What appears to be Swamiji's third letter to Swami Ramakrishnananda (to whom he would address most of his letters from the West, though they were meant for all his brother disciples) was a thunderclap. Its date is not certain, for these Bengali-language letters through which he was giving form and life to his work seldom bore any date at all; as is clear from the original holographs, they were written at top speed, as though the words were cascading from some overflowing source: the date was irrelevant. Very probably, however, this particular letter was written in April or May of 1894, shortly after he had received news of the celebration at the Dakshineswar Temple of Sri Ramakrishna's birthday on March 11. He wrote in flaming impatience over the energy expended in performing ceremonial pujaa and none in serving "the living God." Here one finds Swamiji's teaching of service-as-worship glowing white hot; to him the altar of true worship was as vast as the surface of the earth and its God "every being that wears a human form." If this concept of service had ever been preached before, its everyday practice had never before been urged so insistently (if at all) upon sannyasins.
But if not sannyasins, then who? Very few were the upper ¬or middle-class householders in Swamiji's day who would give so much as a thought to the poor. In ancient times, Hindu society had been structured in such a way-with its four ashramas and its four main castes-that all parts of the social order had been nourished. In that healthy and vigorous system, it was the unquestioned duty, the dharma, of the upper castes to provide for whatever poor there were. There was little want, and no one went hungry for lack of charity. Under these conditions, it had not been necessary for the sannyasin to engage in social work; his duty in the overall scheme of things was to transcend, not to perpetuate, this unreal world. But after the Mohammedan and English conquests, the Hindu social structure had degenerated and, as Swamiji wrote to Alasinga, was "filling the atmosphere of India with its stench." It was no longer the dharma of the rich to help the poor; it was, rather, their privilege to exploit them. Thus only in the sannyasins of India, whose strength (and prestige as well) lay in renunciation, did Swamiji see help ready at hand. "This tremendous power in the hands of the roving Sannyasins of India," he would say at a later date, "has got to be trans¬formed, and it will raise the masses up. He would release that power from forest and mountain fastnesses to rush over the plains and into the villages of India, nourishing them, seeding them with new life. To Swamiji, selfless work was not merely a means of purifying the mind, preliminary to the spiritual practices of renunciation and meditation; it was a spiritual practice in itself, on a par with traditional sadhanas and capable of leading, like them, to the highest spiritual goal. Performed rightly, service of man was a direct and conscious worship of God, as spiritually potent in every respect as worship in a shrine and far more beneficial to the world.
It was this idea, burning in Swamiji's heart and mind, that exploded in this third letter to Swami Ramakrishnananda. "There is no hope for our nation," he began, and continued with a thunder of protest:_x000d_
Not one original idea crosses anyone's brain. . . . My_x000d_
# _x000d_
God! won't you do something to show that you are in any way removed from the common run of men! Only indulging in madness! . . . Today you have your bell, to¬morrow you add a horn and follow suit with a chowry the day after; or you introduce a cot today and tomorrow you have its legs silver-mounted, and people help them¬selves to a rice-porridge, and you spin out two thousand cock-and-bull stories-in short nothing but external cere¬monials. This is called in English imbecility. . . . There is an ocean of difference between idleness and renunciation.
And in sentences that can stand as a manifesto of his Indian work he went on:
If you want any good to come, just throw your cere¬monials overboard and worship the Living God, the Man¬God-every being that wears a human form-God in his universal as well as individual aspect. The universal aspect of God means this world, and worshipping it means serving it-this indeed is work, not indulging in ceremo¬nials. . . . Let some of you spread like fire and preach this worship of the universal aspect of the Godhead-a thing that was never undertaken before in our country. . . .
Spread ideas-go from village to village, from door to door-then only will there be real work. Otherwise, lying complacently on the bed and ringing the bell now and then is a sort of disease, pure and simple. . . . Be independent, learn to form independent judgements. . . . Through the Lord's will, out of your lips shall come millions of Vedas and Tantras and Puranas. . . .
. . . Go from village to village, do good to humanity and to the world at large. Go to hell yourself to buy salvation for others. . . . Don't worry in the least; heaven or hell, or Bhakti or Mukti-don't care for anything, but go, my boy, and spread the name of the Lord from door to door! . . . As Shri Ramakrishna used to love you, as I love you, come, love the world like that....'1'o do the highest good to the world, [to] everyone down to the lowest-this is our vow. Welcome Mukti or hell, whichever comes of it.