Waves of Devotion

Jayadvaita Swami would confidently throw down the gauntlet to his audience: “What could be more important than self-realization?!” The question-and-answer booth at the New York Ratha-yātrā was surrounded by intelligent and inquisitive New Yorkers. Some took up his dare, yet no one could meet his challenge.

When I watched those exchanges, I immediately thought about the time Śrīla Prabhupāda highlighted the importance of self-realization, but in a different way. Śrīla Prabhupāda was asked to explain the difference between a human being and an animal. I loved his reply: “A human being can ask the question ‘why am I suffering?’” Śrīla Prabhupāda was raising the same challenge that is found in Jayadvaita’s inquiry, but we need to dig deeper to understand how.

The question “why am I suffering” implies another important question: “what did I do wrong?” Suffering or pain is not necessarily a bad thing if we look at the issue philosophically. For example, if you did not suffer when accidentally resting your hand on a hot stove, you might not lift it off the stove and therefore could be seriously injured or even die. Suffering or pain, similarly, inspires one to seek the cause of one’s suffering and fully eradicate our problem at its root. But an intelligent person does not stop with the question “what did I do wrong?” There are deeper levels to the inquiry.

As soon as we ask, “what did I do wrong?” another question naturally arises: “what should I be doing?” But one more question must be asked.

The question “what should I be doing?” naturally inspires an intelligent person to inquire about his nature: “What I am made of and what am I made for?” For unless you realize the answer to that inquiry, how you can know what to do? For example, Ayurveda describes disease as a “crime against nature.” When there is suffering in the body, to answer the question of what went wrong and what should be done about it, we need to discover the natural condition that we violated, which is the ultimate cause of our woes.

And this gets us back to our initial inquiry and why no one could meet Jayadvaita Swami’s challenge: “What could be more important than self-realization?” Unless one realizes one’s true nature, which is called self-realization, how can one be fully in alignment with one’s being and avoid the suffering which is simply an indication that something is wrong? And this discussion also gets us back to Śrīla Prabhupāda’s insight about the difference between a human being and animal. The inquiry into suffering, which is the specialty of a human, also leads an intelligent person, as we have progressively shown, to the most important pursuit in alleviating suffering—self-realization. So, the challenge still stands: “what can be more important than self-realization?”

athāto brahma jijñāsā

“Human life is meant for inquiry into the Absolute Truth.” (Vedānta-sūtra 1.1.1)

As part of our Metro Mantra Sanga,[1] we hosted Hari-kirtana das for a weekend of programs to hear about his new book, Journey Into the Bhagavad Gita.[2] The programs were in an interview format. In both programs I questioned him extensively about his work. As a student of Gita and speaker and writer about its philosophy for many years myself, I was impressed with what he has accomplished—an accessible guide and rendition of the Gita imbued with his conviction of the power of its message.

I first questioned Hari-kirtana about the necessity for his Gita commentary, especially when Srila Prabhupada was already so successful in widely communicating the message of the book. He marveled at how successful Srila Prabhupada’s Gita was in attracting so many people, including himself, to fully commit to the Gita’s teachings and assist him in his mission. Yet Hari-kirtana was convinced by his years of experience as a wisdom teacher in the yoga world that many people in his western and contemporary audience needed a longer road to the Gita as an introduction to bhakti.

In the introduction to his book, Hari-kirtana clearly outlines the people he is targeting: the spiritual but not religious; those unfulfilled, wounded or abandoned by religion; those who are interested in principles of leadership and personal growth; and those who want to learn about yoga philosophy. He then describes for each what the Gita uniquely offers to those people if they can be convinced to enter the text. For example, he describes that for those disappointed with religion, “the Gita offers comprehensive answers to reasonable questions, deific opinions rather than commandments, and the voice of a patient and compassionate God who welcomes everyone.”

Hari-kirtana’s objective is to get these people to look at the world through the lens of the Gita with the confidence that they will get a profound clarity about what the world is and how to live in it. His challenge, as he sees it, is that the Gita’s philosophical worldview is so radically different from that of his contemporary western audience. He thus carefully educates his audience in the various philosophical concepts required to understand and appreciate the Gita’s worldview. Also, he helps a western contemporary audience to decipher the numerous references to people, relationships and events specific to Vedic culture that appear in the Gita.

As a writer, I appreciate a book that is focused, which means every chapter is relevant to a book’s theme, every paragraph is relevant to the chapter’s specific development of that theme, and every sentence is relevant to the paragraph’s development of the chapter. The book is exceptionally focused! Hari-kirtana credits the brilliant contribution of his wife, Elizabeth. She is a successful professional documentary film maker, expert at visual storytelling, and she gave constant critical input along his three-year journey to complete the text.

Let me finish by stating what I have gleaned as the book’s theme and briefly describe how the book is organized to develop it.

The purpose of this book is the give a western contemporary audience the tools to overcome the philosophical and cultural obstacles that challenge them to look, at least theoretically, at the world through the lens of the Gita so they may be able to experience its profound and convincing vision of reality.

Part One gives the reader the tools to become familiar with the Gita’s conceptual framework and guidance on how to follow and develop a deep sense of connection with the text.

Part Two offers a chaste rendition of the whole Gita within the limited frame of reference of his audience, who have been armed with the tools he has given them in Part One. I believe it is the first presentation of the Gita with only the Sanskrit transliteration and English verses side by side without any break in between to enable his audience to more readably get the flavor and flow of each chapter. To facilitate this experience, there is a prelude to each chapter that puts it in the context of the overall current. Each prelude gives an overview of the specific topics covered in the chapter and even highlights for the reader specific significant passages to look out for.

In Part Three Hari-kirtana provides autobiographical stories to help the reader see how by seeing through the lens of the Gita, as he did, one can much better understand and practically navigate life in the modern world. He finishes by offering exploratory tools and practical suggestions for incorporating the Gita’s teachings into one’s life.

Metro Mantra Sangha felt honored to host Hari-kirtana and discuss his contribution to our Vaisnava lineage. The audience was enthralled by his presentation and lauded his mission in the service of Srila Prabhupada to help the western contemporary audience find a new perspective: “Instead of looking at the Gita through the lens that the world offers us, look at the world through the lens that the Bhagavad Gita offers us.”

[1] https://wavesofdevotion.com/2024/06/17/metro-mantra-sanga/

[2] Hari-kirtana das’s book, Journey Into the Bhagavad Gita, is available here. For more about Hari-kirtana das, you can visit his website.

Betrayed! [1]

Last week I wrote about expediency, but it was beyond the scope of the entry to illustrate the concept with an example. A discussion of how one responds to betrayal would be an excellent way to broach the subject of how dharma can be brushed aside to serve one’s immediate personal feelings. There seems to be no deeper hurt and stronger impetus to strike back with vengeance than when one’s trust is violated. How to deal with being betrayed? I think the story of Vidura illustrates that best.

Vidura was renowned for his good counsel. When King Dhrtārastra, his elder brother, calls upon him, Vidura strongly advises him to instruct his son Duryodhana to return the legitimate share of the kingdom, which he had illegally usurped, to his cousin Yudhiṣṭhira. He outlines in detail the ruin it would bring upon the king if this was not done. Duryodhana overhears the conversation and immediately threatens his uncle:

“Who asked him to come here, the son of a kept mistress? He is so crooked that he spies in the interest of the enemy against those on whose support he has grown up. Toss him out of the palace immediately and leave him with only his breath.” (Bhāgavatam 3.1.15)

How painful! Not only was he thrown out of the palace in his twilight years without any possessions, by a kingdom that he served so humbly and selflessly his whole life, but he was also deeply insulted. What was especially painful was that the accusations against him were partially true. Although Vidura shared the same father with Dhrtārastra, his mother was not the queen, but a maidservant. Vidura thus dropped his bow at the door and immediately left “being pierced by arrows through the ears and afflicted to the core of his heart” (Bhāgavatam 3.1.16). Yes indeed he was hurt, but how he dealt with his betrayal was exemplary.

The Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam describes his attitude: “He was not sorry, for he considered the acts of the external energy to be supreme.” (Bhāgavatam 3.1.16) In other words, although Duryodhana betrayed him, he understood that nothing moves without the sanction of God. He thus saw the same energy that was moving Duryodhana to offense and destruction was giving him a greater opportunity to fully engage in devotional service.

The lesson from Vidura is clear. When betrayed, don’t only look at māyā as God’s energy which is entangling the person who is hurting you. See it also as His illuminating energy moving the world for your enlightenment. If you focus on māyā externally in terms of its illusory effect on your perpetrator, your bitterness and victimhood will only increase. If you see, however, that the same māyā is acting internally in terms of helping you to grow, your bitterness will reduce and your consciousness will elevate. In his purport to this verse, Śrīla Prabhupāda describes how Vidura was able to properly observe the workings of God’s energy: “Māyā, the supreme energy of the Lord acted both internally and externally”.[2]

I was also reminded of Socrates in the matter of viewing betrayal in this way. After serving his country by virtue of his wisdom and example, the government turns on him. He is falsely accused and condemned to die. His only request is to address his judge and jury, the senate of Greece. He looks at them intently and delivers his message: “If you think you can harm me, you will not harm me, you will only harm yourself.” He thus sees his apparent betrayal in the same way as Vidura, that the worst harm to oneself is not what others do to you, but the actions one takes that distance oneself from one’s spiritual nature as a servant of God. So if you harm another with vengeance to satisfy your feeling of being wronged, it is actually the cause of your own ruin, but if you see the situation as God’s will, then it’s a blessing which brings you closer to Krishna.

“Every betrayal contains a perfect moment, a coin stamped heads and tails with salvation on the other side.” — Barbara Kingsolver, The Poisonwood Bible

[1] This week is a new edit of a Monday Morning Greeting originally published June 24, 2019.

[2] There are also specific philosophical terms for this phenomenon. When māyā works to further one’s devotion it is called yogamāyā, the internal potency, and when it moves to further one’s material entanglement it is called mahamāyā, the external potency.

Those who have been following my Monday Morning Greetings know I have several times approached the issue of reconciling the apparent contradiction that although acts of humility appear to demonstrate a lack of self-esteem, a humble person is actually psychologically healthy. I have written several articles on this point and will share today a new insight on the subject beginning first with the definition of humility that I feel best resolves our quandary.

Humility is seeing God everywhere. Imagine how insignificant one feels as one fully realizes that one is just an infinitesimal particle of God’s infinite magnificence.

The Bṛhad-bhāgavatāmṛta helps us further understand such humility in the description of how a very influential and respected leader of the brāhmaṇas at Kumbha-melā responds to the great saint Śrī Narada who has just declared him the topmost recipient of Krishna’s mercy:

“Who am I but a most wretched person? How much charity am I able to give? What opulence do I have? And how have I ever reciprocated with the Lord in devotional service?” Bṛhad-bhāgavatāmṛta, Part 1, 1.44

Śrī Gopiparanadhana in his commentary on this verse explains the psychology of a very powerful and respected person who sees the reality of God’s majesty, and how that person can think in the most modest of ways:

“Any true devotee of Kṛṣṇa considers himself insignificant, thinking himself one of countless jīvas who are mere sparks of God’s splendor. The devotee is sorry for having foolishly rebelled against his creator. And reflecting on this rebellion, he thinks that his relative influence among other fallen jīvas means little.”

Now that we have hopefully shown how this vision of God invokes humility, let’s try to demonstrate how it also helps reconcile how a humble person maintains self-esteem despite a sense of relative insignificance. I have written about this in some personal notes:

We feel insignificant but not worthless because God is so merciful that He can love every soul and the greatest feeling of worth is to be loved, which can be felt deeply by one who is humble. It’s just like a baby in its mother’s arms. The baby feels completely dependent on the mother, but also feels very loved and valued. As there is nothing that psychologically affirms one’s self-worth more than being loved and feeling love in one’s heart in response, neither the infinitesimal soul nor the small child can ever feel a lack of self-esteem, despite being totally dependent on one much greater than themselves.

Conclusion: Humility and self-esteem, as experienced by a pure devotee, can never be in opposition.

For many years I had the idea of writing a book called The Mind of God. It was inspired many years ago by the story of the passing away of Bhīṣmadeva. That episode describes the lengths Śrī Krishna would go to for the purpose of glorifying His devotees. For various reasons I choose not to write that book, but the idea always stayed with me. Recently, while studying the Śikṣāṣṭaka prayers, the last chapter in the Śrī Caitanya-caritāmṛta, I started to see that chapter through the lens of the mind of Śrī Caitanya.

Śrī Caitanya comes to fulfill both internal and external reasons for His descent. That is, He comes both for Himself and for others. For Himself He was Krishna in the form of a devotee seeking to relish the love and ecstasy of Śrī Radha, His topmost devotee, at the height of Her love. He already had been almost 18 years in Puri, the place where he had come specifically for that purpose. He had just heard from Śrī Advaita that the external reason for his descent (why He came for others) was complete—the world by His mercy was now flooded with love of God. In this last year of His life, He could cultivate and relish ecstatic love for Krishna in the mood of Śrī Radha with even more focus. Almost all His time is thus spent in the Gambhīra, a little cave-like room in Kāśī Miśra’s house, with Rāmānanda Rāya and Svarūpa Dāmodara, his most confidential associates. He relishes verses and songs which encapsulate and excite the mood of Śrī Radha’s devotion which He had come to attain. Often He becomes so overwhelmed with those feelings that His words and emotional outbursts appear like the expressions of a mad person. His close associates, however, know better. He had entered deeply into the very heart of Śrī Radha’s deepest devotion. They watched as His devotion became so spontaneous that when a particular feeling would embrace His heart, He would ride that emotion into the night reciting related verses and relishing their taste

As one who is pure, He did not consider Himself advanced in devotion. But it is obvious to His closest followers that Śrī Caitanya is relishing rādhā-bhāva, the ecstatic mood of Śrī Radha, and He understands that indeed something wonderful is happening. As He realizes that both His missions are coming to fruition, a sense of gratitude overwhelms Him, and the cause of His fortune becomes clear to Him. He is a recipient of the unbounded mercy of nāma-saṅkīrtana, the chanting of the holy name! Overwhelmed by that feeling, He begins to carry that particular emotion into the night. He recites verse after verse glorifying the holy name and deeply relishes their taste. As His internal focus on chanting the holy name becomes deeper and reaches its height, the Śikṣāṣṭakam prayers, his ultimate glorification of the holy name, burst from his heart: “Paraṁ vijayate śrī-kṛṣṇa-saṅkīrtanam!” (All glories to śrī-kṛṣṇa-saṅkīrtana).

And that is the mind of God!