In my university days, graduation was always one of the highlights of spring. In India the ceremony of awarding degrees is called convocation because all the faculty of the university are expected to attend, on display with cap and gown and the other colorful medieval regalia retained through centuries of tradition. It was a deeply satisfying sight to see our students march in solemnly with their bright young faces shining with confidence, full of faith in the future, looking forward to what they were going to do with the rest of their lives: enter a career, perhaps help their parents or pay for a younger sister’s education, or make a contribution to a newly independent India.
In the last convocation I attended at the University of Nagpur, degrees were administered in Sanskrit. It was an appropriate reminder that this is a very ancient rite of passage: entry into the second stage of life in the traditional Indian scheme of things, the “householder” stage, in which one takes up a worthy occupation in the heart of society and is expected to marry and raise a family.
This is the traditional view, and not only in India. Every young man or woman entering this stage of life is expected to find a good job, marry well, and generally contribute to the honor and well-being of family and community. And, of course, a good job means the one that pays well or offers a ladder to increasing prestige or influence.
India’s ancient scriptures, however, put this into a spiritual perspective. In this view, life is said to rest on two unshakable pillars. The first is rita, the universal order that keeps the cosmos in harmonious balance from the farthest galaxy to the lives of individual human beings. Rita is closely connected with dharma, the central law that all of life is one indivisible whole. The word dharma comes from the root dhri, “to support”: dharma is what supports us, what holds us together. This universal law is inscribed on every cell of our being, and the proof of it is that the more we live for others, the healthier our body becomes, the calmer our mind becomes, the clearer our intellect becomes, the deeper our love and wisdom become.
The second pillar is yajna, “offering”: not a ritual offering in this context, but the principle of service, giving of oneself for the welfare of others. In practical terms, yajna means that everything we do should be for the welfare of all those around us. This principle of service is what upholds the order of the world, and when it is ignored, the Bhagavad Gita says – that is, when we ignore the welfare of others in the pursuit of personal motives – the very foundations of a society are shaken.
“At the time of creation,” the Bhagavad Gita says, “the Lord gave humanity the path of selfless service.” In other words, we are not given life for our own enjoyment. Our highest duty is to give back to life. Life is a trust, and each of us is a trustee whose job is to use the assets entrusted to us for the greatest benefit to all. It follows that the real mark of an educated man or woman is not university degrees but how much they contribute to the welfare of others, and the question to ask at graduation is not “What job will bring me the best salary or the most prestige?” but “How can I help to make the world a little better for my having lived?”
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In this sense, none of us is ever unemployed. We always have a job to do. We are sent into life for one task: to enrich the lives of others.
The very first criterion for a good job in the Gita’s view, then, is that it not be at the expense of others. The Buddha considered this so important that he made Right Occupation part of his Eightfold Noble Path. It reminds me of the physician’s oath: “First, do no harm.” I think that is a very good oath for all of us to swear by. If we want to improve the quality of our lives, the very first step is to be sure that our livelihood is not gained at the expense of life. Any job that brings injury or suffering to any other creature should be shunned as unworthy of a human being.
“All creatures love life,” the Buddha says. “All creatures fear death. Therefore do not kill, or cause another to kill.” Even if we only lend support to activities that bring harm to other people or other creatures, we are violating the most basic law of life. I am a vegetarian, for example, not merely because of age-old custom, but because I know that the divinity that is present in my heart and yours is present in every living thing.
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When the prefix sva is added to dharma, the word becomes svadharma, our own personal dharma. This is our present context, our present assets and liabilities. On the spiritual path, we start from where we stand by fulfilling our present responsibilities: on the campus, at the office, or in the home. This personal dharma is not fixed; as our spiritual awareness deepens and our capacities grow, our responsibilities and opportunities for service will become greater. What is the right occupation now may not be right later on, but as long as it is not at the expense of others, our job or profession can be made a part of our contribution to life.
It is important to understand that all of us begin work with mixed motives. We want to contribute to the welfare of others; but at the same time, we are concerned with ensuring our own private advantage. It takes quite a while for most of us to become fully aware that our welfare is included in the welfare of all and to realize that when we are working for everybody, we are also ensuring our own well-being.
We all begin the spiritual life with action that is partly egoistic, partly egoless, and none of us need be discouraged when we find in the early days that there is some motive of enlightened self-interest driving us on to action. Without this motive in the beginning, action may be difficult. It is good to accept this from the first. I, too, started my teaching work with some private motives. Although I was devoted to my students, there was a measure of personal motivation also. But I went on giving my very best to my meditation and my students, and gradually, through a lot of effort, I found that my personal motives were dissolving in the overwhelming desire to be of service.