Human sacrfices (Rituals) \\\\\\\^^^^^^^
Mentioned in Rigveda, more exactly Soma Mandala
Means praising with some energizing qualities,
And a ritual of drink, also treatment of asthma,
We find it also at later Vedic and Persian cultures.
Ephedra sinica containing ephedrine is a Soma plant
Used as a drink in both Vedic and Zoroastrian tradition,
'The building up of the fireplace performed over-night'
Is Atiratra Agnicayana as a Srauta ritual of Vedic religion.
Attested in the Yajurveda Samhitas, its mantras are in Brahmana
With a bird-shaped altar as a building of bricks, which a hard work requires
With various shapes like mahavedi, uttaravedi, dhishnya and drona
This 'sacrificial altar' in the Vedic religion has a sacrificial fire.
As adhvaradhishnya is an altar at Soma, where something is sacrificed
Yajña is a ritual of sacrifice derived from the Vedic times
They think that offering something into the fire, God can be reached
Temple rites are a combination of both Vedic and Agamic rituals.
The sacrificial division of Hindu scripture is the Karma-Kanda
The most famous Shrauta Brahmins maintain these ancient rituals.
A few thousand of them perform the Agnihotra or basic Aupasana
And the fire sacrifice is always twice daily, at dawn and dusk.
Shakti means cosmic existence, liberation and divine feminine power
Shakti most actively manifests through fertility and female embodiment
Also presented in males, Shakti also means 'The Great Divine Mother'
Human sacrifices are carried out with Shakti, who is there present.
A Sati is a widow, self-immolating on her husband’s pyre, after his death,
To guarantee the couple's reunion in the afterlife and indians say
That Sati releases herself from the “painful cycle of birth and rebirth”
And all these human sacrifices for religious reasons still exist today.
Genesis has Abraham preparing to sacrifice his son to our Lord
Abraham takes his own son up on a mountain and an altar he builds
Tying his son to the altar, he puts a knife to his throat, without a word
But God tell him this is just a test of his faith, we are all His kids.
Jephthah makes a vow to the LORD, over the Ammonites the victory asking
He promises to give to the LORD the first thing coming out without his demand
To greet him when he returns in triumph, for sacrifice it, as a burnt offering.
''You shall be fuel for the fire, your blood shall flow throughout the land.
You shall not be remembered, for I, the LORD, have spoken.''-this is His command.
Copyright © ® Marieta Maglas. All rights reserved.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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The Hinduism
What is Hinduism?
A cluster of tribal customs and of gods,
As practised and worshiped by tribes
Together with the vedic worship.
It is an adulterated Vedic doctrine.
Tribal gods included,
Dravidian gods included,
Ram and Krishna included,
The Hinduism has no universal god.
Vedic influence is not in dominance.
Yet Vedic Brahmins have supremacy.
Lord Buddha, a vedic Kshatric, revolted
Against Vedic worship and was shadowed,
With no regret then and now.
Temples of Buddha were replaced
By the temples of Ram and Krishna.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A22 God Commands Abraham to Offer Isaac
One day, God tested Abraham.
He called, 'Oh Abraham.'
And he answered, 'Here I'm'
An offering, God asked him.
'At Moriah, there's a mountain.
To its top, you take your son,
And offer him as sacrifice to me.
Let this be my command to thee.'
The next day morning, Abraham loaded,
Onto his donkey logs of firewood;
With two servants and his one son,
He went to the place God-chosen.
He ordered his servants to stay
With donkey, some distance away;
He walked upto the place,
Meant for the sacrifice.
With knife and firewood,
To that spot, Isaac, he led.
On the way, his son enquired,
'Where’s the lamb to be offered? '
'My son, ' so Abraham replied,
'That God will provide.'
When they reached the spot,
An altar Abraham built.
O’er the altar, he loaded,
The firewood carried.
He tied his son and placed
Him on the firewood.
He raised the knife,
To take his son's life;
But an Angel came,
And said, 'Don't hurt him.'
'God knows you honour,
And obey Him forever,
By offering your only son,
Late in your life, who was born.'
The Lord showed a ram
Stuck in a bush to Abraham
Who caught hold of it.
As sacrificial offer, he burnt it.
By Abraham this place was named,
As one meaning, 'God provides'.
As a holy place, it’s now famed
For its sanctity, where God resides!
Again the Lord told,
'Your descendants in the world,
Will be as many as the stars,
And sands in the seashores.'
'You offered me your son,
Despite being your only one;
I'll bless you richly
For your obedience surely.'
poem by Simple Simon
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Conversions dilute
The tribal god was made as Lord
Jagannath,
Dravidian Murugan was smeared as
Lord Venketesa,
Buddhists’ Buddha was declared as Lord
Ayyappa, the son of Hari and Haran.
Aryans employed conversion on other gods,
Who in turn brought their worshipers.
Thus, Vedic religion becomes the Hindu Religion.
Islam did conversion in replacing the Vedic gods.
Christianity did conversion through service.
Conversion of conversion dilutes conversion
10.01.2002, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Hindus are not Vedic.
The Vedic concept is the Hindutva,
We are led and made to believe.
See the Gods the Hindus worship.
Most of them are not Vedic Gods.
See their custom and practice.
They did not originate from Veda.
Muslims and Christians converted
The people in India.
Aryans converted the gods of tribes.
Tribes followed their gods
To be sheltered in the Hinduism.
Hindus are not out and out Vedic.
But still Aryan Brahmins are their cowherd.
14.03.2001, Pomdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Paradoxical Alikes
Blazing red
Ascetic saffron
Appeal to me
In same tone
Radical cannons
Vedic canons
Sound to me
In same tune
Rishi Marx
Rebel Manu
Seem to me
Right addresses
Take my route
Learn the truth
(Manu was a great exponent of Vedas. He wrote Manu Smrithi
a codified Hindu law based on Vedic tenets)
BY sathya narayana
dt: 11-11-2008
poem by Sathya Narayana
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The State is the altar of political freedom and, like the religious altar, it is maintained for the purpose of human sacrifice.
quote by Emma Goldman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Communion
Sanctified by white robed candles
Whose flames flicker and dance over ancient altars
Silent lips sing in the silence
Altar boys swing incense and homage to the ritual
Silent feet shift towards the altar
With ease each parting lip
Tastes of sacrifice
And wine dripped cups that brim
With crimsons beads that glisten
And in the shadows
Hidden vaults of history
Tear back the robes
And break the flesh
And shed the blood
And this is love
And this is love
The sweet hymn sings and is sung!
And all is dead [here]
And in the silence gone, as before,
From the universal door flung wide,
The mystery of his sacrifice
yvette m smith feb 2009
poem by Yvette Smith
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Once More Into the Fire
Once more into the fire, my Lord, once more into the fire
Another one calling to be saved, Lord, what shall I do?
Therefore to offer help I go once more into the fire
Once more into the fire, my Lord, once more into the fire
I can't save her with my own two hands, Lord, what shall I do?
To offer her your strong arms, Lord, once more into the fire
Once more into the fire, my Lord, once more into the fire
What of the others who won't call out, Lord, what shall I do?
Pray for them and call to them, Lord, once more into the fire
One last time into the fire, Lord, once more into the fire
I see You reaching now out to me, Lord, what shall I do?
Take your hand to climb out, Lord, nevermore into the fire
((April 6th,2005))
poem by Danny Speicher
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Hymn 129
Submission and deliverance; or, Abraham offering up his son.
Gen. 22:6, etc.
Saints, at your heav'nly Father's word
Give up your comforts to the Lord;
He shall restore what you resign,
Or grant you blessings more divine.
So Abram with obedient hand
Led forth his son at God's command;
The wood, the fire, the knife, he took,
His arm prepared the dreadful stroke.
"Abram, forbear!" the angel cried,
Thy faith is known, thy love is tried
Thy son shall live, and in thy seed
Shall the whole earth be blest indeed."
Just in the last distressing hour
Tie Lord displays deliv'ring power;
The mount of dauger is the place
Where we shall see surprising grace.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Self-Immolation Petrol Sprinkle Sacrificial Meals
burning with self fire now need to get sacrifices done
for people carpet bombed napalm burned nowhere to run
self-immolation petrol sprinkle with sacrificial meals
people targeted with no knight champion to rescue lives
when day night rain fire comes flesh burns never survives
we bronze monks setting self on fire peace protester screams
killing sacrificial victims is an old tradition modern bombs
burning with napalm fire ashes in wind were once eyes thumbs
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Soma
Is is a bitter pill to swallow
But what is life but a bitter pill?
Then a feeling follows
That stuffs the Vedic gods to their gills.
Did it come from India or Persia,
Or only a lab in New Jersey?
Depending on your version
And what reaction it brings:
Skeleto-muscular relaxation
Lack of pain and spasms,
Flat-out beating an orgasm.
And the myth of soma is a truth-
No secret herb or root,
Just this bitter pill after all,
Indeed only a pharmaceutical.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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The Legacy of Maharishi Dayanand Saraswati (I)
A living legend was he, born in February 1824,
Re-establishing Dharma, he emphasized Vedic law.
He fought unrighteousness with the Holy Vedas in hand,
The weapon of truth being his major command.
He battled inequality and eradicated social discrimination,
Uplifting the unfortunate who were treated with degradation.
By serving humanity, God’s servant he prove to be,
In each person, he never failed to recognize divinity.
By his knowledge and wisdom, not only did he talk the talk,
But by living within God’s laws, he also walked the walk.
Dispelling ignorance, he illuminated the word with light,
To uphold Vedic Dharma, did he continuously fight.
He breathed his last on October 30th 1883,
Leaving behind his footprints of a great legacy.
We celebrate his life on the auspicious occasion, Divali
As we strive to tread in the path of Swami Dayanand Saraswati.
Namaste.
Bless! !
poem by Original Soul
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The Altar
A broken ALTAR, Lord, thy servant rears,
Made of a heart and cemented with tears;
Whose parts are as thy hand did frame;
No workman's tool hath touch'd the same.
A HEART alone
Is such a stone,
As nothing but
Thy pow'r doth cut.
Wherefore each part
Of my hard heart
Meets in this frame
To praise thy name.
That if I chance to hold my peace,
These stones to praise thee may not cease.
Oh, let thy blessed SACRIFICE be mine,
And sanctify this ALTAR to be thine.
poem by George Herbert
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The Bible Story of Samson: Book of Judges: Chapter 13
As Israelites offended Lord,
He gave them over to power
Of Philistines for forty years.
A man who hailed from Zorah,
Belonging to the clan of Dan;
His name was Manoah;
His wife hadn’t borne a single child!
The Lord’s angel appeared to her,
Said, ‘You’ll conceive and bear a son.
Take care to drink no wine, strong drink
And eat nothing unclean.
Let not a razor touch son’s head –
From womb, to God consecrated,
Until the day of death;
He’ll deliver Israel
From pow’r of Philistines! ’
The woman told her husband Manoah
About the angel of the Lord
And what he had told her.
Manoah prayed to Lord,
‘O Lord, I beseech You
to send the man of God again
and teach us what to do
for the boy who’ll be born.’
God heard Manoah’s prayer;
The angel came again;
The woman was alone.
She fetched her husband soon;
Manoah asked him what
they ought to do for the boy to be born.
The angel told them what to do.
As Manoah asked the angel
to stay and eat a meal,
The latter told him to offer
a kid and cereals on a rock
to God, whose works are mysteries.
Manoah did as instructed;
The flame from the altar rose high;
The angel ascended the flame
towards the sky and wasn’t seen anymore!
Fear overtook them both;
They thought they’d seen God and would die!
God accepted their sacrifice.
The woman bore a son,
And his name was Samson;
The boy grew up;
The Lord blessed him;
The spirit of the Lord
Came upon him at Mahaneh-dan first!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 8-3-2008
poem by John Celes
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Ebb and Flow
When first Thou on me, Lord, wroughtest Thy sweet print,
My heart was made Thy tinder-box,
My 'ffections were Thy tinder in't,
Where fell Thy sparks by drops.
Those holy sparks of heavenly fire that came
Did ever catch and often out would flame.
But now my heart is made Thy censer trim,
Full of Thy golden altar's fire,
To offer up sweet incense in
Unto Thyself entire:
I find my tinder scarce Thy sparks can feel
That drop from out Thy holy flint and steel.
Hence doubts out bud for fear Thy fire in me
'S a mocking ignis fatuus,
Or lest Thine altar's fire out be,
It's hid in ashes thus.
Yet when the bellows of Thy spirit blow
Away mine ashes, then Thy fire doth glow.
poem by Edward Taylor
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Abraham’s Sacrifice
The noontide sun streamed brightly down
Moriah’s mountain crest,
The golden blaze of his vivid rays
Tinged sacred Jordan’s breast;
While towering palms and flowerets sweet,
Drooped low ’neath Syria’s burning heat.
In the sunny glare of the sultry air
Toiled up the mountain side
The Patriarch sage in stately age,
And a youth in health’s gay pride,
Bearing in eyes and in features fair
The stamp of his mother’s beauty rare.
She had not known when one rosy dawn,
Ere they started on their way,
She had smoothed with care his clustering hair,
And knelt with him to pray,
That his father’s hand and will alike
Were nerved at his young heart to strike.
The Heavenly Power that with such dower
Of love fills a mother’s heart,
Ardent and pure, that can all endure,
Of her life itself a part,
Knew too well that love beyond all price
To ask of her such a sacrifice.
Though the noble boy with laughing joy
Had borne up the mountain road
The altar wood, which in mournful mood
His sire had helped to load,
Type of Him who dragged up Calvary,
The cross on which he was doomed to die.
The hot breath of noon began, full soon,
On his youthful frame to tell;
On the ivory brow, flushed, wearied now,
It laid its burning spell;
And listless—languid—he journeyed on,
The smiles from his lips and bright eyes gone.
Once did he say, on their toilsome way,
“Father, no victim is near,”
But with heavy sigh and tear-dimmed eye,
In accents sad though clear,
Abraham answered: “The Lord, our guide,
A fitting sacrifice will provide.”
The altar made and the fuel laid,
Lo! the victim stretched thereon
Is Abraham’s son, his only one,
Who at morning’s blushing dawn
Had started with smiles that care defied
To travel on at his father’s side.
With grief-struck brow the Patriarch now
Bares the sharp and glittering knife;
On that mournful pyre, oh hapless sire!
Must he take his darling’s life?
Will fails not, though his eyes are dim,
God gave his boy—he belongs to him.
With anguish riven, he casts towards Heaven
One look, imploring, wild,
That doth mutely pray for strength to slay
His own, his only child;
When forth on the air swells a glad command,
And an angel stays his trembling hand.
The offering done, the sire and son
Come down Moriah’s steep,
Joy gleaming now on Abraham’s brow,
In his heart thanksgiving deep;
While with love from His lofty and glorious Throne
Heaven’s King hath smiled on sire and son.
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
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Self immolation
At the age of fifteen she entered a married Life
Soon to prove capable and become responsible wife
Husband passed away at an early age
She became widow and it became difficult to manage
”She must be burnt along with husband” shouted the crowd
They may consider it as honor and feel so proud
We may not go into whether it was bad or good
It was to matter for her life and livelihood
“She was to be burnt “was the decision
No one could change it for any reason
people started to flock to her old house
Sky was filled with slogans as passion rose
It was practice of self immolation called “SATI”
Her face was to shine with more beauty
Head was to be decorated with nice flowers
Red big dot on forehead with blessings to shower
“Long live mother, long live mother” filled the air with slogans
Heavy music of drum beats along with large crowd of women
It was free flow of human beings to witness the show
Great medieval saga to be offered as the anxieties grow
It is banned long ago but still continues to be performed
Authorities remain in dark and are never informed
May be they turn show soft corner for moment
Religious fervor coupled with custom was the event
Day was fixed for immolation and she was prepared
Religious importance of it was repeated and compared
She was to be remembered for her great sacrifice
“You may be known as living Goddess” was the promise
Process ion was out and she was almost near the dais
Her face was covered with flowers and hardly was heard her voice
Sky too remained very calm as Sun departed quietly
Everybody remained calm and observed it minutely
It was seen from distance that she did not favor or go for
It was not her ideas or witnessed by anybody this before
Woman Falk was to be burnt with departed soul
There was no question of smelling any rat or foul
As funeral pyre was to be lit with fire, more chanting begun
She was to be placed on pyre with dead body of husband
As soon as she neared the placed she was virtually pushed
As fire began spreading, crowd began soaring and rushed
She was cosigned to flames as sky turned red with flames
Who was take responsibility and share the blames?
It was holy event at that given time and stood the test
Time now has made full circle and it is not considered as best
* SATI is performing of self immolation after husband’s death
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Ode to the Divine Mother
Ode to the Divine Mother
Found the great treasure of my life
Got the answers to questions, beyond science
O Shree Mataji, the True Guru, embodiment of divinity
With deep reverence, I bow to thee
This devotee, thou miraculously reformed
From darkness to light, ingnorance removed
O Adi Shakti, the primordial source of energy
For thy divine benevolence, I bow to thee
With thy presence, unlocked the energy divine
Unleashing with ease, creativity infinite
O Shri Mataji, Mother of all poets and poetry
For thy divine inspiration, I bow to thee
As mother earth, thou giveth balance and gravity
Erasing all my sins, negativity and impurity
O Shri Mataji, the creator of Lord Ganesha, the Ganapati
Guardian of my innocence and chastity, I bow to thee
Just a glance of thee, removes all chaos instantly
I am in bliss, I am in joy to realize thy divinity
O Nirmala Maa, the very manifestation of Adi Shakti
Giving us salvation instantly, I bow to thee
A ‘particle of dust’, Mother, in childhood, you aspired to be
Touched by thy hands divine, such a particle, let me be
O Shri Mataji, on thy Lotus Feet, let me always be
As that ‘particle of dust’, thy divine instrument, I bow to thee
Shrouded In Mystery
The morning sun, clothed in clouds, is one of God’s striking shrouds,
Just as God’s shrouded in light, impenetrable by the darkest of night,
Unapproachable as He may be, He’s God of the present and Eternity,
Being a God, that we cannot see, He shrouds life, at times in mystery.
At times God moves in our days, for His purpose in mysterious ways,
For God’s shrouded in mystery, while working in lives, of you and me,
As the secret tings belong to God, Who reigns above this earthly sod,
In ways, we could not comprehend, for above us, His ways transcend.
But all things done for me and you, the Good Lord will see us through,
Through every trial that we will face, God will shroud us with His Grace,
And blessings The Lord will bestow, upon us in ways we’d never know,
As The Lord works in mysterious ways, unto our Lord, we lift all praise.
For we are shrouded in the Blood, of God’s Son, sent for us with love.
Sent to The Cross of Mount Calvary, to be a sacrifice, for you and me,
And today that blood, spilt by Him, covers not some, but all of our sin,
For The Savior alone paid the price, so we could be His living sacrifice.
Christ came to earth, to die for us, now we live our life for Christ Jesus,
To serve our Lord in this present time, for a purpose that is truly divine,
And Christ shall remove many shrouds, when we see Him in the clouds,
When Christ returns for you and me, we’ll serve our Lord, for all eternity.
(Copyright ©06/2011)
O My Lord, Your Dwelling Places Are Lovely
O My Lord, Your dwelling places are lovely
Your Presence is manifest, not in mystery.
My dream brought me to the Temple of God
And I praised its delightful servants,
And the burnt offering, its meal and libation
Which rose up in great pillars of smoke.
I delighted in the song of the Levites,
In their secrets of the sacrificial service.
Then I woke, and still I was with you, O Lord,
And I gave thanks - for to You it is pleasant to give thanks
poem by Yehudah HaLevi
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