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Archive for February, 2022

Monday Morning Greetings 2022 #9 – I want to be a Vaishnava!

February 28th, 2022

I want to be a Vaishnava! [1]

November 7, 2016

 

Amidst the throngs of seemingly ordinary people here in Vrindavan, just one old Vaishnava sadhu has to smile and greet you in his raspy voice “Jai Ho, Maharaja!” and you realize why you have come to this place. Does that sound sentimental? After living here for more than forty years, that is my strong conviction, that the endearing voices and bountiful smiles of such beautiful people inform us powerfully of the real goal in life: to become simple hearted, happy, and in a mood of service. Yes, the beautiful things in life are simple and sweet, because they are born not from opulence but from the hearts of devotion. And that’s the glory of Vrindavan, the jewels of mādhurya (sweetness) that are hidden in the hearts of the real vraja-vāsīs, those who are born in Vrindavan or who live there and imbibe its mood.

 

Yesterday I mined one.

 

Govinda Kuṇḍa is just a forty-minute walk down the parikramā path from my place near Dana Ghati (the place of the tax pastime). It sits next to the side of Govardhana Hill. It’s where Indra performed the ceremonial bath of Krishna to beg pardon for his offense, and those bath waters formed this beautiful pond. Five of us took a late-morning outing there to visit this small sadhu hamlet.

 

Our visit eventually took us down a small road off the main path on the southern side of the kuṇḍa that ended at a yellow iron gate with a sign above announcing the place as the ashram of the renowned late Vaishnava saint and mystic Manohar Baba. We entered and walked straight alongside the ashram building under an enclosed pavilion to the end of the property, where we faced an old wooden door. We cautiously pushed the door open and entered a dimly light hall and the altar of small Sri Madana-mohana deities. A simple sadhu was sitting there chanting, but he immediately stood up to greet us and beamed, “Prasādam, prasādam,” enthusiastically pointing our way through a corridor to the back of the property, where their kitchen and prasādam hall stood.

 

As we entered the rustic kitchen pavilion of this ancient ashram, Sitanath Baba, the recently installed mahant of the place, was standing over an open fire vigorously stirring a wok of vegetables. When he saw us enter, he turned and also beamed, “Prasādam, prasādam,” pointing to a single-plank table with chairs for our group all facing where Sitanath was cooking as another joyful sadhu fed us a sumptuous meal. Sitanath then suddenly left his cooking to scurry around the ashram to find whatever he could in to please us, from their special stash of sweets for guests to hot cow’s milk at the end.

 

We felt so welcomed. I loved their culture, especially their smiles, worn almost as badges of their faith. And what was their faith? It was the happiness of prīti, or love, their deep conviction that pleasure is not to enjoy or control the world but to genuinely serve God and his devotees. And that’s what Vraja, the holy district of Vrindavan, really is, what I really hanker for—the simple heart of service reflected in the beautiful smiles of its residents.

 

Once, when a faithful disciple of Srila Prabhupada said to him, “You are greatest Vaishnava!” he became grave and replied, “No! Vaishnava is not an ordinary thing!” Of course, part of being of Vaishnava is humility, and in one’s deep hunger for the service of God one naturally feels a lack of devotion. Indeed, Srila Prabhupada was one of the greatest Vaishnavas, but he highlighted the rarity and value of a simple heart and mood of service.

 

Being here in Vraja and being inspired by the Vaishnavas here, I find that my chanting has taken up a singular prayer for this auspicious month of Kartik:

 

“I want to be a Vaishnava!”

 


[1] I wasn’t able to complete this week’s Monday Morning Greetings. I have chosen to publish a reprint about a pilgrimage I took in 2016 here in Govardhan to one of my favorite places. I have chosen this entry because I visited that same place this week and was similarly inspired by the humility and the sweetness of the devotees there.

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2022 #8 – I Fell in Love with a Mountain and Other Govardhan Musings

February 21st, 2022

I Fell in Love with a Mountain

 

I gaze towards the path just outside my ashram gate. A river of faithful scurry around Govardhan. My favorites? The old Brijabasi ladies whose Olympic pace seem to defy their age. Their dress? Have you ever seen Granny from the show Beverley Hillbillies?[1] I put my ear to the ground. I hear only kirtans or joyful chatter. Even the struggling out-of-town businessmen with their puri and pakora potbellies seem to somehow enjoy the arduous five-to-seven-hour trek. I hit the ground in prayer. I’m off. My own trek of gratitude begins.

 

Roti Baba

 

I pass a twenty-foot lean-to kitchen on my right that is open to the pilgrim road, the dwelling of Roti Baba. I have gone by that shanty thousands of times. I have never failed to see him majestically standing there, well over six feet, strongly built, light swarthy complexion, shirtless, covered with a short white cotton wrap from waist to knees, sporting a perfect long grey sadhu beard and dreadlocked beehive hair. He is the emblem of calm, the picture of perfect dignity, as he soberly oversees his operation of volunteers who feed hundreds, often thousands, of pilgrims day and night. His specialty: rotis!  As I pass by, I bow my head, appreciating his life of steady service.

 

Seeing Govardhan

 

The real Vrindavan is the hearts of the residents and pilgrims. It takes only a simple kirtan to bring their mood of devotion to the surface. If their smiles fortunately touch your heart, you too may become blessed with a vision of the dhāma. Then what was once a land too often carelessly cluttered with refuse becomes the spiritual world. It is still two hundred yards to Jatipur, but I can distinctly smell the sour milk spoiling in its gutters from the gallons of milk poured daily in non-stop ceremonial bath of Govardhan. I immediately think, “Spoiled milk incense – my favorite brand!” – reminding me of the rivers of devotion offered at the feet of Sri Giriraja. I love it!

 

Super Bol![2]

 

I pass the Jaya Radhe team. You heard me right. They all wear red sweatshirts with their team’s name “Jaya Radhe” scribed on the back of the shirt below their shoulders and their number just below that. What’s their sport? Who do they compete against? I inquire. They are a group of men from Gwalior in their thirties. Years ago, they bonded together with the vow to yearly do a daṇḍavat parikrama around Govardhan beginning on Rasa Purnima. They sit together exhausted, but in bliss, a short respite from their tapasya before they continue their six-hour daily jaunt, the first day of a week-long effort. What a team! By dint of their determination and devotion I am certain they have won the Super Bol.

 

Radha Tantra

 

I arrive back at the ashram. Sri Madhava Misra is finishing up a Radha Tantra yajña in my courtyard. Radha Tantra? He asked to use my courtyard on Rasa Purnima for a fire yajña to invoke auspiciousness for the world. My thing is the shakti of the holy name, but he is kindhearted and expert. It doesn’t hurt that he is the grandson of Acarya Prabhakar, Srila Prabhupada’s first disciple,[3] and loves to serve the devotees of ISKCON. He is fifty now and had, since the age of nine, traveled for more than thirty-five years with his guru perfecting his spiritual craft until his guru passed from this world a few years ago. Anyway, I trust my instincts that his intentions are good. It seems he is the real deal tantra. It’s quite a spectacle of svāhās seen practically no other place in the world. He sat for the last nine hours without blinking, focused on his craft of feeding a hundred kilos of the finest oud and agar wood and other fine ingredients into an emblazed twelve-foot square aṣṭa-dhātu kunda[4]. I sat for a while chanting the Hare Krishna mantra and with each svāhā I offered myself to the fire in service to Sri Radha. Only in India, only in Govardhan. Yes, I have fallen in love with a mountain!

 

 


[1] Granny was a prominent character on the popular sit-com from the 60s called the Beverley Hillbillies. The local village Brijabasi ladies typically wear a skirt to their ankles with a buttoned-down shirt past their waist. Just reminded me of her character from that show.

[2] Sometimes it is difficult to know the frame of my audience, which is international. The Super Bowl is the biggest sporting event in the USA.

[3] https://prabhupadabooks.com/letters/bombay/may/01/1974/acarya_prabhakar_mishra

[4] A fire sacrifice is often done in a kunda, a vat to contain the fire. Aṣṭa-dhātu is when something is an octo-alloy, made of eight different metals.

Monday Morning Greetings 2022 #7 – Do You Really Think it is OK That They Abandoned Their Babies?

February 14th, 2022

Well, who is this about? The answer is a bit bewildering. It is about Krishna’s greatest devotees. When the gopīs heard Krishna’s flute, they immediately abandoned whatever they were doing, even putting down the young babies in their arms, just to run off to the forest to see their beloved Krishna. We can say this is lila, the Lord’s play, but what about the little ones?  Somehow even couched in the concept of transcendence, it just doesn’t seem right. Shouldn’t a devotee think of others before themself, what to speak of the mood of the topmost ones? To reconcile this, we need to talk about the relationship between responsibility and renunciation. What scope, if any, within the philosophy of Krishna consciousness, is there justification for the abandonment of one’s duties, even such consequential responsibilities as the protection of those dependent on our care?

 

The Bhagavad-gītā seems to support that one who realizes the soul is not bound by any duties at all:

 

“But for one what takes pleasure in the self, whose human life is one of self-realization and who is satisfied in the self only, fully satisfied—for him there is no duty.” (3.17)

 

That’s all fine—that one who is self-realized has no duty. However, Krishna makes it clear in the verses that follow this one that although the duties that are prescribed to purify one’s individual material condition lose rule over one who has transcended that condition, it doesn’t mean one gives those duties up. In fact, Krishna recommends not to. And the reason Krishna specifically gives is because of the harm that abandonment of duties can do, not only for those one is responsible for, but for the health of society in general.[1]  Krishna even uses Himself as an example. Although naturally there are no duties prescribed for Him, He still does them out of concern for the harm it would cause to society if He renounced them, both to those who are not qualified to transcend them, but would follow His example, and the effect people leaving their duties would have on a healthy social structure.

 

“If I did not perform prescribed duties, all these worlds would be put to ruination. I would be the cause of creating unwanted population, and I would thereby destroy the peace of all living beings.” (3.22-24)

 

Krishna couldn’t be clearer. A bhakta must never think selfishly in his transcendent pursuits. He must be cognizant about the effect of his actions, and therefore must perform certain karmic duties, even if they no longer are relevant to his personal condition and consequent purification. But is that always the case?

 

Gauḍīya Vaiṣṇava history is filled with examples from Śrī Caitanya, who left home at the age of twenty-four, to Śrīla Raghunātha dāsa Gosvāmī, who abandoned dependents, in this case a young wife, without any issues for a seemingly higher cause. There are contemporary examples also. Śrīla Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja had two young daughters, but left his family in the middle of the night when he felt a strong calling to serve his guru’s mission. Was that wrong?

 

I think the answer is found in the purport of the verse I quoted above (3.17), where Śrīla Prabhupāda explains:

 

“By such cleaning of consciousness, one becomes fully confident of his eternal position in relationship with the Supreme. His duty thus becomes self-illuminated by the grace of the Lord, and therefore he no longer has any obligation to the Vedic injunctions.”

 

In other words, one who is self-realized is no longer ruled by obligatory junctions but is instead directly inspired from within. Although that self-illumination almost always directs the self-realized to continue in his duties at least until his family responsibilities are covered, as in the case of Arjuna, who was directed to fight in battle for righteous reasons, Krishna can also direct one in exceptional cases to leave home prematurely. And if that is the case, and the person is truly in communion with a higher direction, Krishna assures His unmotivated devotee that he will be protected from any sin.[2] In terms of others, one can also be assured that Krishna will also protect them, as guaranteed in the famous adage and analogy that when one waters the root of the tree (full surrender and service to God) all the leaves and branches are replenished (it is auspicious for everyone).

 

Back to the gopīs.[3] I explained the principle of full surrender and how Krishna fully protects those who are, and how full surrender automatically invokes auspiciousness for everyone. As a needed caution, I also explained the rarity of Krishna directing one to renounce worldly dharma, even for spiritually elevated devotees. The gopīs, however, saw Krishna face to face.[4] Therefore, in all their activities their pure love of God nourished the world and everyone in connection with them, even when renouncing their “worldly” dharma to see Krishna. By His grace, how can it be otherwise?[5]

 

 


[1] The word Krishna uses is loka-saṅgraham (keeping the world together).

[2] “Abandon all varieties of religion and just surrender unto Me. I shall deliver you from all sinful reactions. Do not fear.” (Bg. 18.66)

[3] Another reason that the gopīs cannot be held responsible for the abandonment of their family is that on the level of continuous samādhi, especially the full absorption after hearing Krishna call them, has no awareness of the buddhi (intelligence), manasā (mind), or ego (external identity), and thus societal relationships.

[4] The purpose of this post is to explain the gopīs actions by discussing how one dictated by Krishna is absolved of any sin. I should note however, that it’s not always easy to perfectly port the “lessons” from Krishna-līlā into our world. The gopīs teach us absolute surrender, but not necessarily how we are supposed to absolutely surrender in our own lives. The laws of Krishna-līlā and yogamāyā are different from ours. I doubt that babies left alone in Vraja starve or are kidnapped or killed. But they can be in our world. So we take the correct lesson and inspiration from them, but that doesn’t mean we can do the same exact things.

[5] In discussing this post with another devotee, they referred me to Krishna Sandarbha Anuccheda 177 where this subject is discussed. A short excerpt from Śrī Jīva’s interesting commentary. “Though it is said they had children, it refers to the children of the husbands’ relatives. If they had children, it would produce rasābhāsa because of irregularity in the vibhāva.

 

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2022 #6 – On Criticism

February 7th, 2022

We just finished our first B.I.G. retreat (Bhakti Immersion Govardhan). It was one of our best. The facilities here are very good, and the prasadam and kirtans were especially wonderful. Between preparing and giving classes, long kirtans, and absorbing parikramas, there literally was not a moment free for anything else, especially writing. I will therefore share with you a previous post. First, here are some short videos of our kirtans: Bhakti Immersion Govardhan Kirtans Part 1 and Part 2.

 

 

On Criticism
October 10, 2016

 

“The poison of that which you criticize comes to you.”

 

“Criticism is worse that throwing a spear in someone’s body, because the spear can only pierce the body but criticism can pierce the heart.”

 

“Criticism is worse than envy. Envy is when it is in the heart. Criticism is when it comes out.”

 

I have repeated these statements often. I am sure I read them someplace, though I can’t find their reference. I have no difficulty, however, embracing their conclusion. And here is one strong, clearly referenced statement about the necessity to avoid criticism:

 

“Of the nine processes of devotional service, the most important is to always chant the holy name of the Lord. If one does so, avoiding the ten kinds of offenses, one very easily obtains the most valuable love of Godhead.” (Caitanya-caritāmṛta Antya 4.71)

 

It’s a good reference, for the most serious of the ten offenses against the holy name is criticism. Of course, the word for criticism used here, nindā, is qualified by the word sadhu, and there is also allowance for constructive criticism. We will get to that, but we need to realize that the stakes for an offender are high: you won’t get love of Godhead. And for the devotee, that is everything. Best to err on the side of caution.

 

I struggle with that. So many people, devotees who are dedicated and senior, sometimes do things that disturb me. How can one not criticize? Be careful! If one’s criticism is not born of compassion but harbors even a trace of ill will, that hate will certainly cover the soul, for the soul is simply consciousness meant for love and devotion.

 

And if I think about it honestly, I too must do things that serve as fuel for other people’s lower nature. We all struggle with our own impurities and conditioning, and it’s bound to be just the thing that annoys someone else, especially someone with a different nature. That is simply the way of the world. But I don’t want to be a self-righteous hypocrite who is always clamoring for justice for others and mercy for himself.

 

But what about all the injustice? By all means, speak up and speak up strongly, but first make sure there is no hate in your own heart; otherwise your kirtan of others’ faults, which merely embodies the impurities of your own heart, will spread only hate of others, not love of God. We have seen too often that the modern champions of controversy create threads that attract mostly the bitter.

 

I remember reading in a history of the Gauḍīyā Math of a younger devotee who had a very critical intelligence. He would often see things that were wrong. But when he sought the counsel of a senior and elevated Vaishnava, he was given a piece of simple advice—“Observe and don’t talk”—and he followed that instruction for the rest of his life and attained spiritual heights. Yes, it may be one’s service to point out mistakes. I just don’t envy that person, and I pray they are pure. Otherwise:

 

“We all become well-disguised mirror image of anything that we fight too long or too directly… Most frontal attacks on evil just produce another kind of evil in yourself, along with a very inflated self-image to boot.”— Richard Rohr, Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life.

 

My prayer is to be a Vaishnava. In so many places in shastra that is defined as one who is free from the propensity to criticize others. Who else can a Vaishnava be other than one who has no hate in his or her heart? I hanker for such saṅga. And by Srila Prabhupada’s grace, there are many such souls. I just have to be the bee that seeks the honey and not the fly that looks for the sores.

 

I conclude with another statement that I often repeat without a reference but which I embrace whole-heartedly:

 

Bhakti is simple. Even a child can do it. What is difficult is avoiding offense.”