, my tongue shall earn no wages by its blab. Maybe at your age I should have fled too, if yoked against my will; but I am old and preach go home again. Some say she's fair; and a fair woman, love her or not love, is a fair woman: but, or fair or foul, be wise, young sir, be wise; never go starve because your cake's not candied to your taste." I said "Kind friend, I have no home to seek; God gives me not a home till bye and bye," and left him. So my pilgrimage began. But, oh vain heart of man! can this be true which I remember, that I, plodding on, whither I did not ask me, as God willed, undoubting and ungrieving, yea, puffed up to feel my heart was numb of all regret, carrying upon my lips (as men will burr a day long some persistent measured strain) 173 for refrain-catch "Now all and only God's," drew from my bosom, with my crucifix, a withered crumpled weed, a clinging thing that, green and dainty, new brushed from its root, with one white flower-speck on it, trailed its sprays athwart the purple hem of Claudia's veil the last time in the chapel while she prayed; it lay upon the floor when she was gone. A worthless grass, what good was it to me? and, lo, made fellow with my crucifix! yet surely I had done it scarce aware, for now I gazed on it so stupidly as though a secret hand had placed it there to set a riddle so, nor could recall what thought I took it with. But see what snares I fled from, flying Claudia; suddenly the thing was at my lips, in such a kiss as, maybe, lovers kiss on women's mouths, in such a kiss howbeit as brought forth shame almost in its own birth. I hurled the weed, the viperous thing, into the battling surf that dragged and sucked the booming shingles down, lashing the beach before a coming storm; I hurled it forth and went. It seems to me, looking back now, as if that made an end. I think I had no temptings afterwards. Natheless my grief was bitter many times remembering home: but that I felt not sin, because 'twas as a soul among the dead might sorrow, never wishing to come back. And Claudia was not of my memories: scarcely at all: a stray bad dream at night would bring her to me, make me dream I wept because I might not love her, but not dream that I did love; in daytime she came not. Ten years I wandered: who cares know the whither? a pilgrim and alone I trod my way, no man regarding me. Alone with God: 174 whether in deserts or the throng of towns; whether upon the mountain-tops, whence earth shows sometimes so too exquisite for man as though the devil had leave to fashion it and cozen us with its beauty; or below, where in the valleys one beholds the hills grow nearer Heaven at sunset; or my ears full of the hymn of waters, where the sea breaks at one's feet among the rough brown rocks; whether in pain, in weariness, in fear, or, thankful, taking comfortable rest; always alone with God. So for ten years: and in the later of them I had peace: so for ten years, and then, by what degrees I know not, (for the stupor crept like sleep, slowly yet sudden on one at the last), my peace became a blankness. And one day I sought to rouse me, questioning "Where is God?" and could not weep because I found him not, yea, could not rouse me. And my prayers were words, like trite goodmorrows when two gossips meet and never look for answers; and my praise was rounded like the song the poet makes to one who never lived for him to love. I was my Pharisee to cheat myself and make myself believe me that God's friend I had forgotten what it felt to be. So, when I saw this plainly, I took thought, pondering how it should be that when I pined for thirst of human love I loved God more and felt His love more near me than when now my heart was swept and garnished, void for Him: at last I saw my need of quickening pain to stir the sluggish soul awake in me, and knew I offered nothing to my Lord, offering Him that it cost me nought to give; what good to turn to Him, "Lord I leave all," if all be noway precious? 175 I arose and set my face to Rome, making all haste. On the forty-seventh day I saw the sun droop to the hills behind my father's house, and lo, while I toiled up the rude ascent, our last slope of the Aventine, there came, riding apart and grave, from the far side, Euphemianus. When he reached the gate he entered not, but seemed to point me out to the servitors that followed with his hawks, and watched me coming upwards painfully. And when he saw me footsore and so spent he had compassion: ere my prayer was done, "Food, my good lord, and rest, for charity," he bade them take me in. Six years ago: and now I die here. No one bade depart; they gave me daily scraps, and let me live in the shed for harbouring squalid wanderers that sleep a night, and take their alms, and go. None knew me; who should know me? Gone away, past ten years since, a comely petted boy, and now a half decrepit sickly wretch, a lean and shrivelled carcase, the ten years writ twenty on my leathery wrinkled face, how was I their Alexius? Nay, they looked and saw the stranger in the beggar's shed they called, for want of name, Old Lazarus. In the beggar's shed with God: with God again! Oh exquisite pain that brought so exquisite joy! even by instant peril to be lost lo I was saved. Oh blessed exquisite pain! my heart awoke, for anguish, and felt God. I saw my father pass out and pass in; sometimes he noted me and spoke a word or looked a careless greeting, oftenest not; I saw him daily, and I learned his face 176 how stern long sorrow made it and how still, and, when some days he could not make a smile, I heard the servants whisper "Do you see? this is his lost son's birthday," or "the day his son fled forth," or else "his baptism," "confirming," "going to school," all such home dates as parents count who watch their children grow: and he was changed, they said, cared not to see friends' faces greeting him, nor join in talk, but would be solitary; changed, they said, since that strange losing of his only child. My mother I saw not in the first days, for she came never forth, but sat and slept, and wakened querulous, and slept again. And Claudia tended her: I had not thought to find her here; I looked she'd count me dead and marry her, ('tis known what women are), and was all startled when I saw her first: but only for the strangeness, after that she was no more to me than I to her, she might have smiled to me, or in my sight, that dangerous smile and I be no more moved than if a babe had laughed as I passed by. Then a day came, a still and sultry day when one might take count of each leaf that stirred and think the one shrill grasshopper too loud, my mother waked and heard a hymn I sang, and took a whim to have the singer brought: only a whim, belike, for could my voice bring back the stripling's voice she had thought sweet? they fetched me, I stood by her: ah my mother! and she so changed! nothing of her old self; the goodliness, the sweetness, the delight, gone, waned out from her, as the light of day was waning from her eyes long dulled by tears. Ah, could I but have clung about her feet, crying out "Mother, take thy son again!" But yet for her it would have been too late. She talked to me, inconsequent grave talk like children's, whispered after when I prayed, 177 and made me sing her hymns, so was content longer than was her wont, then bade me go and come again to-morrow: ever since she calls me every day. And every day is Claudia there. More than two thousand days, and every day I look on Claudia's face grown wistful and more sweet, and every day behold her patience, hear her wise grave words, and better know her all she is. What then? Have I not striven? have I not prevailed? And now death is at hand: some few days more and I shall lay me down and be at rest. There will be no farewell at last, I think;' they will not know of me that I lie sick and pass away; and, even if they knew, why should they come to close my dying eyes? the beggar Lazarus can die alone, as he has lived alone. My mother, though, will lack me, ask for me, Claudia will send to bid me hasten, then the word will come "He died this morning," and she will not weep but say "Poor wretch: God rest the parted soul," and turn to soothe my mother with some wile to make her never miss me: and may be Euphemianus will not hear the news, or will not note it if he ever hears. So I shall lie in the grave and they not care, but wait for lost Alexius to come home, and mourn for him, half hating him for their grief. Give me fruit, give me fruit, oh Christ give my earned fruit, for all my sufferings: I have mine for me, but I claim theirs, give fruit for them I smote. Have I written wildly? I will cancel nought. for I have written looking death in face, thinking God bade me write: and words come so 178 must stand untouched. But surely this much grace my Lord hath given me, that they shall know. Behold, I make this paper, being forced as by the Spirit, and it comes on me that God doth choose his highest in the world to be the beggar's messenger: he first, and I the last, so thereto he is called; servant of servants. This, which I have witten, do I entrust to him, my testament: some shall learn patience from it and to do what God bids and not doubt; for all is good, all happy, if it be to do His will, the suffering ye may guess, but not the bliss till ye have tasted it. And I desire that, having scanned the scroll, he shall, or then or later, as seems to his wisdom wise, deliver all its words to them and her, my father and my mother and my wife, (lo, this once in my life I call her so). I pray Thee, Lord, give the poor words the power to comfort them and strengthen; and, I pray, give the words power to strengthen and stir souls which hear Thee call and pause to count with Thee. And now, oh Lord, let earth be dim to me, and Heaven come near mine eyes: the time is short, and I am fain for thee. Lord Jesus come. Now, when Pope Innocent had read the scroll, he bade one with him enter in the house and call the lord Euphemianus thither, and Claudia, and Aglaia. So they came, Aglaia feebly leaning on the two, and questioning them who knew not; so they came; and the Pope pointed them to the dead man, "Behold, for this is one whom you should know." Euphemianus gazed and was perplexed: and the poor purblind mother gazed and peered, "Old Lazarus? no, yes, old Lazarus; 179 asleep or dead? Why is it? is he dead?" but Claudia answered softly "Yes I know; I knew it;" and then, suddenly, borne down by one strong gust of passion, flung herself beside the corpse, her head upon its breast, her arms clasped straining round it, weeping out. And Innocent answered the father's eyes, "This was Alexius, thy long lost son." But yet the father, stricken dumb, looked doubt: Aglaia cried "My boy, where is he then?" and fretfully "This is old Lazarus: where is my boy? show me Alexius." Then Innocent bade peace, and read the scroll: Euphemianus, with his face hid down between his hands, listened and never stirred; and Claudia listened, weeping silently; but Aglaia whispered always "Is it true? is the tale of Lazarus or of my boy? I cannot understand." And, when 'twas read, Euphemianus gazed upon his son, "Yet did he well?" he said "he was our son, he was her husband: how could it be well? for look upon his mother, what she is." But Claudia rose up tearless, and replied "Alexius did all well: he knew God called:" and Innocent, not tearless, raised his hand and spoke "She answers wisely: he obeyed; he knew, being a very saint of God: let us bless God for him." And they all knelt. But still Aglaia could not understand. ~ Augusta Davies Webster

--- IN CHAPTERS (in Dictionaries, in Quotes, in Chapters)

10

   6 Integral Yoga
   3 Poetry
   2 Sufism
   2 Mysticism
   1 Psychology
   1 Philosophy
   1 Christianity


   4 Nolini Kanta Gupta
   2 The Mother
   2 Sri Ramana Maharshi
   2 Satprem
   2 Kabir


   3 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 07
   2 Talks
   2 Songs of Kabir

02.07_-_George_Seftris, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga    O nightingale, nightingale,    What is God? What is not god? What is in-between?9      --       What is God? What is not god? What is in-between?

1.02_-_THE_NATURE_OF_THE_GROUND, #The Perennial Philosophy, #Aldous Huxley, #Philosophy      Who is God? I can think of no better answer than, He who is. Nothing is more appropriate to the eternity which God is. If you call God good, or great, or blessed, or wise, or anything else of this sort, it is included in these words, namely, He is.

1.03_-_The_Divine_and_Man, #Words Of The Mother II, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga   *   What is God?   God is the perfection that we must aspire to realise.

1.05_-_THE_HOSTILE_BROTHERS_-_ARCHETYPES_OF_RESPONSE_TO_THE_UNKNOWN, #Maps of Meaning, #Jordan Peterson, #Psychology   that I described in the first pages of this letter. And heaven, I presume, would be a condition in which   the rational mind subordinates itself to faith in...in God. But what is God?   You have a chapter in the manuscript of your book titled The Divinity Of Interest. Your ideas are

1.439, #Talks, #Sri Ramana Maharshi, #Hinduism   If they are of the best type they at once believe it and firmly abide by faith in God.   But there are others who are not so easily convinced of the truth of the bare statement. They ask: Who is God? What is His nature?   Where is He? How can He be realised? and so on.

1.550_-_1.600_Talks, #Talks, #Sri Ramana Maharshi, #Hinduism      But there are others who are not so easily convinced of the truth of the bare statement. They ask: "Who is God? What is His nature?   Where is He? How can He be realised?" and so on.

1967-05-24.2_-_Defining_God, #Notes On The Way, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga   I have something to add to what we said the other day about   the Divine. Someone asks me: "And what is God?" It is about a   text of Sri Aurobindo. Here it is:

1967-06-07, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga       I have something to add to what we said the other day about the Divine.1 Someone asks me, And whatever is God?      --       Its about the last sentence; someone has asked me, What is God? So Ive replied (taking the word God):

1969-03-12, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga       Ah! (Laughing) And which one is God?

1.hs_-_Someone_Should_Start_Laughing, #Hafiz - Poems, #Hafiz, #Sufism   I have a thousand brilliant lies for the question:   What is God?   If you think that the Truth can be known from words,