Monday Morning Greetings 2023 #13 – Rasa or Tattva?

March 27th, 2023

Tattva means science or subject. Rasa means heighten loving emotion to Śrī Krishna. I have seen, however, the words rasa and tattva used in a more colloquial manner. When people raise a question whether something is literally true or figuratively true, they sometimes ask whether it is tattva [hard fact] or rasa [figurative]. To make such subtle distinctions in one’s study of the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam in terms of the meaning of words and phrases can be important in our understanding of the text.

 

Before I continue with this week’s post, I should be clear that scriptural analysis doesn’t mean that we take the history of the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam as mere mythology or metaphor and discount the description of the demons and other seemingly fantastic stories, including the other worldly descriptions of the universe. It means using the pedagogical tools given by our ācāryas to help us interpret or understand those verses and stories in a deeper way and in the proper context[1].

 

The most important lens or tool by which we understand a particular sacred text is called sambandhi, understanding the reality to which all the texts in a particular śāstra has a relationship. In common language, this means deciphering its theme. For the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam that reality is that Śrī Krishna is the Supreme Personality of Godhead. In other words, the focus of Śrī Vyāsa, the author, is to establish Krishna’s position and other subjects such as material science or history, for example, are only studied as far as they help us realize that fact. They are therefore not meant as the basis of a deep independent study within itself, as the author himself didn’t find the necessity to do that.[2]

 

For example, every Purana (spiritual history) to be authorized must outline and describe to some extent the lineage of the kings. Why? To deter one from the natural material impetus to seek such lordship and to focus instead on attaining love for Krishna, which is the text’s sambandhi, it is necessary to hear how those at the pinnacle of control and enjoyment, the kings, have their attachments thwarted and suffer by the same twists of fate as everyone else. As the intent of such history is to promote renunciation, approaching the text to the standard of academic historical analysis may not only be wanting, but also a distraction from understanding the deep import intended by the author. Śukadeva Gosvāmī himself describes this:

 

Śukadeva Gosvāmī said, “O mighty Parīkṣit, I have related to you the narrations of all these great kings, who spread their fame throughout the world and then departed. My real purpose was to teach transcendental knowledge and renunciation. Stories of Kings lend power and opulence to these narrations but do not in themselves constitute the ultimate aspect of knowledge.” [emphasis mine] (Bhag. 12.3.14)

 

Similarly, cosmology also has a specific purpose in relationship to the text’s theme, or sambandhi. The subject of the planetary systems is described as sthānaṁ and defined in the Second Canto as sthitir vaikuṇṭha-vijayaḥ—that the right situation (sthitir) for the living entities is to accept the superiority (vijayaḥ) of Krishna (vaikuṇṭha) by understanding the grandeur of this world in relationship to Him and thus establishing our position as His servant, which is the sambandhi of the text. Again, those seeking an academic scientific description that neatly fits the language of modern cosmology when that objective was neither the author’s focus nor the language or interest of his audience at time will no doubt be disappointed. I had a friend that took nearly fifty years to surrender to Krishna in part because he couldn’t fit the descriptions of the universe found in the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam into his highly educated and academic scientific world view. Perhaps a few tools of analysis based on an understanding of the author’s intent would have helped him surrender sooner and for that matter be of relevance now in deepening our faith and understanding.

 

Rasa or tattva? Yes, a few simple interpretative tools could save us years of doubt that obscure the message of the Bhagavat and impede our attainment of what’s really important—to well within our hearts the ultimate goal of life, love of Godhead.

 

 


[1] There are different types of verses and not all our meant to be understood literally. For example, most of the poetry in the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam is to be taken as metaphorical, while Vedic verses are strictly literal and Puranic verses focus more on the moral the history is teaching than the exact historical facts. This is mentioned by Śrī Jīva in Tattva-sandarbha:

“The Vedas, Puranas, and poetic works instruct one like a master, friend and beloved, respectively, but Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam enlightens us in all three categories.” Quote in Tattva-sandarbha Anuchedda 26

 

[2] To instill faith in today’s audience who espouse faith in modern science, Śrīla Prabhupada did want his devotee scientists to understand and express the structure of the universe in the language of modern science to affirm the authenticity of the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam’s scientific world view. He established the Bhaktivedanta Institute for that purpose. We see, however, still what an immense task that has been specifically because that level of scientific clarity wasn’t the objective of Śrīla Vyāsadeva, the author of the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam.

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2023 #12 – Ego Death Again

March 20th, 2023

Ego Death Again[1]

Last week, I was fortunate to visit Srila Kadamba Kanana Swami a few days before he passed from this world. He set the ideal example of how to leave this mortal frame—no drugs to dull the consciousness, fasting to further purify the mind, and in a resultant calm and clear consciousness constantly hearing the holy name.

 

When I thought about how he passed away and how he qualified himself for that moment by a life of full surrender to guru and Krishna, somehow the term “ego death” kept coming into my mind. Seeing how the Swami died, it seemed “ego death”—a state where one is no longer apparently ruled by bodily and mental dictates, which are the life of the false ego—was something the Swami seemed to have attained. I began to explore this concept beginning with how we acquire our present identification that ultimately needs to die and how as bhaktas we transcend it.

 

We acquire our present false ego practically at the time of our past death. At that moment, Sri Krishna, through His inconceivable potencies, gauges both our cumulative deeds and present desires and chooses a suitable body for our next life to help further purify us of ignorance. The complete identification with this next body is then accomplished by the false ego (ahaṅkāra), a subtle material element designed to funnel or delimit our consciousness to identify with the body that Krishna has selected as the most suitable vehicle to carry out our next karmic journey. As this false ego, as described above, is born from and embodies material consciousness, the aim of human life is to eventually transcend this identification as controller and enjoyer. But how to accomplish this ego death?

 

On the path of bhakti, it is attained when one fully surrenders to the will of God through His representatives and thus no longer follows the irrational impulses of the body and mind. As the ego dies out of neglect, and one is no longer bound by bodily identification, then—like the Swami—fully identified as Krishna’s eternal servant, one faces the death of the material body fearlessly.

 

Although Kadamba Kanana Swami was a sannyāsī, specifically an order focused on “dying while living” by ideally leading a renounced life, attaining ego death is not exclusive to any one ashram. A devotee in any position of life, by strictly focusing on God’s will, including their duties within this world, can identify as servant of guru and Krishna and transcend the false ego, or at least put oneself in the best position to do so, as eventually old age and death overtly crush our sense of control and seem to leave us little choice anyway.

 

The Swami’s death was certainly impressive. It should inspire all of us to take an inventory of our sincerity and to aspire for the path of “ego death” offered in our tradition:

 

“Śukadeva Gosvāmī, however, gave this direction to him as follows: “My dear King, if you want to be fearless in meeting your death next week (for actually everyone is afraid at the point of death), then you must immediately begin the process of hearing and chanting and remembering God.” If one can chant and hear Hare Kṛṣṇa and always remember Lord Kṛṣṇa, then he is sure to become fearless of death, which may come at any moment.” (NOD, Chapter Two)

 


[1] By the number of times I have broached this subject in Monday Morning Greetings over the years, you may think I have an obsession with the subject of death. But it’s not an obsession. It’s just one of the most prominent subjects discussed in our philosophy. The Bhagavad-gītā dedicates a whole chapter to the subject of death (Ch. 8) and the seminal inquiry on which the whole Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam is based centers on facing impending death.

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2023 #11 – Why Do We Make God Work So Hard?

March 13th, 2023

I just arrived in the USA from India and left for Colombia yesterday. My computer also just came back from being serviced, so I wasn’t able to complete a new Monday Morning Greetings for this week. This is a reprint from six years ago.

 

Why Do We Make God Work So Hard?

 

June 5, 2017

I have an image of an aspect of my life that has this certain background music. I can’t exactly describe that tune in writing. But it is the background music for the cartoon image of a happy-go-lucky soul who is walking down the street oblivious to the impending disaster ahead and then either slips and falls or gets a pie thrown in his face. He gets up with confidence and begins walking with the same obliviousness to his impending danger until the same thing happens again and again. Let me see if I can describe this more vividly: It would be like the cartoon character Goofy, created by Disney in the early thirties, who, in each episode, haplessly fumbles over the same task repeatedly.[1]

 

Actually, this is not how I see my life, but there is a specific aspect of my life that I like to describe in this comedic sense, as it seems to be a fit to an interesting definition of comedy that I had first heard about from a friend and a professional comedian. He described comedy as tragedy plus time. I am not exactly looking back at tragedy in my life, but more like a pattern of folly that seems to so much fit this hapless image of one being oblivious to one’s folly and falling prey to it again and again.

 

About a month ago, after making a mistake in not only how I was thinking about something but also in how I had reacted to it, and then seeing the anxiety it caused, I had a very strong realization that seemed to correct and complete my vision of the world. I was surprised because I was convinced that I was already seeing the world perfectly clear, but I had one doubt. This pattern has been repeating itself every year, often several times a year, for the last 42 years, since beginning Krishna consciousness. I always think that I am seeing things clearly, until some upheaval, big or small, comes along that gives me a newer, more complete vision and with the same certainty as before. I often share this story with others with the background music of Goofy to express how hapless we are in walking the world with a vision of confidence, although destiny repeatedly turns our world on its head again and again.

 

I think my folly, however, is not unique, for until one’s mind is completely pure, it is the nature of the mind to see the world through a defective lens without even realizing one is looking through it. I think that therefore my story should be, in a sense, everyone’s story on the spiritual path. Our natural confidence in how we see the world should be repeatedly shaken by destiny to help give us newer and higher visions of reality even though at the time we are probably not aware that we are seeing things through a distorted lens.

 

In reflecting on how many thousands of components of vision have been added to my life to improve my vision of reality and reflecting on how many more realizations I probably require in the future, I am humbled. Reflecting in this way also helps me to realize how many unlimited components of truth one requires to actually be tattva-darśana, one who sees the truth, and how hard Krishna has to work, so to speak, to bring us to that point. And that leads to my final realization and the title of this post:

 

Why do we make God work so hard?

 

 


[1] From Wikipedia: “Goofy is a tall, anthropomorphic dog with a Southern drawl, and typically wears a turtle neck and vest, with pants, shoes, white gloves, and a tall hat originally designed as a rumpled fedora.”

 

Monday Morning Greetings 2023 #10 – God’s Problem: The Story of Sri Chaitanya

March 6th, 2023

I tried my hardest but wasn’t able to finish this week’s Monday Morning Greetings. This is the fourth week without a computer where I write my Monday Morning Greetings by hand. Within two weeks I should have my computer back. In one sense I will miss writing by hand. When I put my pen to the page it really activates my mind and ideas flow very spontaneously. In fact, I still may write my first draft by hand. The problem comes when I have to organize them for clarity and force without a word processor. Even as I go back to writing by computer, I am now free from a lingering fear: “What if my computer breaks and I can’t write my Monday Morning Greetings?” As I hope you can see, I am very much dedicated to this craft and service but at least I am now no longer a slave to technology to write them.

 

For this week’s Monday Morning Greetings, in honor of Sri Gaura-purnima, I will again offer an article that I have posted many times for this day called “God’s Problem.” I was hesitant to post it again, but when I read it over it still seemed very fresh as a short explanation and glorification of Sri Chaitanya Mahaprabhu. Enjoy!

 

 

God’s Problem: The Story of Sri Chaitanya

March 21, 2016

 

God has a problem.

 

And it is the same problem that we have.

 

What’s the problem?

 

He is not a devotee.

 

What is a devotee?

 

A devotee is one who loves God.

 

And love means to have a particular relationship with God. Why is that our problem?

 

Because in this sense we are trying to become devotees. But why is that a problem for God?

 

It’s a problem because God doesn’t have love of God. How does God lack that?

 

Love of God is in the heart of His devotees, not in God’s. God is the object of such love (the beloved), not the abode of such love (the lover of God, the devotee).

 

And why is that such a problem?

 

It’s a problem because to love is higher than to be loved. God is supposed to be the Supreme Enjoyer, but He lacks the highest pleasure—to love God—and to lack love (as the giver) is a problem.

 

What does God do about that? Surely, He can make a solution.

 

Yes, that is the story of Sri Chaitanya. God becomes His own devotee to become complete in His experience of love. And not only does He become a devotee, but He becomes His highest devotee, Sri Radha, at the height of Her love, in Her deepest feelings of love—Her moments of separation from Krishna.

 

Happy Gaura-purnima (The appearance of Sri Chaitanya)!