GUEST POST from Dr. Simran Jeet Singh

The Sikh wisdom you've been waiting for.

Friends, it’s still not yet Leviticus o’clock, but I thought while we’re in this in-between zone we could try some other things for this space in the meantime. Up for it?

(Also, apologies! Looks like folks on the paid subscription track were charged when they shouldn’t have been—I tried to open and close to portal quickly for something and it didn’t close, but now it is—so when things start up again for real I’ll just leave the portal closed for the first month so Thursday content isn’t being charged or something, we’ll figure it out.)

So I thought it could be cool to get some other voices in here, for example. Like: Dr. Simran Jeet Singh, an educator, social justice activist, religious studies nerd (such as myself) and most of all just an ongoing source of wisdom, inspiration and light.

And speaking of light, he’s just released an amazing new book called The Light We Give: How Sikh Wisdom Can Transform Your Life that’s part memoir, part spiritual journey, part deep teaching, entirely worth your while. Get it here.

Anyway, we are lucky enough to get some holy sparks from Simran now. And there were a few places where I couldn’t help but think about parallels in Judaism, so with his permission there’s going to be a bit of textual call and response here, too.

3 Sikh Teachings That I’d Love People to Know

Dr. Simran Jeet Singh

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before. A brown-skinned, turban-wearing, bearded dude grows up in Texas in post-9/11 America – and he has to learn through in the face of intense hate and bigotry how to draw strength from his Sikh faith and community. 

Well, I’ll admit that it’s not that funny. And I’ll also share that I’m speaking from experience. I am that person, the Sikh who grew up in this country at a time when living into my faith meant choosing to look like America’s enemy. It’s been a strange and difficult experience—to live as a Sikh in our world is to open ourselves up to the worst of people’s assumptions and animus. And yet, every morning, I still choose to tie my turban, and I do so with pride. I’m so grateful for the gifts my tradition has given me and how some of its teachings have changed my life. 

While I’m not so into the religious competition or supremacy game, and while every bone in my body shivers when I feel spiritual judgement or hierarchy, I do find joy in sharing what I love with the world, especially when it carries the possibility of making other people’s lives better too. It’s also why I cherish James Baldwin’s insight: “If I love you, I have to make you conscious of the things you don’t see.”

With all of this in mind, I’m here to help shed light on a tradition you might not know, and on some wisdom that has not yet been explored much in western contexts. Here are five simple insights about my tradition – Sikhi – that I’d love for you to know. 

1. The foundational teaching of Sikhi is the interconnectedness of our world. We refer to this as ik oankar. It’s the belief that the entire universe is created by a single Creator, and what’s more, that this Creator resides within the creation itself. Some might call it pantheism, others might call it panentheism. And of course, we know good folks who would call it all idolatry. 

   (Rabbinic Interlude: The 16th c. Kabbalist Moshe Cordovero wrote, “The essence of divinity is found in every single thing—nothing but It exists.  Since It causes everything to be, no thing can live by anything else.  It enlivens them. Infinity exists in each existent.  Do not say, ‘This is a stone and not God.’ God forbid! Rather, all existence is God, and the stone is a thing pervaded by divinity.”)

   I’m not so concerned with how this worldview falls into organizing categories. Instead, I’m intrigued by how this simple shift in how we view the world can transform how we see ourselves and our relationships with one another. For instance, a simple teaching that builds on the foundation of oneness is this: If we are all created from the same divine light, then how can we call anyone good or anyone bad?” 

   I love this teaching because it’s simultaneously simple and profound. It offer us a way of looking and being that precludes the very possibility of discrimination. It’s why the principle of equality is so central to Sikh philosophy, and it’s also why I think this outlook has promise for all of us today. How different could our world be if we could learn to see the light in ourselves and in one another? 

2. The teaching of non-discrimination is not just theoretical. It’s institutionalized and operationalized in ways that can give us real inspiration for how we create a more equitable world today. For instance, the very practice of wearing a turban is a creative means for Sikhs to assert radical sovereignty and equality. In early modern South Asian culture, turbans were reserved for royalty – kings, primarily. The Sikh Gurus taught that everyone is equally divine and equally sovereign, and they invited everyone to start wearing turbans. It was a beautiful, creative act of asserting equality in the face of imperial power – and it can show us what it looks like to empower people who are oppressed and lifting up the people we’re trying to serve. 

   (Rabbinic interlude, from the Talmud, Moed Katan 27a-b, bold is Aramaic, Roman is additional context: The Sages taught: At first, the meal after the burial would be brought to the house of the mourner in various ways. The wealthy would bring the meal in baskets of silver and gold, and the poor would bring it in baskets of peeled willow branches. And the poor were embarrassed, as everyone would see that they were poor. The Sages instituted that everyone should bring the meal in baskets of peeled willow branches, due to the honor of the poor. Likewise, at first taking the dead out for burial was more difficult for the relatives than the actual death, because it was customary to bury the dead in expensive shrouds, which the poor could not afford… This lasted until Rabban Gamliel came and [left instructions] that he be taken out for burial in [simple] linen garments. And the people adopted this practice after him and had themselves taken out for burial in linen garments. Rav Pappa said: And nowadays, everyone follows the practice of taking out the dead for burial even in plain hemp garments [tzerada] that cost only a dinar.)

   Another example that I absolutely love is how the Gurus invited Sikhs to abandon their last names – which traditionally reflected caste and social status – and to instead embrace shared last names drawing from royal lineages. This was another radical way to challenge social norms and reject hierarchy. But it wasn’t just about caste and class. The Gurus asked Sikh men to take the name royal last name Singh (literally, lion or tiger), and they gave Sikh women their own last names, Kaur, which also drew from royal lineages. With this simple act, the Sikh gurus sought to abolish gender inequities (i.e., smash the patriarchy!). This move makes so much sense given the worldview: women are not inferior to men, and they’re certainly not the property of men, as so many cultures tend to presume. So why do women change last names when they get married? The Gurus challenged this practice in a creative way, giving us a new way to see the divine sovereignty in each of us. 

3. Sovereignty is a key theme in Sikh teachings, and it’s an important question in today’s world too. Who has the authority to make decisions for us? To what extent do we have autonomy over our own lives, and our own bodies? So much of religion gets caught up in these kinds of questions, and frankly, these questions of authority are a turn-off for me. If each of our lives are unique and if contexts are constantly shifting, what sense does it make for a single leader or group of leaders to make overarching decisions for everyone? This feels especially difficult when we tack on the reality that people are imperfect and that power corrupts religious leadership, too. 

   (Rabbinic interlude: Word. And while in some ways this makes me think about the revolution of Rabbinic Judaism—The Tzadokian (Sadducean) model assumed that only someone from the Priestly lineage could serve in the Temple, serve in that liminal, sacred space. The Rabbis taught that everyone could study Torah, and it didn’t matter if your family had a so-called “impressive” heritage or was from Jews by choice, if you learned to read at age 40 or had been studying from a young age. Everyone could come learn to study Torah.—of course 2000 years later the answers are more complex and a dialogue with this thoughtful section demands much more engagement than a couple of quick words.)

   This is one reason why I love the Sikh approach to spirituality. We don’t need a middleman (and yes, it’s usually men) to help us cultivate a relationship with divinity. These relationships are personal and they’re our own, and ultimately, only we know what’s truly in our hearts. Recognizing this, and also recognizing the ways in which religious leaders and institutions are vulnerable to corruption, the Gurus took a new approach. Let’s leave aside the clergy model and just open religion up to everyone. People can guide us, but no one can dictate for us how we must live, especially when it comes to spirituality.

   
   There’s something liberating about this outlook. It takes the power from the hands of others and puts it into our own hands. It’s not to say we control everything in life – we don’t. And it’s not to say that we’re perfect – we’re not. But it’s an approach that calls on us to take whatever control we can over our own lives and to hold ourselves accountable for our own spiritual progress. Perhaps there’s something in this approach that speaks to the challenges we’re all facing today. 

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