Swami Vivekananda's inspiring personality was well
known both in India and in America during the last decade of
the nineteenth century and the first decade of the
twentieth. The unknown monk of India suddenly leapt into fame
at the Parliament of Religions held in Chicago in 1893,
at which he represented Hinduism. His vast knowledge
of Eastern and Western culture as well as his deep
spiritual insight, fervid eloquence, brilliant conversation,
broad human sympathy, colourful personality, and
handsome figure made an irresistible appeal to the many types
of Americans who came in contact with him. People who
saw or heard Vivekananda even once still cherish his
memory after a lapse of more than half a century.
In America Vivekananda's mission was the
interpretation of India's spiritual culture, especially in
its Vedantic setting. He also tried to enrich the
religious consciousness of the Americans through the rational
and humanistic teachings of the Vedanta philosophy. In
America he became India's spiritual ambassador and
pleaded eloquently for better understanding between India and
the New World in order to create a healthy synthesis of
East and West, of religion and science.
In his own motherland Vivekananda is regarded
as the patriot saint of modern India and an inspirer of
her dormant national consciousness. To the Hindus he
preached the ideal of a strength-giving and
man-making religion. Service to man as the visible manifestation of
the Godhead was the special form of worship he
advocated for the Indians, devoted as they were to the rituals
and myths of their ancient faith. Many political leaders of
India have publicly acknowledged their indebtedness to
Swami Vivekananda.
The Swami's mission was both national and
international. A lover of mankind, he strove to promote
peace and human brotherhood on the spiritual foundation of
the Vedantic Oneness of existence. A mystic of the highest
order, Vivekananda had a direct and intuitive experience
of Reality. He derived his ideas from that unfailing source
of wisdom and often presented them in the
soul-stirring language of poetry.
The natural tendency of Vivekananda's mind, like
that of his Master, Ramakrishna, was to soar above the
world and forget itself in contemplation of the Absolute.
But another part of his personality bled at the sight of
human suffering in East and West alike. It might appear that
his mind seldom found a point of rest in its oscillation
between contemplation of God and service to man. Be that as it
may, he chose, in obedience to a higher call, service to man
as his mission on earth; and this choice has endeared him
to people in the West, Americans in particular.
In the course of a short life of thirty-nine years
(1863-1902), of which only ten were devoted to public
activities — and those, too, in the midst of acute physical
suffering — he left for posterity his four classics:
Jnana-Yoga, Bhakti-Yoga,
Karma-Yoga, and Raja-Yoga, all
of which are
outstanding treatises on Hindu philosophy. In addition, he delivered
innumerable lectures, wrote inspired letters in his own
hand to his many friends and disciples, composed
numerous poems, and acted as spiritual guide
to the many seekers who came to him for instruction. He also organized
the Ramakrishna Order of monks, which is the most
outstanding religious organization of modern India. It
is devoted to the propagation of the Hindu spiritual
culture not only in the Swami's native land, but also in
America and in other parts of the world.
Swami Vivekananda once spoke of himself as
a 'condensed India.' His life and teachings are of
inestimable value to the West for an understanding of the mind of
Asia. William James, the Harvard philosopher, called the
Swami the 'paragon of Vedantists.' Max Müller and Paul
Deussen, the famous Orientalists of the nineteenth century, held
him in genuine respect and affection. 'His words,'
writes Romain Rolland, 'are great music, phrases in the style
of Beethoven, stirring rhythms like the march of
Handel choruses. I cannot touch these sayings of his, scattered
as they are through the pages of books, at thirty
years' distance, without receiving a thrill through my body
like an electric shock. And what shocks, what transports,
must have been produced when in burning words they
issued from the lips of the hero!'