Printed in the Spring 2023 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Sugg, Judith, "The Useful God" Quest 111:2, pg 25-27
By Judith Sugg
Is it sacrilege to say that one’s personal god is a practical device? Religious and spiritual traditions prefer a more numinous vocabulary for God, and words like practical and sensible are rarely used. Yet human perceptions, cognition, and emotions can embrace a personal god with grace while balking at mystical notions of the Absolute.
Perhaps differing conceptions of God are not at odds with each other; perhaps they are both needed. There is value in a concept of God that links the transcendent to the psychological, ties spirit to everyday thought and action, and strengthens spiritual resolve. Such a relationship may spark the peak experiences that help buoy spiritual intentions. Even if we eschew the word God for Brahman or the Absolute, the linkage of the spiritual and psychological is one way to remove obstacles on our spiritual journey.
The Potential of Human Perception
Our psychological skill in perceiving and interpreting events is undervalued. Humans can be fully cognizant of their perceptions and emotions, their own distinctive standpoint. When a person is aware of their sensations and mental state, it is easier to be clear and congruent. We know ourselves from our own vantage point.
We can also empathize, imagining how it might be with another person. Our language speaks of “entering another’s space” or “stepping into another’s shoes.” We begin to feel what the other feels and how the other interprets the situation. This perceptional shift can blur rigid boundaries between self and other. It gives us insight into the other and contributes to a sense of compassion.
These two skills—awareness of self and understanding of others—are part of emotional intelligence. Humans have yet another ability: we can shift to a more neutral, detached, and strategic mindset by stepping out of our mental and emotional shoes and observing as if from a distance. We do this in meditation when we monitor our thoughts dispassionately. We also do this when we reflect deeply or analyze a puzzling situation, and it almost always requires an attitude of curiosity. In this detached space, our body, thoughts, and emotions are less intriguing and closer to neutral.
Compassion combines the ability to observe and to simultaneously be aware of the other. Holding both the awareness of self and understanding of the other together frees us from both self-absorption and cold detachment.
However, these perceptual faculties are feeble instruments for understanding that which is beyond the physical, like the idea of the Absolute. H.P. Blavatsky defined Brahman as impersonal, incapable of being known by our human capabilities, without beginning or end, all-pervading, animating everything. The Upanishads tell us that Brahman cannot be understood by the senses, by thought, by knowledge, or by learning, because Brahman is inconceivable, in all, of all. The Upanishads famously conclude that atman is “not this, it is not that. It is unseizable, for it cannot be seized; indestructible, for it cannot be destroyed; unattached, for it does not attach itself; is unbound” (Hume, 147). Words are, by their very nature, bound. How can they describe that which is not bound?
The Useful God
The word God has meant many things to me. I have tried religious and cultural notions of God, such as a savior, a punisher, an enigma, an old man, everything, or everything except the bad. God was outside of humans. God was inside. I was God. I was the opposite of God.
As I studied yoga, the possibility of a practical God emerged. The eightfold path of yoga, as taught in the Yoga Sutras, appealed to my rational mind. While the intensity of practice prescribed was far beyond my capabilities, the text felt alive, relevant, and authentic.
The eightfold path encompasses ethics, body, breath, and meditation and prescribes a steady, intense path towards spiritual freedom. The physical postures are a limited part of the whole practice—valid for most students, but not the heart of the system. Because the text is the culmination of the experiences of many yogis, the common pitfalls in practice and their symptoms are well documented.
Practice starts with ethical vows designed to align the individual’s thoughts and actions with the goal of yoga. Self-study, meaning insightful examination of the personality and spiritual practices, results in union with the chosen deity, or Ishvara (a term whose meaning I will explain below). Devotion to Ishvara, one of five internal disciplines, requires perfecting attention to the omniscient seer within. Concentration is perfected, leading to deeper, more significant spiritual insights.
The Bhagavad Gita, the other foundational text of yoga, merges myriad conflicting attitudes and practices to help clarify spiritual goals. It validates the gut-wrenching decisions humans face daily and inspires the reader to continue through the conflict. Krishna is the guide, and even when humans (exemplified by Krishna’s interlocutor, the hero Arjuna) are ignorant of Krishna’s presence, he is still there to guide us.
While the Gita speaks to all, the Yoga Sutras targets its audience more narrowly. It assumes an audience of passionate practitioners drawn intensely to a path of spiritual liberation. The text wastes little time on the conditions of the world. It’s the bullet train to the goal, although it is expensive in terms of commitment and rigorous training.
The philosophy of yoga is closely aligned with that of the Samkhya. In the Theosophical tradition, we hear the word Samkhya, but we rarely study the seminal texts directly. Samkhya defines a path of enlightenment which involves a practice of discriminating between the real from the not real. Like yoga philosophy, it has evolved and incorporated new ideas over time.
Classical Samkhya is dualistic in explaining the unfolding of the universe, including the functioning of a human. It is considered the oldest Indian philosophical school: the earliest complete Samkhya text was written about 2,000 years ago, close to the time of the Yoga Sutras. This classical text, the Samkhya Karika, posits the existence of two fundamental principles: pure consciousness or Self (purusha) and materiality (prakriti), terms widely used in Theosophical material.
In the presence of both principles, nature explodes into the multitude of forms we experience. In the Samkhya, the world extravagantly expresses the three foundational characteristics (gunas) of materiality. This evolution is enumerated in great detail in the Samkhya Karika. The two principles are real; they exist. Their proximity permits this evolution, this unfolding of the material world. However, nothing is created, and there is no mention of God, leading some to conclude that the text is atheistic.
Samkhya explains the unfolding universe; yoga, taken from the individual’s point of view, is the reversal of evolution towards freedom. In the practice of yoga, the individual identifies the confusion that causes such suffering. Our mental gyrations, egotism, and ignorance of our true nature caused this confusion (avidya). Revealing this confusion requires a practice that melts the material aspects of life, revealing the purity beneath. Yogis refine their consciousness by removing the gross, then the subtle, threads of the world, personality, and personal ego. Yoga is the process of stilling the mind, say the Yoga Sutras. What is left can shine alone as pure consciousness when the mind is still.
The Yoga Sutras adopt much from Samkhya, but one significant exception is the inclusion of devotion to Ishvara. The meaning of this word is subtly different depending on where or how it is used. Writers have translated it as the Divine Lord, Lord of the Universe, God of your choosing, and personal god. The word Ishvara appears in the later Upanishads, along with Brahman, the absolute Reality. Brahman is the Absolute; Ishvara is Brahman manifested in the world, in individuals, but still eternal and unlimited.
The Yoga Sutras describe Ishvara as untouched by karma and thus always liberated, of infinite intelligence, the guru of the sages, and timeless. OM is the vibration or frequency, the mystical sound of Ishvara. When a person is absorbed in the vibration and realizes its meaning, obstacles to liberation are removed. What are these obstacles? They are our well-known human failings in attention, intention, and groundedness in spiritual practice. Some commentators view the addition of Ishvara as a nod to theism. Is Ishvara the same as God? Does Ishvara have a personality?
Over centuries, philosophers have argued these points as if winning with words meant discovering the truth. It is easy to forget that words are merely symbols and creations of the mind. They create distinctions and categories in a way that is critical to our operations in everyday life but not to Reality itself. “When we go into the domain of metaphysics and try to represent Reality with symbols of our phenomenal conceptions, we have to commit almost a violence to it” (Dasgupta, 30). This violence is a product of our willingness to substitute thoughts and words for Reality and then base our identity, beliefs, and actions on this shaky foundation.
Why include Ishvara in a practice manual such as the Yoga Sutras? This inquiry raises the question of purpose: what is the concept of Ishvara useful for? In the sibling schools of Samkhya and yoga, and Indian philosophy in general, the aim is almost always enlightenment, freedom, removal of ignorance of who we are, freedom from ego, or liberation. Yoga formulates the problem of ignorance of our true nature, offering a working path to freedom.
A personal god bridges this divide between problem and process. Ishvara is a purusha (or Self) like us, but it is not touched by time or stained by karma. As an individual purusha—not Brahman—Ishvara is pure. Imagine, if you will, a being with no history, no entanglements, no memory or future.
For those with strong beliefs about God in any form, yoga’s inclusion of Ishvara may give relief or dismay. The inclusion is important, but it is not the text’s focus. Ishvara, or devotion to Ishvara, is mentioned in about a dozen verses out of 196 verses in the Yoga Sutras. Ishvara is not the central theme in yoga, nor is it excluded. Ishvara is there for a purpose.
To use the language of the Yoga Sutras, our attention is honed to the point at which we see, with steadiness, the object of our attention. We are seen, and the “we” is merged into seeing. We use the support of Ishvara as a child might use training wheels to keep attention and intention strong. Step by step, we are challenged to focus and release the boundaries that construct our personality. We lose the division of the inside and outside of the body. We let go of words and concepts, and in the stillness, we relinquish the mission that sends us to find a practice or path. We simply are.
Attention is closely linked to love. Contemplation of Ishvara is simply and purely love. Love is not theoretical. In practice, it goes through the cycle of meditation and samadhi: first, a focus on love, overt and subtle, then a continual stream of love. The yogi becomes both the loved and the beloved, then simply the existence of love.
Our language generally demands an object—a person, a place, a child, an activity, or a concept. Beyond this subject-object formula, we might say there is a state of love. Our attention to Ishvara is love, first clunky, egotistical, and needy, then subtler, and finally with boundaries obscured. Spiritual liberation in this tradition is sometimes said to be the process of becoming like Ishvara. This idea is clearly linked to descriptions of love in the Gita, because both honor the value of this practice.
Psychological Value of a Personal God
What is the psychological value of a personal god? I am reminded of a quip from a therapist friend who specialized in marriage counseling. She said a couple might say, “We are one” in the first few months of marital bliss. After problems begin, however, each partner thinks, “Yes, we are one, but it is me who is the one!”
Despite good intentions, we have trouble sustaining a sense of wholeness. Peak experiences in which we feel one with nature or the universe give us a vision of unity, but the picture quickly drifts away. Similarly, the ability to be totally in the sensation of the body—a skill honed in mindfulness training—can shut down the internal dialogue. For those moments without mental chatter, the release and freedom are astounding. Then, all too quickly, memories, plans, and emotions restart the ego’s chatter.
We started this discussion by identifying the psychological skill of shifting perspective from self to others, then to observation. We acknowledge our feelings and state; we empathize and attend to others, and we are objective as the observer, viewing life perhaps a little like a consultant. A personal god provides us an entry to using these skills to begin to know Reality both overtly and subtly. We may view God or Ishvara as having form, as the subject of our attention, and begin to feel the possibility of similarity. We recognize the gap between the purity of Ishvara and our karmic state of confusion. As we sit with this, we can begin to sense or taste the vastness of the love of this Other. Eventually, we begin to experience it as ourselves, inside of us and out, without boundaries.
To experience love without an object for any length of time is immensely difficult. Petty or distracted thoughts quickly seep in and carry the mind away. To experience consciousness without an object is equally demanding. We may have moments of purity or clarity, but they rarely stay long. However, by creating the habit of devotion, we can make distractions, defensiveness, and ego-involvement subside. That is an exquisite example of removing obstacles to freedom.
Dasgupta, Surendranath. Yoga as Philosophy and Religion. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1995.
Hume, Robert E., ed. and trans. The Thirteen Principal Upanishads. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. 2002.
Judith Sugg, PhD, is a counselor, psychology instructor, and yoga teacher. Her graduate work was in the psychology of yoga and the Samkhya, and she wrote the Study Guide for the Yoga Sutras for the Theosophical Society.