Today, May 13th, is the Mahasamadhi of my mentor, the late Bede Griffiths who crossed over to that further shore this day in 1993. Bede was my spiritual father and, in many ways, a guru-figure in my life. I say guru figure because he did not encourage people to treat him like a guru; however, he inspired the sense of it from local illiterate villagers to brilliant scientists and theologians, including Rupert Sheldrake and Raimundo Pannikar. I was blessed not only to spend about five years in direct study with him, but extended portions of each year after I left India in 1989. Bede lived with Asha and I for almost four months each year (1990 – 1992) and our sense of the sacred grew with each visit, for this man had an extraordinary capacity to sense the divine presence at all times and all places and this intense awareness drew everyone around him into its sphere of influence.
My book Jesus in the Lotus began as a personal memoir that he had commissioned me to write shortly before he passed on. However, that work evolved into its present state over a three-year period of working continuously on it. There are many anecdotes that I share in this book about my relationship with Bede Griffiths. Here is one of my favorites for your reading pleasure …
I emerged from my dark night in stages, as if I were
climbing out of a deep hole. At each step of the way, something
happened to catalyze an inner shift that left me better
able to make the final breakthrough. The process began
when I had the opportunity to travel with Bede Griffiths
and be constantly at his side for more than a week.
The administrator of the ashram asked if I would be
willing to accompany Bede to an interreligious conference
in the city of my birth, where the Dalai Lama and a host of
other dignitaries from around the world were going to
discuss spirituality together for a week. I readily accepted,
excited about the opportunity to encounter so many spiritual
luminaries in such an intimate setting and perhaps
revive my inner life.
We set out by a specially arranged taxicab and stopped
on the way for a cup of tea at a local tea stall. The eyes of
the patrons popped as they watched Bede enter the tiny
space, which was blackened by soot from the kitchen and
littered with garbage. A group of children gathered outside
to watch this English sahib dressed as a Hindu holy man
drink his tea from a tall dirty glass. Bede was oblivious of the
attention he was attracting, or maybe he was ignoring it,
but he was very present to people at the same time, smiling
and greeting them in a personal way whenever there was
eye contact. For my part, I was reeling from the amount of
energy moving around and through us for those few short
minutes.
On our way back to the car, a beggar approached us for
alms. Bede put his hand into his small suede purse and
pulled out a rupee coin. The beggar was surprised and, in
typical Indian beggar fashion, was about to demand more,
when his eyes connected with Bede’s. Without accepting
the coin, the man fell down at his feet and prostrated right
in the middle of the street, holding up traffic. There was a
cacophonous sound of horns, and people hung out of bus
windows to catch a glimpse of this white man in saffron
robes blessing a beggar in the middle of a busy intersection.
It was like a religious ceremony, and I could not help feeling
that I was with someone extraordinary.
The conference was held at the Madras Christian College,
a Protestant establishment, and we settled quickly into
the room that we were about to share for the week, what
with having hardly anything to unpack. Each of us carried
a cloth bag with one spare set of unstitched monastic clothing.
That evening I met many spiritual dignitaries from
around the world, but the most precious experience of all
was the private time I had with Bede, especially meditating
with him twice a day.
We had meditated together at the ashram on numerous
occasions, but then I had been absorbed in the techniques I
was practicing. Now, just about all I could do was to watch
this holy man meditate. Bede would sit on a chair, his spine
straight and his hands placed on his thighs. Then slowly, as
the meditation period unfolded, his palms would join and
his body would begin to lean forward, as though it were
responding to an unseen touch of some kind. There was a
distinctive change in the atmosphere when this happened.
Day after day, I witnessed this encounter, until finally I
asked Bede about it. “What happens during your meditation?”
I asked. “What technique do you use?” He explained
that he used the full form of the Jesus prayer, in English,
during meditation. Then he explained that his primary spiritual
practice — not only during meditation but also
throughout the day — was “the practice of the presence of
God.” I asked him how I could learn this method, and in
reply Bede recommended a book with precisely the same
title, The Practice of the Presence of God.
I continued to meditate with him each day, but could
not help spending most of the time observing him. There
was something more than mere technique happening here
— which was evident from the loss of formal meditation
posture — and the best way I can describe it is to compare
it to a lover responding to the touch of his or her beloved.
Bede was making contact with something during his meditation,
and more important, that something was simultaneously
reaching out to him. In hindsight, I think the
experience of being with Bede while he meditated touched
something deep inside me that was beyond the ability of
my conscious mind to understand, and this prepared me
for what was to follow …
The Practice of the Presence of God
Copyright Russill Paul and New World Library 2006, Jesus in the Lotus: The Mystical Doorway between Christianity and Yogic Spirituality
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