It is difficult to forget the day we spent with him, last year: it was sacred to us as his birthday. We had a worship in the ashram gardens at 4 am. There, as we sat spellbound in the beauty of dawn and the silence of nature, he spoke a few words to which we listened as we would to a lyrical song.
The Rishi said: You ask me to speak to you this day. The deepest is never spoken. What is worship? That which is never clothed in words. What is religion? That which transcends all speech. Would you commune with God? Knock, continue to knock at the door of the mystery! The dawn and the sunrise, Krishna and Christ, the benedictions of the Buddha and the aspirations of all the saints are silent. They send out vibrations which you receive as song and music.
To worship is to touch the mystery which reveals to you an infinity in which man is but a grain of sand: and all religions and all prophets are seen as linked together in the one love of God. The true temple excludeth none—not the harijan, the sweeper, not my brother, the bhangi. The true church calleth no man a “heathen” but sees the Krishna and the Christ of love in every soul.
The true mosque is built in the hearts of the seekers, the seers, and the saints.
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