The Sage Who Knew the Self

The sages told the Pandavas of Yajnavalkya, the great sage of King Janaka's court at Mithila - the deepest of knowers, who silenced the wisest in debate, was questioned by a woman philosopher before all the assembly, and taught his own wife the secret of the deathless Self before he gave up the world. It is a tale of the highest wisdom of the seers.

In the kingdom of Videha, at Mithila, ruled King Janaka, a royal sage who loved wisdom and gathered learned men about him. And the greatest of all the knowers of Brahman in that age was Yajnavalkya, a sage of overwhelming learning and spiritual power, who had penetrated to the very heart of the truth of the Self. His wisdom was so great that none could stand against him in debate, and kings and sages alike came to learn from him; yet his deepest teachings he gave not to win arguments but to lead souls to the deathless reality beyond all things.

Once King Janaka performed a great sacrifice, and many learned brahmanas came from many lands. The king, wishing to know who among them was the wisest, set apart a thousand cows, and to the horns of each he bound pieces of gold, and he declared, 'Let whoever among you is the most learned in the knowledge of Brahman drive away these cattle.'

The assembled sages were silent, none daring to claim to be the wisest before so many. But Yajnavalkya simply told his pupil, 'Drive the cattle home.' The pupil drove them away, and the other sages were furious. 'How dare he call himself the most learned?' they cried; and one after another they rose to challenge him, to question him and overthrow him before the assembly, that he might be shown unworthy of the prize he had claimed. So began a great contest of wisdom, in which the deepest knowers of the age put their hardest questions to Yajnavalkya, one after another - and one after another he answered them all, until the assembly fell silent and none dared question him further.

Among the assembly was a woman of great learning named Gargi Vachaknavi, a philosopher whose knowledge of the scriptures was equal to that of any man there. She rose and challenged Yajnavalkya, and put to him a series of deep and probing questions about the ground of all existence - asking on what all things are woven, like the warp and woof of a cloth.

'On what,' she asked, 'is the whole world woven, warp and woof?' 'On water, Gargi,' he answered. 'And on what is water woven?' 'On the wind.' 'And the wind?' 'On the sky.' And so she pressed him, level above level, world above world, region above region - the sky on the worlds of the sky-spirits, those on the worlds of the sun, those on the worlds of the moon, those on the worlds of the stars, and on and on, each answer met by a further question, as she drove the inquiry higher and higher toward the ultimate ground of all. The woman philosopher questioned the great sage as a fearless equal, climbing with him toward the very foundation of the universe.

Gargi pressed on, until she reached the highest worlds and asked, 'On what are the worlds of Brahman woven?' And here Yajnavalkya gave her a warning: 'Gargi, do not question too far, lest your head fall off. You are asking about a reality beyond which one must not question, a truth that is not to be reached by endless questioning but only known when it is known. Do not over-question.' And Gargi, recognizing the truth of his warning, fell silent for a time.

But later in the assembly she rose again and said to the gathered sages, 'Revered brahmanas, I will ask this Yajnavalkya two questions; and if he can answer them, none of you will ever overcome him in debate about Brahman.' And then she put to him the deepest question of all: that upon which all things are woven, the imperishable ground of everything. And Yajnavalkya answered her with the great teaching of the Imperishable: that there is an ultimate reality, unseen yet the seer of all, unheard yet the hearer of all, unknown yet the knower of all, at whose command the whole order of the universe holds together; and that this Imperishable is the unwoven ground on which all things are woven. Gargi, hearing this, was satisfied, and declared to the assembly that none could surpass him.

King Janaka himself questioned Yajnavalkya, eager to learn the nature of the Self and the way to the highest freedom; and the sage led him step by step toward the truth. He taught that the Self is the inmost light of a person, the light by which one sees and acts when sun and moon and fire have all set - the light of the Self within.

And when the king pressed him to describe this ultimate Self, this Brahman, Yajnavalkya taught the great way of negation: that the Self can never be grasped or described by any positive thing, for it is the ground of all things and so is beyond them all. 'It is not this, not this' - neti, neti - he said: not anything that can be named or pointed to, for it is the unseen seer, the ungrasped grasper, the unknown knower behind all knowing. It cannot be described as being this or that, for it is that by which all this is known, and the knower can never be made an object of knowledge. So he led the king beyond every image and every name to the silence in which alone the Self is known - the reality that can only be pointed to by saying what it is not.

When Yajnavalkya resolved at last to give up his household life and go forth as a wandering renunciate, he wished to divide his property between his two wives, Maitreyi and Katyayani, before he departed. He called Maitreyi and said, 'I am about to go forth from this place. Let me make a settlement between you and Katyayani.'

But Maitreyi, who loved wisdom more than wealth, asked him, 'My lord, if this whole earth full of riches were mine, would I become immortal through it?' 'No,' said Yajnavalkya. 'Your life would be like the life of the rich; but of immortality there is no hope through wealth.' Then Maitreyi said, 'What should I do with that which would not make me immortal? Tell me, my lord, rather, what you know of the deathless.' And Yajnavalkya, glad of her question, said, 'Dear you have always been to me, and now you speak what is dear. Come, sit, and I will explain it to you; and as I expound, meditate on what I say.' And he taught her the highest secret he knew.

Yajnavalkya taught Maitreyi the secret of love and of the Self. 'It is not for the sake of the husband that the husband is dear,' he said, 'but for the sake of the Self that the husband is dear. It is not for the sake of the wife that the wife is dear, but for the sake of the Self. Not for the sake of the sons are the sons dear, nor for the sake of wealth is wealth dear, nor for the sake of all things are all things dear - but for the sake of the Self alone is everything dear. For the Self is the dearest of all, and all else is loved because the Self loves itself in all. Therefore the Self, my dear, is what should be seen, heard, reflected on, and deeply known; for in knowing the Self, all this is known.'

He taught her that this Self is not born and does not die, that it is the one pure consciousness that underlies all experience; that as a lump of salt dissolved in water is salt through and through, so the Self is undivided awareness, arising as a mass of knowing and pervading all. This was the deathless he gave her in place of the wealth she had refused - the knowledge of the Self that does not die, the only true immortality. And having given her this highest gift, Yajnavalkya went forth from his home to the life of a wandering renunciate.

The sages drew the lessons of the tale for the Pandavas.

'See, first, the depth of the wisdom of the seers. Yajnavalkya silenced the wisest in debate not by cleverness but by his knowledge of the one reality behind all things - the Imperishable on which all is woven, the inner Self that is the unseen seer and unknown knower of all, which can be pointed to only by saying neti, neti, not this, not this, for it is beyond every name and form. The highest truth, the tale teaches, is not a thing among things to be grasped and described, but the very ground of knowing itself, known only when the mind grows still before it.

'And see, in Maitreyi, the soul that chooses wisdom over wealth. Offered all the riches of the earth, she asked instead, what use is that which will not make me immortal? - and sought from her husband the knowledge of the deathless Self. And see the secret he taught her: that all things are dear not for their own sake but for the sake of the Self; that the Self is the dearest and the deepest reality, which does not die; and that to know it is the only true immortality. Set your heart, then, not on wealth, which cannot make you deathless, but on the Self, which is the deathless ground of all you love.'

And the Pandavas took to heart the teachings of the great sage of Mithila, and the question of Maitreyi, who asked not for riches but for the truth that does not die.