Waves of Devotion

I just love to stroll among majestic old buildings, so an old acquaintance and my host for the afternoon, Dr. Eben Graves, the assistant director of the Yale School of Sacred Music,[1] took me to see the campus when I came last Sunday afternoon to visit him.

Of special interest was the Beinecke Library,[2] which houses one the largest collection of rare books and manuscripts in the world. The building is spectacular. When you walk inside your attention is immediately caught by a glass enclosed 10,000 square-foot six story sanctum in the center that houses the collection of one million books. For security reasons, the edifice is cleverly surrounded by a moatlike cavern extended to the floors below, but as you circumambulate this veritable book cathedral you still get a perfect audience of the neatly shelved ancient texts rising several stories above. As you continue around this stately edifice, there are several lounge areas with a smattering of display cases of some of the library’s special treasures, including one with a rare Gutenberg Bible[3] and another with an original copy of the Declaration of Independence.

Monday Morning Greetings is grounded in my own realizations—how I see the world based on the perspective of the sacred texts I study. I find that such realizations usually come spontaneously, but on rare occasions when they don’t, I have developed the habit of searching for one. As it was already time to begin my next post and I didn’t have a topic yet, my pleasant Sunday stroll therefore took on a mission. Would I find among the ancient scrolls and the majestic buildings my treasure of weekly truth? Although a few interesting thoughts arose during my tour, I just couldn’t find a topic that I was inspired enough to write about. Therefore, when I left the campus, I scrapped the idea of finding my treasure there. Later in the day, however, some inspiration unexpectedly came.

For some reason, the book God and Man at Yale by William F. Buckley, one of their famous alumni, a prominent media figure and intellectual of my youth,[4] came to mind. In his 1951 best seller he criticized the university for trying to break down the students’ religious beliefs by their hostility to religion and their promotion of collectivist and secular ideals. Although I don’t know enough to attest to the validity of his accusations and I don’t support many of his personal views, thinking about the book’s general theme caused me to recall a realization I was trying to formalize during my walk, which only became clear then. While appreciating the immense beauty and grandeur of these facilities, I couldn’t help but feel sad that these institutions seem to be moving from the original purpose of a university, to create the one place in society that is meant to preserve all aspects of a society’s culture and to train and promote people of learning and character who could best serve those ideals.

As I began to dwell further on this realization, I started to remember other related thoughts and feelings that I was trying to conceptualize during my campus walk. I also recalled, for no better word, a type of envy. I also represent a mission trying to impact society, but the resources of that mission seem paltry in comparison to Yale, which for the most part is dedicated to ideals directly in opposition to mine. It gave me a sinking feeling. How would our mission ever succeed? I felt hopeless, but then I remembered Śrīla Prabhupāda’s arrival in America.

When Śrīla Prabhupāda stepped off the Jaladuta to the shore of Boston, the full brunt of material civilization stood directly before him to the west to a degree he probably could have never imagined. He initially reflected on the utter impossibility of succeeding in his mission to spiritualize the West by his own power[5] but got renewed vigor, despite the odds against him, by dwelling on the books he carried with him in a metal trunk that he would distribute there. He then quoted a series of verses from those books that described the transforming power of bhakti.[6] He had Krishna and His message and continued forward with faith and valor. As described in the Bhagavad-gītā, the advantage was his!

“Wherever there is Kṛṣṇa, the master of all mystics, and wherever there is Arjuna, the supreme archer, there will also certainly be opulence, victory, extraordinary power, and morality. That is my opinion.” (Bg. 18.78)

So, I walked about one of most powerful educational institutions in the world, one focused increasingly on materialistic goals. I was initially humbled by its grandeur, but then became more inspired by the power of the message of the Bhagavat. And that is the story of Krishna and Man at Yale.[7]

[1] https://ism.yale.edu

[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beinecke_Rare_Book_%26_Manuscript_Library

[3] To give one an idea how valuable this collection must be, one of the few Guttenberg Bibles still existing is estimated to cost over thirty million dollars.

[4] William F. Buckley hosted a popular public affairs show in the late sixties called Firing Line where he would interview and challenge with his acerbic wit and intellect the leading intellectuals of the day. Here is an excerpt from when he hosted Allen Ginsberg, who chanted the Hare Krishna Mantra for him: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CS8A5IME7aU

[5] https://vedabase.io/en/library/spl/1/markine-bhagavata-dharma/

[6] Bhag. 1.17-24

[7] Obviously, the title is a parody on God and Man at Yale.

Faith means our goal. It’s where we feel our sublimity rests. I have some faith. Too often, however, I forget the memorable experiences of devotion driving that faith forward. The strength of my practice with the aim of bhāva then wanes. Today, I remember my faith. With renewed vigor I intensify my effort to attain that goal. I start within, but I wallow in complacency. What to do? Can I turn on a switch to at once light my heart with love and devotion? Yes! But first I must walk through the door—the entrance—to true bhakti. I must fully surrender. No! Not that dirty word again!

Bad word? To surrender is to take full refuge of a worthy object of love and truth and to serve that fully as one’s purpose. What can be a more beautiful! It is the child who takes full shelter in the mother’s arms. It is the person of character who fearlessly takes full refuge of the highest principles, no matter what the consequences. And most important, it is the devotee who makes himself fully available for the service of God, who, by the power of his own devotion, has the strength to resist the selfish demands of ego.

The story of an ancient wedding party comes to mind. The party left at night by boat to reach their destination eight hours down the shore. When they awoke in the morning, they were shocked to find themselves in the same place as where they began. When they berated the boatman, he fiercely defended himself. “You must be mistaken,” he argued, “I rowed all night!” The argument continued until one of the passengers looked over the side of the boat. The foolish boatman had forgotten to lift the anchor!

Are my efforts also for naught? Am I hopelessly impeded in my quest for the divine by my failure to fully surrender and to pull up the anchor of my anarthas—those petty attachments that have no (an) value (artha) to my advancement in devotional service? In my pursuit of prema has Krishna still not left me enough joys in life, even attachments, to keep my mind peaceful? So, then what is the difficulty? Enjoy life and just give this one life to Krishna!

It is, however, easier said than done. Although any honest soul can surrender at once by committing themself to what they know deep in their heart is the will of God, surrender is ultimately a qualification of heart. One must want to do it. The simple act of renouncing selfishness and giving oneself to Krishna thus often seem insurmountable, and we are left hopelessly begging for mercy.

Remembering the goal today and therefore hankering to walk through the door of “surrender”, but seeing my own weakness of heart, I felt despondent. But hope suddenly arose. Does not Krishna come when His devotees are in distress? Then let my distress be the voice of my chanting as I call on His name. Will not then Śrī Caitanya, the deliverer of the fallen, hear my angst and help me flip the switch to enter the path of prema?

Heart Massage[1]

May 13, 2019

I am often asked how I come up with topics to write about every week. It seems a bit mystical: I just think about the first realization that has come to mind since I began the last Greeting, and then I begin to write. I often get stuck on a paragraph, or even a sentence, and feel hopeless about how to proceed. It’s hard to envision a completed piece. I move forward, however, in the mood of service, confident that the inspiration will come, for Krishna is in everyone’s heart and from Him comes remembrance and knowledge.[2] Inevitably it does. Writing is such a faith builder, because it works every time. I start, can’t imagine how something of worth will come, but then watch the process unfold. By the time I am finished, I am generally quite surprised by the result, which seems to far exceed my abilities, almost as if I didn’t write it myself.

I am staying upstate this week at my place. It is my paradise: nothing to do, no one to meet; just writing and chanting. Japa meditation—all forms of meditation—are like starting a car. You don’t start in the highest gear; you have to gradually build up speed. Likewise, gaining chanting momentum takes some time—not in how quickly I am chanting, but in the intensity of focus attained. I have that time this week, and with increased focus comes realization. Well, I had one. Chanting is like a heart massage. And that is the focus of today’s Greeting.

A massage is something one enjoys that happens without one’s effort. The holy name is Krishna. We can’t create God, or the holy name, by our effort. It is something that fully manifests to us only by Krishna’s mercy in response to our heart or the sincerity of our chanting. And when the holy name does come, no effort is required. Chanting then happens to us. We can relax, let the vibration of the holy name massage the heart.

Krishna is not different from His name. We vibrate the name and have direct communion with God. The vibration of the holy name is the hands of God loosening the knots of desire in the heart. Don’t just hear the holy name; feel the holy name. Let the vibration of the holy name massage the heart.

The best massage is done out of love. The holy name masseur does not charge anything. He is serving His devotee out of love. The heart massage is thus Krishna’s mercy—undeserved kindness. We feel grateful. Devotion then awakens along with a strong desire to serve. And what is that service? To become purified. We accept the caress of God to make our heart a worthy offering of devotion. Heart massage is thus our most important service. Let the vibration of the holy name massage the heart.

Krishna giveth; Krishna taketh away. I haven’t really met my quota in the sense that I prefer Monday Morning Greetings to be a bit longer. Usually the flow continues and ends at right about the appropriate length. When I paraphrased the verse from the Bhagavad-gītā that tells us that Krishna gives remembrance and knowledge, I left out a part. From Him also comes forgetfulness. Krishna has turned off the flow of this article, so I guess it is time to end. Maybe I will just go for another massage and wait for my next realization.

[1] This week is a reprint and one of my favorite posts. I now have almost six and a half years of Monday Morning Greetings. You can expect for me to post a reprint about once a month, which will give me more time that week for my other writing projects. I notice that when I go back several years I don’t even remember what I have written, so I hope they will still read fresh with you also.

[2] Paraphrase of Bhagavad-gītā 15.15.

In my last post, I mentioned that I had something of an epiphany concerning the first verse of the Tenth Canto. Mahārāja Parīkṣit had just heard from Śukadeva Goswāmī at the end of the Ninth Canto about the lineage of saintly kings. Within that description were a few verses summarizing the activities of Krishna, which very much inspired the King to want to hear more. The Tenth Canto begins with an expression of his enthusiasm in terms of an inquiry to hear about the activities of Krishna in detail. My inspiration concerns how much Mahārāja Parīkṣit’s name reveals about the mindset behind his inquiries and how much that understanding meant to me.

The name “Parīkṣit” comes from the root words pari (in all respects, everywhere) and īkṣ (to see), which conventionally means “to examine”, the suffix making it an active principle, the examiner, which is certainly an appropriate designation for the King, considering the story of his birth and how that informed his raison d’être[1]:

King Parīkṣit saw the form of the Lord when Krishna appeared in the womb of his mother to protect him from being aborted by a special weapon that was directed at her womb by the revengeful Aśvatthāmā. The vision of the Lord’s beauty at that time made such a powerful impression on him that he would come to inspect all people in search of that personality he had seen in the womb. As that pursuit formed his constant contemplation and his reason for living, he became famous as Parīkṣit, the examiner.

His name therefore gives us insight to the degree of emotion he must have felt in anticipation of finally coming to a part in the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam where the pastimes of Krishna, the one whom he had been searching for and contemplating his whole life, are finally described. He was already so enthralled with what he had heard on the science of Krishna that even the vow he made on the verge of death to give up eating and drinking could not hinder his absorption. The opportunity, however, to now directly hear the pastimes of Krishna brought his enthusiasm to hear to even newer heights. It is this intensity of longing to hear the pastimes of Krishna recorded in the first sixteen verses of the Tenth Canto that is the catalyst for the ninety chapters that follow, which describe Krishna’s pastimes and serve as the fulfillment of the search of one designated as “Parīkṣit”.

And here is where the name “Parīkṣit”, the examiner, really struck me. Am I also not the examiner? Did I not also have an experience of Krishna, one that made me also seek Him as the goal of my life? If not, then why I am still chanting His name and calling myself a devotee? Like Parīkṣit, am I not the person who is about die, if not by my advanced age, at least by the glaring reality before me of the world of death? Have I also not come to the oasis of the Tenth Canto, where this desperate and dying soul can certainly quench his spiritual search and find the joy of eternal life in the beautiful pastimes of Krishna? What is the use of my life if I don’t imbibe the import of Parīkṣit by prioritizing and absorbing myself in the pastimes of Krishna?

[1] The most important reason or purpose for someone or something’s existence.