ANANDA ASHRAMA

Today came to me an experience such as I never
expected to have in this life. I had the desire to
spend a few hours outdoors and indulge in my favor-
ite pastime of painting mountains. So we motored
to La Crescenta Mountains in Southern California,
a short distance from Los Angeles.

The clouds that I love so much to watch and to
paint were magnificent. Gray and gloriously pure
white, they cut an exquisite pattern against the
celestial blue, their shadows enhancing the majesty
of the mountains.

Nestled in the beautiful hills, we found
Ananda Ashrama, the peaceful retreat Swami
Paramananda had founded many years ago, and which
ever since has been the gathering place of many
souls of all faiths.

This Sunday, in a world engulfed in the most
devastating war of all time, I found this little
haven of peace, free from the havoc and turbulence
of civilization gone mad -- a quiet sanctuary
dedicated to the highest aspects of man's life on
earth.

Note: The name Ananda Ashrama signifies a retreat
where the peace and love of God are lived
and taught.

Sister Amala, lovely in snow-white habit, a white
silk veil over her head, came up smiling and asked
me if I would like to see the Temple.

"We welcome here spiritually-minded people of
all denominations," she said in her soft voice.

I followed her into the Temple, little knowing that I was about to experience one of the unique moments of my life.

I have been to many a church in all parts of
the world, but for the first time in my life I
stepped into a temple dedicated to the *Universal Spirit* -- a place of worship about which I have dreamed for half a century, but which I never expected to see in my lifetime. How Walt Whitman would have rejoiced to have entered here! How appropriate would be his greeting to mankind over the portals of this Temple:

I salute all the inhabitants
Of the world.

I have always wondered why people have chosen
to have on the walls of their rooms or on chains
about their necks a Jesus suffering on the cross.
If the agony endured by Jesus does not affect them,

it would seem like indifference to suffering. The
picture of Jesus with outstretched hands blessing
little children has always seemed to me more pro-
found, recalling as it does His own beautiful words:

<u>Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me; for of such is the kingdom of heaven.</u>

The agonized aspect of the life of Jesus had
its place once, at a time when it served as a
psychological antidote to the spiritual apathy of
the masses. But the world today needs the more
profound lessons of the life of Jesus.

What a joy at last to see a temple, not
monopolized by any one sect or religion, but dedi-
cated to the universal God -- aspiration of all
mankind -- a place open to all, regardless of race,
color, or creed!

The stained-glass windows of this place of
worship are temple motives from all the nations of
the world, and the niches below are inscribed with
words of the greater prophets of each nation. These
beautiful inscriptions in the niches, over the
entrance of the Temple and above the door of the
library, were all done by my gracious guide in
white.

In this sacred spot -- for the first time --
came to me the quiet acceptance of the fact that
my daughter Lauren is a Benedictine Roman Catholic
by choice, though I was then a Quaker by conviction.
In this holy place, in which God has no label, it
seemed at last wholly consistent for Lauren to
express the spiritual symbolism of her faith
according to her own light, and that I should
follow the simpler belief of the Friends according
to mine.

As the rays of the sun that poured into the
Temple took on the color of the stained glass
through which they filtered, so, I knew in my heart,
do the many-hued thoughts and creeds of man's wor-
ship center upon the one and only God.

So overwhelming was the effect upon me of this
lovely place, that for a long moment I had to sit
in silence, stirred to the depths of my being.
When I looked up, the white figure at my side
seemed all of a sudden like a saintly figure out
of one of the religious paintings of Lauren, and
the words from Witter Bynner's "Canticle of Pan"
came to me in vivid recollection:

> The binding of the hearts of men
> shall be the song for me.

I handed the Sister my little book "Pan and the Spirit of Beauty" embodying this poem. She read what I had said about the mystical communion between Jesus and Pan, and turning to me said: "I feel an inviolable spiritual affinity between your daughter and you."

I had come to these mountains to paint their beauty. I stayed instead to be uplifted by the greater beauty of an idea for which these mountains are a perfect setting.