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On Being and Becoming a Sikh
For over twenty years it has been gnawing at me. Some
of us were sitting around discussing for the umpteenth time the politics of our
Gurdwara in New York. One of us--bright, young, ambitious, highly educated, better
read on Sikhism than most of us but unfortunately not a recognisable Sikh--blurted out,
"I am just as good a Sikh as any of you, if not better. I have read more about
it than perhaps all of you put together." The boast rankled me. Quick as
a whip, I lashed out:
"Any Sikh who claims to be a good Sikh is not." It sounded apt and
clever. It certainly hit the mark. Everybody laughed except the poor
target. It has been twenty years but he never spoke with me again. Many times
I have thought about that day and what it means to be a Sikh.
A farmer dies and his farm goes to his child. A tradesman can leave his shop and a
businessman his business, to his progeny. The shop and the profession
continue. One can confer an inheritance of millions, even a legacy of generations of
Sikh history to one's family. One may bestow truckloads, tons of books and libraries
of literature on Sikhism. But can one award the spirit of Sikhism to one's children?
There are families which have for generations treasured hand-written letters and documents
by Guru Nanak, Guru Gobind Singh or others close to the Gurus. There are many who
claim to be descended from one Guru or another who travel around India from village to
village collecting donations from gullible Sikhs who feel honoured by the touch of the son
of a son of a son of a son of a Guru. Can that make them good Sikhs?
Isn't it best, as Abraham Lincoln is reputed to have said, to be less anxious about who
your grandfather was and more concerned with what his grandson is up to? If the sons
of Guru Gobind Singh were brimming with the spirit of Sikhism, it was not because they
were the sons of a Guru. Other sons of other Gurus have found no place in our hearts
or in our history. Where others had failed, the sons of the tenth Guru had
assimilated the lessons of Sikhism. They had earned Sikhism, not inherited it.
The sons of Guru Gobind Singh are remembered every day in our prayers not because they
were sons of a Guru but because they had worked their way into the marrow of our
collective consciousness. Many other sons of other Gurus were quickly forgotten and
merited unmarked graves.
It is true that you cannot take the material things of life with you; you can bequeath
them to your descendants, friends or a worthier cause. If you don't, the government
might steal a chunk. But it is also true that you cannot donate to anybody else the
spirit of Sikhism that you have integrated within yourself. One cannot inherit
Sikhism for that is not how Sikhs are made. One can be born in a Sikh
household. One can acquire the Sikh uniform. One can even learn the protocol,
formality and etiquette of the religion. All that does not make a Sikh. The
rituals that one masters remain exactly that--rituals; the uniform, a disguise or an empty
shell. Only the individual prayer and the Guru's grace may transform them into
sacraments, and the best prayer is honest self-effort.
By teaching, by example and through the Guru Granth, the Gurus have shown the student Sikh
how best to direct his individual efforts. But each person has to discover the path
by and for himself. This voyage of discovery is an inner journey and a lovely one
which every pilgrim must undertake on his own. The lives of the Gurus and the
teachings of the Guru Granth provide a map only. The map has to be read and the path
chalked by each traveller himself. And for the pilgrim who sets foot on the
seemingly lonely path honestly and boldly, the Guru promises to show the way and provide
the finest company.
It is no coincidence that the religion is called Sikhism and the followers
Sikhs--literally, students. It is a constant reminder that the Sikh, to be true to
his label, cannot afford to be anything but a student all his life. He or she
remains a student of the way of life as enunciated by the Gurus. Quite simply then,
the emphasis shifts from being a Sikh to the developmental direction of becoming
one. And the continuous, ongoing, life-long, active process of
metamorphosis--internal change--becomes the focus.
One also becomes aware that Sikhism is not now a static or dormant
discipline nor was it ever. For the two hundred years from Guru Nanak to Guru Gobind
Singh, it remained in a state of continuous flux and development. Now three hundred
years after Guru Gobind Singh, Sikhism continues to grow and wrestle with new issues that
engage it--from ecology, peace and disarmament, gender and racial discrimination to the
population explosion, reproductive rights and AIDS are matters that affect us all.
Not that Sikhism ever does or should take clear, unvarying positions on many of these
matters, but it provides the Sikh a highly developed, structured sense of ethics so that
individually or collectively, he can make responsible choices in all things. Sikhism
acknowledges that many of the judgements that we make today on these and other issues
might change in time and with individual circumstances and greater social or scientific
awareness.
What does it mean to be a good Sikh? An excellent student
is one who has never yet failed an examination. But that record of success speaks
only of the past, the future is yet to be. Even the best student will falter, and
fail a test, sometimes. The glory lies not in never falling but in rising every time
one falls. It is a never ending process. There are many stages in all aspects
of one's development--be it physical, mental, psychological, spiritual or even
financial. Life shows many milestones in its path; they are like the rites of
passage. In one's professional growth, a diploma is hardly the end of learning and
growing. In reality it marks only the beginning of a life-long career, a commitment
in which one continues to develop as one practices the profession over the years. A
true professional can ill afford to be anything but a student all his life.
By this reasoning, even the rite of confirmation in the Sikh religion (Amrit) becomes a
rite of passage, an important rung in that ladder and a stage in the developmental process
of becoming a Sikh. For a confirmed (Amritdhari) Sikh to become haughty or smug of
his status or self-satisfied and vain of his dedication would be unbecoming. He has
reached a recognisable, enviable and honourable rung on the ladder, but the ladder is tall
and its end nowhere in sight. While we can commend him for his efforts and progress,
a little feeling for the path yet untravelled would be more seemly on his part. A
sense of gratitude to God from whom all things flow coupled with a little humility is
necessary, for anyone might slip.
In essence, every Sikh is a convert to the religion, being born into it
merely gives one a head start on the rules and the layout of the track, if one chooses; it
does not automatically make one into a winner. Being a Sikh is often only an
accident of birth; the developmental process of becoming a Sikh is indeed much more
significant. Sikhs are not born but made.
from Sikhs and Sikhism by I
J Singh (New York, USA) |
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