sinners, who else will save them? Besides, the very fact that someone has taken refuge
at the monastery, in his desire to lead a better life, shows that his intentions are good,
and we must help him. Suppose a man is bad and perverted; if you cannot change his
character, why then have you put on the ochre robe of a monk? Why have you assumed
the role of teachers?' All four received their monastic initiation.
On the day previous to this sacred ceremony the Swami spoke to them only about the
glories of renunciation and service. He said: 'Remember, for the salvation of his soul
and for the good and happiness of many, a sannyasin is born in the world. To sacrifice
his own life for others, to alleviate the misery of millions rending the air with their
cries, to wipe away tears from the eyes of widows, to console the hearts of bereaved
mothers, to provide the ignorant and depressed masses with ways and means for the
struggle for existence and make them stand on their own feet, to broadcast the
teachings of the scriptures to one and all, without distinction, for their spiritual and
material welfare, to rouse the sleeping lion of Brahman in the hearts of all beings by
the knowledge of Vedanta — a sannyasin is born in the world.' Turning to his brother
disciples the Swami said: 'Remember, it is for the consummation of this purpose in life
that we have taken birth, and we shall lay down our lives for it. Arise and awake,
arouse and awaken others, fulfil your mission in life, and you will reach the highest
goal.' Then addressing the aspirants for the monastic life he said: 'You must renounce
everything. You must not seek comfort or pleasure for yourself. You must look upon
gold and objects of lust as poison, name and fame as the vilest filth, worldly glory as a
terrible hell, pride of birth or of social position as "sinful as drinking spirituous liquor."
In order to be teachers of your fellow men, and for the good of the world, you will
have to attain freedom through the knowledge of the Self.'
From the following incident one can learn the depths of the Swami's compassion.
Many inmates of the Math thought that he was not very discriminating in the choice of
his disciples. Almost anyone could obtain spiritual initiation from him after a little
supplication, and some of them were found later to indulge in wicked actions. One of
his own monastic disciples, Swami Nirmalananda, spoke to him about his lack of
proper judgement and his inability to understand human nature. The Swami's face
became red with emotion. He exclaimed: 'What did you say? You think that I do not
understand human nature? About these unfortunate people I know not only all they
have done in their present lives, but also what they did in their previous ones. I am
fully aware of what they will do in the future. Then why do I show kindness to them?
These hapless people have knocked at many doors for peace of mind and a word of
encouragement, but everywhere have been repulsed. If I turn them down they will have
no place to go.'
Another incident indicating the tender and compassionate heart of Swami Vivekananda
may be mentioned here. One day he was engaged in teaching a disciple the Vedas, with
the abstruse commentary of Sayanacharya, when Girish Chandra Ghosh, the great
playwright of Bengal and an intimate disciple of Sri Ramakrishna, arrived. By way of
teasing him, the Swami said, addressing him by his familiar name: 'Well, G. C., you
have spent your whole life with Krishna and Vishnu. You are quite innocent of the
Vedas and other scriptures.'