Ramanuja's Ministry Begins

Bhagavad Ramanuja's years of study were now complete. He had always been spiritual before he was intellectual. The naturally spiritual man would now, by means of his intellectual accomplishments, leave the world a lasting legacy in the form of written works. In the beginning he composed three texts that held the principles and practices of the Vaishnava faith: the Gadya-traya (the Three Proses), the Nitya (a manual of daily worship), and a commentary on the Bhagavad Gita. The central doctrine he established in these works is the Oneness of Godhood, expressed by the term Narayana in the Taittiriya Upanishad and elsewhere. Sri Ramanujacharya spread these doctrines to the many who gathered around him, and thus his ministry began.

As a mendicant who had renounced the world, it was Sri Ramanujacharya's practice to visit seven houses each day and gather alms. This alone is what the sannyasin (renunciant) is permitted to live on, according to yati-dharma (the code of monastic life). The rule of alms-begging rests on the idea that the ascetic should own nothing of the world, because ownership binds him again to worldly attachments. It also shows the world that, for the spiritual man, everything worldly is nothing compared to God.

The worldly man ought not to beg, and the spiritual man ought not to hoard. The law is simple: the material man is custodian of the spiritual man's body, and the spiritual man is custodian of the material man's soul. The exchange between them is substance for spirit. A spiritual beggar is therefore no burden on society. Other beggars prey upon the honest labour of others; a spiritual beggar is a benefactor, because his very presence, apart from the influence of his words, lifts people from the gross to the subtle and from the fleeting to the eternal. Such a monk-mendicant was our Sri Ramanujacharya.

We noted that Bhagavad Ramanuja's great aim was to establish the Oneness of Godhood. In doing so he did not abstract God from His universe (the path of mere monism, which ends in negation). Instead, he restored God to His universe in the fullness of His infinite nature. His own practice showed this, even during his begging rounds.

One day, as he passed through the streets of Srirangam, some boys playfully blocked his path. They pointed to a figure scratched in the dust with their toes and said, "Boastful friar, here is your God. If He is everywhere, He must be here too. Worship Him then!" Sri Ramanujacharya was delighted by the boys' sermon. He set down his bowl, bowed fully before the figure on the ground, thanked the boys, and went on his way.

On another occasion he came upon boys imitating the worship at the temple. They had drawn a plan of the Srirangam temple in the dust, with chambers for God, His Consort, and the saints. Having performed regular worship, it was time to offer food to the deities. They gathered road-dust into small heaps and offered it. Such consecrated food, by rule, must then be shared with all worshippers. Seeing Sri Ramanujacharya among them, they cried, "Sire, take God's food!" He fell reverently to the floor, rose, and with both hands received the dust-prasada (consecrated food) before continuing on his way.

Sri Ramanujacharya's stewardship in the temple naturally stirred resentment among some priests. They envied his discipline and his growing influence. "Why not do away with this sannyasin," they thought, "and be free to revel in corruption?" They decided to poison him. At one of the seven houses he visited for alms, they persuaded the owner to mix poison into the food. In India, it is the housewife who doles out alms. The husband ordered her to carry out the deed. She protested, but he insisted, and she had to obey.

When Sri Ramanujacharya arrived, her hands trembled as she handed him the poisoned food. She prostrated abruptly and withdrew with lowered eyes. Her manner that day struck him as odd and roused his suspicion. He placed the food before a dog; the dog grew sick, staggered, and died. "This is sa-gara (food with poison)," cried Sri Ramanujacharya. "Let the poison (gara) return to its birthplace (sagara, the ocean)!" Punning on the word, he cast the food into the waters of the Kaveri flowing nearby.

From that day on, Sri Ramanujacharya fasted. News soon reached G. Purna, who set out from Tirukkottiyur for Srirangam to set matters right before it was too late. He was crossing the dry bed of the Kaveri in the burning midday sun when Sri Ramanujacharya and his chosen disciples went out to meet him and fell prostrate on the hot sand. Purna did not bid him rise.

Kidambi-Achan, a disciple who loved Sri Ramanujacharya deeply and had accompanied him, watched in painful suspense. When he could bear it no longer he cried out to Purna, "Sire! Are these the courtesies between teacher and disciple? Does your code of etiquette demand such cruelty? Does your stony heart require that a tender flower like my Ramanuja should be scorched and roasted before you? I care nothing for your rule!" Then he quickly lifted Sri Ramanujacharya and drew him to his breast.

It had been a moment of agonizing suspense for Purna too, because he was testing to find out who truly loved Sri Ramanujacharya. Looking at Achan with admiring eyes he said, "Achan, you are exactly the man I was looking for. Now that I have found you, my fears for Sri Ramanujacharya's safety are gone. I appoint you his bodyguard. From now on no one but you shall cook for him. That holy duty is yours alone." Kidambi-Achan thus became the Mahanasacharya, Sri Ramanujacharya's Master of the Hearth.

Shielded from further plots, Sri Ramanujacharya taught the philosophy of true religion to every sincere seeker who came. An important event took place around this time. A profound Brahmin scholar named Yajna-murti wandered from place to place, entering debates on subtle points of Vedanta and carrying away the prize of victory every time. He had bathed in the holy Ganga and there too had overcome all disputants. He had taken the one-staff sannyasa, a public declaration that he stood for mayavada (the doctrine that the cosmos is an illusion).

Captivated by his clever arguments, many became his followers, and he grew famous and proud. But he was told that a certain Ramanuja lived at Srirangam, and that his victories would not be complete until he had met him. His vanity was stirred.

He prepared himself mightily. Laden with books and arguments and surrounded by his disciples, he came to Srirangam with all the pomp of a great pandit (learned scholar). Striding up to Sri Ramanujacharya with an egotist's air, he challenged him to debate. Sri Ramanujacharya accepted. "What shall be the wager?" he asked. "If I am defeated," said the philosopher, "I will embrace your faith." "And if you win," said Sri Ramanujacharya, "I will give up my ministry in the world." Eighteen days were fixed for the debate.

For sixteen days the contest raged evenly. But on the seventeenth the balance began to tip toward Yajna-murti, for Sri Ramanujacharya lacked a decisive argument to meet his opponent's fiery volleys. Reading the signs of coming victory, Yajna-murti swelled with pride, left Sri Ramanujacharya as if in contempt, and walked out of the monastery for the day.

Sri Ramanujacharya felt the situation keenly, and a sharp grief entered his heart. Tormented, he shut himself in the chapel, worshipped his Lord Varada in the usual way, and prayed in anguish: "Holy God! If I, a weak mortal, am defeated in this fight, Thy cause can never be defeated. It was established on earth long ago by saints such as Nammazhvar and by sages such as Yamunacharya. Whatever success has come to our dispensation has come by Your will. By Your holy Word, You have been revealed in the full variety of Your essence and manifestation. Now it has pleased You to set a false prophet upon Your world-stage and let him dance. Let it be, if such is Your will."

Imploring thus, he fasted and slept. Lord Varada appeared in a dream and said, "Beloved, do not be grieved. We are giving you a capable helper for your mission. Tomorrow, the last day, use against Yajna-murti all the arguments against mayavada found in the works of your grand-guru Yamuna." Sri Ramanujacharya awoke bounding with joy. He performed the duties of the day, bowed before his chapel-God, and went into the debating hall.

Yajna-murti was already there. The dignified bearing, the stately gait, and the glory of countenance that entered with Sri Ramanujacharya struck terror into him. A sense of defeat came over him at once. "What a contrast," he thought, "between the man I left yesterday and the man I see today! He is coming toward me with the majesty of a rutting elephant. This is extraordinary. He must be more than human." Instinctively he rose, stepped forward, and cried, "Sire, no more words between us, I beg. I confess I am beaten." He placed Sri Ramanujacharya's sandals on his head and implored to be accepted into his holy fold.

"What is this?" said Sri Ramanujacharya, surprised. "I did not expect this from you. Our case is still open; let us argue it through and see where it leads." "Pardon me, Sire," said Yajna-murti, "no more fighting. When I actually see that you are one with God, I dare not open my mouth."

Even so, Sri Ramanujacharya set forth the argument he had prepared: "Mayavada, the doctrine of illusion, necessarily strips God (Para-brahman) of every attribute. But Scripture gives us no support for an attributeless God. Texts such as 'God is Truth' become untruthful. If you reply that God has attributes only because He is conditioned by avidya (ignorance), then how shall such a God, whose light is eternally darkened by that ignorance, ever be rid of it? If you say, 'what of it?', you trap yourself. You have then set up two eternal realities, God and ignorance, knowledge and non-knowledge, which is dualism. In trying to establish monism, you have necessarily negated everything except Brahman, yet in that very act you have posited a duality, ignorance, which eternally thwarts Brahman. The pampered elephant of advaita (monism) gets stuck, quite unknowingly, in the mire of dualism."

Yajna-murti followed the exposition in rapt attention. When it ended he broke his staff and bowed, amazed to find himself added as a golden convert to the Vaishnava faith. He was renamed Devaraja-muni, or Devarat.

Sri Ramanujacharya led him to Sri Ranganatha's temple, where he was given all the honors due a member of the faith, and then brought him to the monastery. There he was introduced to the worship of Lord Varada and given consecrated food from that worship. The partaking of prasada completed the initiation, and the convert became part of the Vaishnava community. He was led through the study of the Prabandhas (sacred Tamil hymns) and other inner teachings, and the love-religion of the Vaishnavas was unfolded before him until his heart melted and his intellect bowed.

In Devarat, Sri Ramanujacharya gained a great reinforcement. His flock was now brilliant, for Devarat joined the other two jewels of the band, Dasarathi and Kuresa. With these men classes in philosophy were ably conducted. Sri Ramanujacharya's fame spread far. Anandazhvan (also called Anantasuri), Ecchan, Tondanur-Nambi, and Marudur-Nambi hurried to become his disciples. When they came, he sent them to Devarat for initiation. Devarat obeyed, but declared that Sri Ramanujacharya was loading heavy stones onto the neck of a poor sparrow! "Beware," he told the new disciples. "I am only his vassal, his instrument. Ramanuja is your true Saviour. Forget me; remember him."