The Fault Is Not the Whole Person![1]
About thirty-five years ago, I called Tamal Krishna Maharaja to ask for a small donation. A friend of ours and his wife were in dire straits, and I thought I should take up a small collection to help them. He agreed before I could give him the caveat, “Do you know what that person did?” When I did tell him, he immediately replied, “Yes, but the fault is not the whole person. I love him!”
What he said struck me deeply, and it has stayed with me ever since.
Like most of us, I can’t count the number of times people have rubbed me the wrong way or even mistreated me.[2] Nor can I count the number of times that a casual remark, which became embedded in my moral compass, has saved me from the degradation of resentment, especially when the person I was disturbed with was, by all accounts, a sincere devotee.
There are many examples of this principle of liberality in bhakti literature. One of the most prominent is the story of Kala Krishnadasa. Although he was entrusted with serving as Śrī Caitanya’s personal assistant during the Lord’s pilgrimage to South India, he was somehow allured by the women of the nomadic Bhaṭṭathāri community. Śrī Caitanya personally rescued him but naturally relieved him of his service. Yet when they returned to Jagannātha Purī, Lord Nityānanda, along with Jagadānanda and Mukunda, refused to see Kala Krishnadasa solely through the lens of his mistake. Appreciating his simplicity and devotion, they arranged for him to be engaged in a very responsible service — carrying the news of the Lord’s return to Mother Śacī and the devotees of Bengal.
Whenever I think of this subject, I remember an elderly, unmarried Indian businessman I knew who retired to Vrindavan and lived near the temple in his own house. He was kind and generous, substantially helped ISKCON, and even became close to Śrīla Prabhupāda. Some of the locals, however, caught him in an impropriety with a woman and maliciously broadcast it far and wide. I was struck, in contrast, by how compassionately his sādhu godbrothers from the Char-sampradāya dealt with him. They came at once, and rather than harp on his faults or deal with him punitively, they respected him for his otherwise notable career in devotion. With compassion, however, they advised him to leave his house and invited him to live the rest of his life in their ashram, where he would be better protected from his weaknesses.
Successful practitioners of bhakti-yoga embrace this generous vision wholeheartedly, wary of the danger of offense. A friend of mine, who is adept in devotional meditation, often shares his personal practices with me. Before he even picks up his beads to chant, he spends over an hour praying for the mercy of the great teachers in our lineage, including the principal associates of Śrī Caitanya and Śrī Krishna. He then prays to more than a hundred godbrothers and godsisters, meditating on each one’s unique qualities of service and devotion. What impressed me most was that he meditates, in his own words, on “both those who are sva-pakṣa and vipakṣa.” In other words, he meditates not only on the like-minded (sva-pakṣa), who share his mood, but also on those whose views oppose (vipakṣa) his more reclusive approach to devotion. He explained that he includes them because he doesn’t want to be blind to their dedication to Krishna consciousness. He understands that focusing only on one’s differences with another devotee inevitably leads to vaiṣṇava-aparādha.
One must not let the faults of someone who worships Krishna with exclusive devotion obscure one’s vision of that devotion. This principle is so essential on the path of bhakti-yoga that in the Bhagavad-gītā (9.30) Krishna asks His devotees to apply it even in the extreme. He emphatically declares that a resolute devotee who commits even a most abominable act must still be considered a sādhu, a saintly person, because of his core commitment to pure devotion.[3]
We live in an age of quarrel and confusion. Unless they remain vigilant, even dedicated spiritual practitioners can fall prey to vaiṣṇava-aparādha by letting another devotee’s mistakes, or merely differences in viewpoint or temperament, obscure that devotee’s otherwise substantial devotion.
Beware: the fault is not the whole person!
[1] This is a newly edited version of a post originally published on March 15, 2021.
[2] Of course, this doesn’t discount the many people I have disturbed. I pray that they, too, can see beyond my frailties.
[3] Like many verses in Vaiṣṇava literature, its meaning runs deeper than a few sentences of explanation can convey. What this verse does not support is bad character in the name of devotion. As Śrīla Prabhupāda writes in his purport to Bhagavad-gītā 9.30: “On the other hand, one should not misunderstand that a devotee in transcendental devotional service can act in all kinds of abominable ways; this verse only refers to an accident due to the strong power of material connections.”