The result is that, in all instances, their great teachings come to us as a recaptured oral history, written down by their followers as remembered details. In some instances this occurred hundreds of years after the fact. As important as their teaching mission for God was, why were these teachings left to such chance, such potential for ambiguity and therefore misunderstanding or misrepresentation?
Language is an imperfect art, and is anything but a definitive way of accurately communicating a thought between two people. Communicating a thought accurately in written form, without benefit of inflection, body language, tone or immediate give-and-take feedback is even more difficult, creating even greater opportunities for mis-communication. Virtually all of the written teachings from each of these four Masters came as notes from their public talks, not from meticulously thought out creations of the scholarly written word. In public discourse, these Masters could rely on all the verbal nuances to accompany their teachings. In such settings, they knew that their listeners would be focusing on the comprehensive purpose, finding the overall point, of their message, not analyzing and agonizing over each tiny word particle and its many potentially shaded meanings.
Which is just what we see happening today. Academic scholars, religious school instructors, and clerical leaders spend untold hours debating word etymologies and arguing over “precise” meanings and their diverse interpretations. It is as if one particular word or phrase – likely translated through multiple languages several times over – is thought to hold the key to ultimate spiritual meaning. Meanwhile, the real point of simply “be kind to one another” gets lost in the analytical exercise. These Master Teachers spoke of spiritual forests; people today often fight about religious trees. Which is why those Teachers avoided the temptation of the written page, knowing that such exercises would be best left to their followers to come.
When we do reading meditation, we avoid such limited wordsmanship. We return to, and hear anew, the original lessons these Teachers spoke to us. We read slowly, deeply, and repetitively enough so that we give up the words. Instead, we listen to the sentences, hear the paragraphs, and then finally understand the meanings that these Teachers gave to us. Words are the gymnastics of the mind. The paragraphs are the messages of God. Listen for the real point. Consider that point deeply. Thereby, walk a step closer on the path to being as One with God.