Columnists

Wired & Connected

by I.J. SINGH

 

A friend and I were passing the time of day ruing the vagaries of the service on our cell phones and computers. 

The Internet worked fine when my computer was hard-wired to a modem.  And then I decided to go high tech, so I obtained a router for the modem and went wireless for the computer.  How convenient that now my umbilical cord to the modem would finally be cut.  Like a free bird, I could log on from anywhere in my house.

But it is like free will, that surely exists, but within defined limits.   I think it was Rousseau who rightly complained that "Man is born free, but everywhere he is in chains".

Now I go wireless and the problems are different.  Sometimes, perhaps at the busiest time of day, the computer message tells me that signal strength is too low to connect.  In remote corners of my small house, sometimes the transmission drops in the middle of a message. 

I am left with only two choices: either wait for a better time of day or hunt for a safer area with a more viable connection.  And if I really want a guaranteed connection, I need to plug directly into the modem  -  I need the umbilical cord then.

When I drive around with an earphone plugged into my ear, there are neighborhoods where the cell phone transmission invariably fails; certain turns that I take, or trees I pass under cause cell phones to lose all connectivity.  Once again, I need a hard-wired umbilical cord to my phone, or I must travel to a different corner of my world that would let my connection through.

One day, I was engaged in such idle thoughts  -  akin to doodling -  while wistfully sitting through a religious service at our gurdwara.  And I wondered if I was going through a similar process in coming to grips with the universal connectivity that was the core of the Sikh message, and the goal of the service. 

The router to my mind and soul functioned, but often erratically.  Was the signal weak or was I hiding in a remote corner of my mind, outside the direct range of the router?  Or was my router outmoded?  It could do no harm to have it updated, but how was I to do that? 

The required software is available and it doesn't cost a bundle.  But the most powerful version of the application functions best when it is downloaded in a setting and network of similarly conflicted and needy souls and that, to me, mostly means a gurdwara. 

Moreover, this connection is so easily corrupted by ego, to which the only antidote seems to be constant vigilance that is freely available, but can only be downloaded in a gurdwara or comparable network.

And then the connecting mechanisms need to be plugged in to a power source at periodic intervals. Much as the computer or my cell phone warns me when the battery power is running low and I need to connect to a power source, similarly my connecting mechanisms need regular connections to the power supply that is the network of a finely honed congregation (sangat).  And that often means the local gurdwara.

I believe that pretty much all religions agree on one fundamental basic:  The life of interiority is what they all emphasize, but it is meaningful only when it is the foundation for the external existence. If the connection between the two is lost, no continuity between them exists, and life then loses its meaning and purpose.   I suppose that would be labeled a schizoid existence.

But most religions, in time, seem to become dedicated less to serving as effective routers, modems, connectors, and power sources, and more concerned with the survival and perpetuation of their own institutions.  And then, the message is dropped or corrupted as often as it is faithfully transmitted, while its range of universality becomes rapidly and severely diminished.

This law is inevitable, like death and taxes.  And our gurdwaras are no exception to it.  Gurdwaras, mosques, synagogues, temples and churches  -  all of them  -  no matter where they are, they often function fitfully; they become dysfunctional, at worst, like sealed, opaque black boxes. 

But perhaps it is a good thing that they are not much better than they are.  This may be how religions impart the basic lessons of self-help and humility, even if that is not the intent of the managers of our institutions.

The first fundamental lesson that most religions start with is humility.  That, I think, is the purpose of teaching the virtues of obedience.  Shedding ego and incorporating humility is certainly one of most difficult lessons to learn, and perhaps the easiest to unlearn.

All else comes later and flows from humility and shedding the ego.  When humility is not the anchor of a life, when modesty has lost its place, then greed and avarice, lust and pride automatically surge to occupy the void. 

That's why even a cursory exploration of Sikh teaching repeatedly directs one to these five monsters that destroy even the most purposeful life from within  -  ego, anger, greed, avarice and lust that rob a life of its potential, promise and purpose. 

But the cure is not to ruthlessly root them out, because they are also essential to life; it is to harness them, and never to put them in the driver's seat.

Money is not the root of all evil; the unfettered love of it is.  Anger is not only inevitable, it is at times necessary; the needs of justice demand it.  Greed and avarice come from uncontrolled, blind ambition; therein are the seeds of self-destruction and injustice.  Without lust, life would not continue, but left undisciplined it can only destroy the self and others.  The cure lies in the disease.

Where else to learn these lessons but in the company of others on a similar path?  Where else to find such company but in a congregation (sangat) in mindful purpose?  A classroom, by definition, exists only when a bunch of students are struggling along on the same path, on the same lesson, though not all will be at the same place in the lesson.

Such a classroom is what gurdwaras, temples, mosques, churches and synagogues are meant to be.  Watch them carefully when you enroll! 

Such a class would keep us charged up and connected and, then, our modems and routers would not drop the message quite as often.

How then to keep the modems and routers of our lives charged and functional?  How then to remain connected to the power supply?  Guru Granth sums up the lesson pithily and tersely:

Aakha(n) jiva(n) visrae mer jaao(n)  -  "To stay in awareness of God is to live; to forget this is to die".   [Guru Nanak, GGS, p. 9]

Marnunn bisarnunn Gobindeh, jivanunn har naam dhyavehey  -  "Forgetting God is death; keeping Him in the heart is to live". [Guru Arjan, GGS, p. 1361]

 

January 5, 2008

read other articles in Columnists