Chapter 4

Krishna said: This undying Yoga, this deep union, I first taught to Vivaswata, the Lord of Light. Vivaswata passed it on to Manu, and Manu to Ikshwaku; and so it was handed down through the line of my royal sages. But over time, noble Prince, the truth grew faint and was lost. Now I declare it once more to you—this ancient teaching, this supreme mystery—because I find you both devoted and dear to me as a friend.

Arjuna replied: But Lord, your birth was in recent times, while bright Vivaswata lived long before you. How am I to understand what you say—that you taught this from the very beginning?

Krishna answered: Many have been the renewals of my birth, Arjuna, and many of yours as well. I remember mine, though you do not remember yours, O Slayer of Foes. Though I am unborn, undying, indestructible, the Lord of all living things, yet through Maya—the magic I impress upon the floating forms of Nature, that primal vastness—I come, and go, and come again. Whenever righteousness fades, Bharata, and wickedness gains strength, I rise from age to age, taking visible shape, walking as a man among men, helping the good, pushing back the evil, and restoring Virtue to her throne. Whoever knows the truth about my births on earth and my divine work, when he leaves the body, does not take on its burden again, does not fall back into earthly birth—he comes to Me, dear Prince. Many do come. Freed from fear, from anger, from desire, keeping their hearts fixed on me—my faithful ones—purified by the sacred fire of Knowledge, such souls merge into my being. Those who worship me, I lift up; but all people everywhere will eventually find my path, though those who seek rewards for their works now make their sacrifices to the lesser gods. I tell you, they have their reward here. But I am the one who made the Four Castes, assigning each its place according to its qualities and gifts. Yes, I, the Reposeful, who live immortally, created all those mortal births—for works do not stain my essence, since they are done without my being entangled in them. Whoever knows me acting in this way, unbound by action, is himself not bound by action. With this understanding, the saints of old worked, seeking liberation. So work, as your ancestors worked in days gone by.

You say, perplexed, that singers and sages have asked before: what is action, and what is inaction? I will teach you this, and once you know it, you will see which kind of work brings salvation. One must rightly meditate on these three things—doing, not doing, and undoing. The path here is thorny and dark. The one who sees how action can be rest, and rest can be action—he is the wisest among his kind, and he holds the truth. He does well, whether acting or resting. Freed in all his works from the prickings of desire, burned clean in his deeds by the white fire of truth, such a person the wise call wise. Renouncing the fruits of his deeds, always content, always self-sufficient, even when he works he does nothing that stains his individual soul. Free of fear and hope, mastering himself, refusing outward impulses, giving the body only what the body needs, he dwells sinless amid all sin, taking whatever comes with equal calm, unmoved by sorrow or joy, without envy, the same in good fortune or ill, not bound by any chain of deeds. For such a one—whose cravings are gone, whose soul is free, whose heart is set on truth—whatever work he does becomes an act of sacrifice, passing purely into ash and smoke consumed upon the altar. For him, all is God. The sacrifice is Brahma, the ghee and grain are Brahma, the fire is Brahma, the flesh it consumes is Brahma, and he who in this office meditates on Brahma attains to Brahma.

Some worshippers serve the gods with flesh and altar-smoke; others light subtler fires and perform purer rites through their will of worship. Among these are those who, in the white flame of self-restraint, consume the joys of the senses, the delights of eye and ear, giving up tender speech and the sound of song. There are those who, kindling fires with the torch of Truth, burn on a hidden altar the bliss of youth and love, renouncing happiness. There are those who offer up their wealth, their austerities, their meditation, their piety, their steady study of the scriptures, and the knowledge painfully gained through long discipline. There are those who, making a silent sacrifice, draw in their breath to feed the flame of thought, then breathe it out to lift the heart upward, governing every passage of air so that not one breath passes that does not help the soul. And there are those who, day by day denying their needs, lay life itself upon the altar’s flame, wasting the body thin. All of these keep the rite of offering, as though sacrificing victims, and in doing so wipe away much sin. And those who feed on the immortal food left from such sacrifice pass on to Brahma, to the Unending. But the one who makes no sacrifice has no part or share even in this present world—how then could he share in another, glorious one of your line?

In the sight of Brahma all these offerings are laid out and accepted. Understand that all of them proceed through action; knowing this, you will be free of doubt. The sacrifice that Knowledge offers is better than great gifts of wealth, for the value of any gift, my Prince, lies in the mind that gives it, the will that serves through it. And these are gained by reverence, by earnest seeking, by humbly attending to those who see the Truth and teach it. Knowing the Truth, your heart will no longer ache with error, for the Truth will show you all things subdued to you, as you are subdued to Me. Moreover, son of Pandu, even if you were the worst of all wrongdoers, this fair ship of Truth would carry you safely across the sea of your transgressions. As a kindled flame consumes its fuel until only ash remains, so, Arjuna, the flame of Knowledge reduces to ash, to nothing, the dross of works. There is no purifier in all this world equal to it, and the one who seeks it will find it within himself, once he is made perfect. Believing, he receives it when the soul masters itself, clings to Truth, and—possessing knowledge—comes into the higher peace, the deepest repose. But the ignorant, those without full faith, and those who fear are ruined; there is no peace for them here or anywhere else, no hope, no happiness for the one who doubts. The self-contained person who has conquered doubt, who has separated self from service and soul from works, enlightened and freed, my Prince—him no actions can bind. So with the sword of wisdom, son of Bharata, cut in two this doubt that binds your heartbeats. Sever the bond born of your ignorance. Be bold and wise. Take the field with me. Arise!

Here ends Chapter IV of the Bhagavad Gita, titled “Jnana Yog,” or “The Book of the Religion of Knowledge.”