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Monk Apprentices in the Wild West? Part 3

Thu, 08 Apr 2010 17:03:59 -0600

Reading the preceding blogs in this series, a young monk apprentice emailed me:

"I am writing to you seeking guidance. I just read your latest article on your website, and devotees are also discussing it on Facebook. It really made me think deeply. Honestly I feel discouraged, and my mind is afflicted by doubts. Especially for a person in my situation, staying in place where there is a lack of serious, purpose built and purpose driven men's ashrams'.

"So my question is, is it necessary for me being in saffron? Knowing well that there's no support and constant motivation for us brahmacharis in [country withheld]. Your article made me realise that I would actually do good as an upstanding bachelor or grihasta than always being frustrated by the lack of critical elements of 'leadership, camaraderie, facility, and training'. Oh Gurudev, I am in total darkness, falling at your lotus feet and praying to you for guidance."

What can I say. Experience has firmly convinced me that men in the brahmachari ashram should undergo only one category of pressure, with two subdivisions. Totally nothing from the outside. All the urging should emanate from within the candidate--first, to get in and, second, to stay in. This policy, followed by progressive ashrams in the world, reverses the social practices in earlier, beta versions of ISKCON.

An updated ISKCON, version 2.0, would approach ashram choice this way: a man contemplating entering monastic training has to solidly convince the saffron leaders that he is making a decision founded upon complete awareness of both what brahmachari life entails and what it will do for his future. Where I am involved, I generally give a prospective candidate a long look, intoning slowly, "Are you sure you know what you are getting into? Are you prepared for at least a few years' lifestyle of just humble, selfless bhakti--serving, chanting, reading, and kirtan, in a communal setting of simple living? Is this (the sweet nectar) your strong desire?" Of course, a genuine brahmachari ashram radiates attractiveness--its pristine atmosphere sells itself, to those inclined.

Once a man joins the saffron set, then no automatic, revolving enrollments. The ashram leaders and mentors should conduct annual or bi-annual reviews, in which everyone's file is lovingly up for reflection and review. The ashram staff is duty- and love-bound to ensure that no one over-estimates his capacity, straining to be someone he is not, in a placement that no longer works for his balanced development in bhakti.

Needless to say, a monk apprenticeship is not every man's cup of herb tea. Though sincerely considering it, individuals in some circumstances would best choose another bhakti lifestyle. No bar to becoming Krishna conscious, some of these situations entail:

those with unresolvable health or mental issues.
those extremely introverted or lacking basic social skills for living communally.
those with gender orientations that would lead to incongruity in a close-knit all-male environ.
those whose primary motivation is "give me anything other than the working world--even the ashram is better than getting a job."

Recently, somewhere in the ISKCON world, in the southern hemisphere, a monk apprentice suddenly, without a word, departed the ashram for full material life, and then astonished his comrades by launching an Internet campaign of, shall we say, creative writing, depicting his brahmachari years as emotionally coerced suffering. Later he revealed to a lady devotee that prior to his devotee years, his gender inclinations had been elastic. Commonplace today, gender variables are no barrier to a bhakti practice, at home. An ashram, however, is a special niche. The brahmachari comrades of this former monk apprentice, still deeply valuing this person, were saddened more by the unnecessary stress and pain their friend had inflicted upon himself, than by the glaring lack of disclosure and interpersonal honesty. Hiding and bottling up such significant psycho-physical tendencies for some years popped the cork in such a regrettable and immature manner.

Social statistics reveal the social realities in the West: ferocious, delirious, frantic, and deranged. Now India wants in, on a fast track to human disaster. Srila Prabhupada appropriately sums up the status quo (Bhag 1.1.10):

". . . so many sinful acts are being carried on that the people in general have neither peace of mind nor health of body. The student (brahmachari) communities are no longer being maintained, and householders do not observe the rules and regulations of the grihastha-ashram. In the Kali-yuga the whole atmosphere is surcharged with faithlessness. Men are no longer interested in spiritual values. Material sense gratification is now the standard of civilization. For the maintenance of such material civilizations, man has formed complex nations and communities, and there is a constant strain of hot and cold wars between these different groups. It has become very difficult, therefore, to raise the spiritual standard due to the present distorted values of human society. The sages of Naimisaranya are anxious to disentangle all fallen souls, and here they are seeking the remedy from Srila Suta Goswami."

Constructing a model for a genuine human society is a monumental task. Following the path of our spiritual predecessors, we seek their mercy and strength.

Monk Apprentices in the Wild West? Part 2

Mon, 05 Apr 2010 16:37:37 -0600

In a spiritually progressive Vaishnava community, everyone profits from a genuine program of monk apprenticeship, the brahmachari ashram. The men participating receive a solid foundation in sense control and discipline, in pursuance of scriptural study and its application. Necessary social advantages in a spiritual society, such as cooperation and voluntary selfless service, predominate. And of course, wouldn't it be nice that men at least learn courtesy, sensitivity, and good manners?

Knowledge and the distribution of knowledge is the hallmark of a man properly situated in the ashram. Needless to say, in ISKCON version 2.0, appropriating the monk manpower for a fund-rasing concentration is taboo, . The brahmachari ashram gives the man a "once in a lifetime" opportunity for substantial immersion in the sacred texts, their assimilation, and their distribution. "Love to read Srila Prabhupada's books, and love to distribute them, one way or another" is the motto. Striving to communicate effectively the timeless message of bhakti-yoga, according to the current world context, taxes the brain of the savvy and compassionate brahmachari. Especially outreach work at universities, so demanding of patience and determination, expands both the material and spiritual skill-set of the monk apprentice.

Bhakti is "the kitchen religion." Moreover, often it is said: "Just as women like to talk, men like to eat." The ashram serves as probably the only place these days where a Western male practitioner of bhakti can acquire sensational cooking abilities that will, regardless of his future choices, aid him lifelong. The tongue is the most powerful sense, and certainly--both in the ashram and out--tasty prasad rocks and rules. Lovingly prepared "monk food," saturated with bhakti, captures the sensory world of the cultivated.

Why keep the brahmacharis locked up, cloistered? For cultivating everyone except single ladies, a genuine monk apprentice is a strikingly impressive person--a gallant yet humble hero, as he circulates among guests and contacts who appreciate spiritual culture and integrity. Although the Western world has long discarded it--and the new India, lamentably, is racing to catch up--fundamental integrity is a prerequisite for a good and just human society. Brahmacharis and their abode should radiate this spiritual jewel.

"Who me--marry a former brahmachari?" Whether in the material or the ISKCON society, ladies know it's so hard these days to find a good man. Pulverized and vulgarized by today's hedonistic overload, men have lost their backbone, their stamina, their reliability. Indeed, racking up the hits in the girl-getting game, stripped of sober intelligence and fortitude, men have lost their very self. Lady devotees, please meditate upon Prabhupada's statement that the brahmachari ashram is the best training for both those renunciant candidates who remain lifelong as well as for those who choose to graduate. "Especially meant for training both the attached and the detached," the genuine program of monk apprenticeship generates an important and socially attractive by-product. It benefits Vaishnavis as a lucrative wellspring of future marriage candidates--that is, for the discriminating lady who has on her mind steady progress back to Godhead.

Obviously, outside of India, statistics show that a significant number of brahmacharis will eventually choose to marry. Lucky is the lady who gets a man who has practiced sense control, even at least for some years. A solid assurance that a potential husband will be Krishna conscious in the future is the time he has spent as an authentic, progressive brahmachari in the past. Realistically speaking, even if after marriage such a man dips in his practice, generally after some time, he'll eventually re-stabilize himself, remembering the sweet taste for bhakti knowledge and its practice, so heartily experienced during his apprenticeship days. Difficult it is, no doubt, to revive something never acquired.

The entire ISKCON devotional community can feel pride in a real brahmachari ashram. Householders, the vast majority in ISKCON, want to see monk apprentices who are industrious, competent, hard-working, morally upright, and psychologically wholesome. No one benefits from the negative: lazy, goal-less, irresponsible men, who seem to loiter in the ashram just to escape getting on with their life. "I don't want to get married now, and I don't want to work, so I think I'll be a brahmachari . . . ." That rationale won't get a man far, in a genuine ashram. Actually, that mindset should never even enter the ashram, from the onset. More on this later, in Part 3.

Monk Apprentices in the Wild West? Part 1

Mon, 15 Mar 2010 02:36:30 -0600

For progressive human beings, the classic Vedic social and occupational system designates at least the first part of a man's life for training as a celibate student, a monk in training, a brahmachari. When human society still had some notion of virtue, integrity, and sense-control, the social advantages for the entire human population were quite obvious. Srila Prabhupada gives a succinct overview in a Bhagavatam purport:

"The main purpose of ashrama-dharma is to awaken knowledge and detachment. The brahmachari asrama is the training ground for the prospective candidates. In this ashrama it is instructed that this material world is not actually the home of the living being. The conditioned souls under material bondage are prisoners of matter, and therefore self-realization is the ultimate aim of life. The whole system of ashrama-dharma is a means to detachment. One who fails to assimilate this spirit of detachment is allowed to enter into family life with the same spirit of detachment. Therefore, one who attains detachment may at once adopt the fourth order, namely, renounced, and thus live on charity only, not to accumulate wealth, but just to keep body and soul together for ultimate realization. Household life is for one who is attached, and the vanaprastha and sannyasa orders of life are for those who are detached from material life. The brahmachari-asrama is especially meant for training both the attached and detached." (S. bhag. 1:9:26)

In Part 2 we'll get back to that last statement, about the best training for all men, but for now let's think about the Wild West, where civilization would be a good idea. Is brahmachari life possible, outside of India? Is a concentrated program for men's walking the talk that the material world is not our home feasible in this century? Looking at the number of real brahmachari ashrams in Western ISKCON, one certainly has grounds for doubts. I'm not speaking of temples where a young man happens along who gets it in his head to "move in" or "join up," and then immediately he's clad in saffron, assigned a spot somewhere in the building, where he can fend for himself--until he becomes frustrated and leaves, to the wider congregation, or to marry, or to go away entirely.

For example, in all of the USA and Canada, where ISKCON has been established from its beginning in the sixties, now you can easily count the number of serious, dedicated brahmachari operations on just one hand. Down-under, where the distances are huge and the population small, you'd find two. Indeed, outside of India, brahmacharis in ISKCON have made it onto the list of endangered species. The social environment of the West during the past decades didn't help. Consider the intense careerism and the drive for money--that is, before the Great Recession hit--and the tsunami of wanton sensuality, especially the destructive lifestyles of the party, club, and drug scene so essential to contemporary urban life. Combine these woes with the reality that most ISKCON temples in the West have been unable to offer genuine brahmachari training for quite some time, and you can see the result at Sunday gatherings: a speck of saffron at best, amidst a sea of white kurtas, multi-colored saris, and conventional western attire.

Let us recall the original purpose of the classic Vedic social and occupational system. Revisiting the same Bhagavatam purport, we may note: "to accelerate transcendental qualities of the individual person so that he may gradually realize his spiritual identity and thus act accordingly to get free from material bondage, or conditional life." Brahmachari life is a highly focused career-calling, an accelerated intensive for attaining freedom from material existence. Unimpeded by the normal material priorities, pursuits, and ambitions, it offers a substantial swim in the endless ocean of selfless devotional service. Chop out of life that aim, to escape material bondage and climb aboard the spiritual plane, and I agree--entering brahmachari life makes no sense. Hence, to many Western eyes, it is incomprehensible. Last week in New Zealand a media controversy arose about a popular mega-church. At the top of the news articles, the prime controversies were paraded: a pastor pushy about getting money and who--God forbid--arranged, among his congregation, meetings for only men . . .

Sometimes even our own ISKCON devotees have difficulty grasping the contemporary importance of brahmachari life. That's understandable, I think, owing to the lack of serious, "purpose built and purpose driven" men's ashrams. Honestly, I do believe it better men live a lifestyle in the wider congregation, as an upstanding bachelor or householder, than they enter into a pseudo brahmachari situation, where--minus the critical elements of leadership, camaraderie, facility, and training--only the dye in the cloth is there to give support.

Return to the Scene of the Crime—for the Best Reason

Tue, 01 Dec 2009 14:10:17 -0700

“Maharaja, we’ve arranged a program for you at Yale University,” the brahmacaris, the monks, at the Bhakti Center in Manhattan, New York City, happily informed me. My heart went thud. I hadn’t been back to my alma mater since graduation, May ’72.

One month after that ceremony of cap and gown, I discovered Srila Prabhupada’s books, and after pouring over them four hours a day, through six continuous months, in December I made my first visit to the New York temple. I became a fulltime resident there in March of ’73.

What did Mother Yale, as its flock call the institution, mean to me? I remember the rooms of conservative, straight-laced students, their walls draped with huge school banners that said,” For God, For Country, For Yale.” I never hung out with those types.

The social activists and the fancy-free were my crowd. To me, then, Yale was four years of frustration in my search for the highest knowledge, and depressing disappointment with mundane political and economic solutions to the world’s problems.

It also meant the lifestyle of a Kali-yuga student. Upon coming to Krishna consciousness, I so regretted the deep and vile ignorance of my previous years that I never wanted to see the distinctive architecture of the Yale campus again.

Now, thirty seven years later, devotees are asking me to go there, to tactfully present Lord Chaitanya’s mercy. They don’t know that to do so, I have to confront a vast lagoon of deeply buried emotional intensity: “My wasted life--why did I willfully forget Krishna and toil uselessly in material existence!”

Since beginning my bhakti endeavor, I’ve always blamed Mother Yale for the regretful nondevotee years spent on her lap and for all the illusions fed me. She certainly can obscure real knowledge and drown her nescient children in pools of sophisticated decadence. On the other hand, I do now agree that her tabernacles and citadels have the potential for truly higher education, leading to significant individual and societal transformation.

The night of the outreach program, the Manhattan devotees gleefully drove me around the campus. “Maharaja, do you remember? What dormitory did you live in? How has the campus changed?”

Yes, Mother is guilty as charged, but that night, as I reconnected, for Krishna’s service, I fully faced up to my own foul play: I had sought to enjoy and control, voluntarily embracing the endless network of maya.

Let the next chapter begin: the King of all knowledge and confidential wisdom marries Mum. Or at least they can date.

Courage at Home

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 09:45:42 -0700

Visiting Hartford during my travels in the USA, I witnessed the amazing devotional determination and steadfastness of my Godbrother Pyari Mohan and his wife, Jivanausadhi. He started his preaching in Hartford while a brahmacari in 1981, and then a year or so later decided the grhastha ashram was most appropriate for his bhakti endeavors. The couple have staffed the Hartford center since that time, in the same building, serving the people, year after year, decade after decade. Pyari and Jiva, as they are known, push on, soon to complete their third decade as the Hartford preaching team. Meanwhile, their family has proliferated into its third generation,

The center they've maintained all this time is a large house, with a temple area, kitchen, public bathroom, and lounge on the ground floor. Upstairs, in a few small rooms, is where Pyari Mohan and his wife live, and where they have raised two children in Krishna consciousness. The daughter now has her own family and abode; the son is away at university. Simultaneously, grandfather Pyari and grandmother Jiva keep rolling on, with their selfless outreach service.

"We never took any money from temple donations for our maintenance," Pyari informed me. His wife and he were book distributors before marriage and continued that service after they became householders. When it became apparent that the proceeds from book distribution would not be enough to support a budding family, from out of the blue manifested another source of income. As a child Pyari was always interested in magic. Thinking to learn some tricks for his little daughter's birthday celebration, he sought out a magic shop. Emerging loaded with items, he wondered what had come over him--he had spent over $100.

After the birthday party, Pyari continued to develop his skills, gradually reached the level of a professional magician. "Say the magic word 'Radhe-Govinda'," he cues spellbound audiences at schools, private functions, and homes for the elderly. In the backyard behind the center, he keeps a dove and a rabbit, to aid his repertoire of tricks. His financial advice for grhastas wanting a missionary focus: "Stick to it, live simply. Krishna mysteriously arranges for your basic maintenance."

Jiva is a devastating cook--famous throughout ISKCON. Pyari humbly claims that people come to their center only because of her kitchen prowess. Praising her low-maintenance profile (and thanking Krishna for it), he told me how for their wedding anniversary he chivalrously drove her to Walmart (an American discount mega-store, equivalent down-under to Warehouse or Target)) and told her to pick out whatever she desired. Reciprocating with this gallant gesture, she replied that she wasn't interested in acquiring anything.

All glories to such a saintly and inspiring family.

India has everything

Tue, 20 Oct 2009 03:54:07 -0600

India has everything, the full spectrum, ranging from supreme purity to utter hypocrisy. After I cleared immigration at the Delhi airport, the customs officer pulled me out from the queue, and with a "Jai Maharaja," ushered me on my way, without delay. Today at the Bhaktivedanta Ashram at Govardhan, as I chanted japa in the courtyard, a construction worker suddenly emerged and, palms pressed together, he offered his respects. While renovating a room, the Holy Name had caught his ear, and therefore he had come out, impelled to honor the chanter. Right--such behavior would never happen anywhere else in the world.

But there is also the other side; therefore I never recommend that unseasoned devotees travel around India alone. One emerging devotee, after seeking my advice about her first trip to India, decided not to heed my admonitions about inexperienced women traveling alone there. Rather than going straight to her destination, she took a side trip to Vrindavan--her girlfriends had exhorted her, "You have to go there, to get the mercy."

Blissfully she floated into Vrindavan, where immediately she received the mercy: a marriage proposal--just what her heart had been aching for. Seeing her for the first time, the local wooer sought to wrap the deal up straightaway. He escorted her to Radha Kund, to the house of an astrologer, "mentioned in a tour-guide book of the holy places," she explained. He was a very serious sadhu, the young lady adjudged. "Oh how compatible! Your planets all complement his, and by your union all material and spiritual success will flow," the astrologer exclaimed. Her lonely heart soared to the heavens. He then described to her how the most auspicious time for this perfect match to be consummated was coming in just . . . two months. Her intelligence taken aback, but her heart chakra open, she replied that Devamrita Swami instructs devotees to gradually approach marriage, in a structured and explorative way. "Don't worry about that--I'll write to him and explain everything," the astrologer assured. She then emailed me: "I think your recommended approach to marriage is totally correct, but for some reason, I believe this astrologer. After all, he looked to me very knowledgeable--in fact, when we arrived, he was reading a Prabhupada book." Her verdict: "Astrology is part of the Vedas, and a bona fide science; I could arrange a letter from the astrologer, attesting to his qualifications."

My initial travel advice unheeded, I had scant desire to be the party spoiler--you know, the mean swami who pulls the brake on the Amorous Express, speeding on a one-way track to the guaranteed gingerbread house in the magical forest. I felt I had done my best, disseminating though the mentor system the axiom: "Marry in haste, repent at leisure." Nevertheless, with the understanding and sympathy that comes with age and experience, after some time I briefly wrote, : "I have been hesitating to reply, because the situation is not one I would like to enter into, and you are quite naive about India, astrologers, and astrology. So you have to proceed at your own risk. I know you are eager for a husband--that is natural for a lady your age, so I hope your plans work for you. Always remain in Krishna consciousness, whatever you do. That is the best that I can say." Fortunately, the cloudburst of romance had faded, even before my email arrived, and the sun of better discretion was higher in the sky--to her credit. She thanked me for my caring.

Hearing the story, Kesava Bharati Maharaja, an old India hand, living at Govardhan for fifteen years, chuckled, "For a few hundred rupees, anyone around here can keep an astrologer on retainer, for saying whatever necessary, whenever needed. Every shop in Vrindavan displays a Prabhupada picture prominently, to flatter ISKCON devotees. Just walk in, and immediately the shop-owner will start doing puja to the picture."

Seeking to keep healthy circulation, I asked the devotees at the ashram if they could recommend any masseurs in the town. Laughingly, they told me the first and last time they tried that was with one of my Godbrothers, eight years ago. The hands of the hired masseur, however, kept gravitating toward the groin area, despite the client's loud protests. Abruptly the senior Vaishnava ended the session. Later the ashram devotees heard that some upright locals in the town had chastised the masseur for this incident with the foreign devotee. Defending his occupation, he had innocently replied: "But many swamis from our area like when I do that."

Perhaps we have forgotten too quickly Srila Prabhupada's revelations about the varying types of characters inhabiting the holy places in India. He was especially careful about his ISKCON devotees wandering freestyle around Vrindavan, knowing their naivete and spiritual susceptibility to anyone who looks like a sadhu and speaks krsna-lila. For my serious disciples, I always instruct that they go to India with an experienced guide; otherwise better not to go at all.

A Hidden Memory

Tue, 20 Oct 2009 03:49:34 -0600

At the Krishna-Balaram Temple in Vrindavan, I had finished giving Bhagavatam class, when an elderly lady devotee handed me a gift box of maha-prasada with a signed card on top. "Thank you Devamrita Maharaja. You began the movement of Chaitanya Mahaprabhu in Bulgaria. Only one conversation and instruction to the first Bulgarian devotee, Radhavallabha das, trained him to be the first leader. Now the Krishna consciousness movement in Bulgaria is blossoming."

This unexpected consideration touched my heart while at the same time unsealed a flood of piercing memories, from dire and dangerous Iron Curtain days. In the summer of 1978 , way out on a limb, seeking Prabhupada's mercy, another devotee and I made our first foray into Soviet shackled Bulgaria. Freshly arrived in Europe a few months earlier, I was on a determined personal quest to catch Prabhupada's attention, eight months after his departure from this world. At that time, the ISKCON temple near Frankfurt, Germany, was the base for clandestine communist country preaching. The handful of devotees in that special program would disappear from the temple for weeks at a time, our itinerary kept secret--for our own safety and for the protection of the fledgling devotees in those imprisoned countries.

Pressed to arrive in Europe from Los Angeles before summer, I had schemed how to obtain my driver's license though I was still struggling at the wheel. Especially, learning on a manual gear shift put me in fits. Automatic transmissions, though common in the USA, were rare in Europe back then, so for Krishna's service I had to persevere. Because I had never driven before, my Godbrother Yadubhara das, ISKCON's famous film-maker, kindly gave me a few crash driving lessons. But the date for my departure loomed before my driving abilities had sufficiently bloomed. To quickly dispose of the road test, I had a great idea: Yadubhara would drive me to the test center, and we would follow behind the cars of people undergoing the test. Upon my repeatedly observing the test routine, I would then just practice and master only the route and maneuvers the road test specifically entailed. It worked--I got my license and flew overseas. Of course, though officially certified, my actual driving abilities were primitive, especially for changing gears. Yet, the communist bloc preaching, demanding massive long-distance driving, couldn't wait.

The ISKCON leader at the time, Harikesa Swami, resolved the dilemma. He took me out in his car on the autobahn--no speed limits--put me in the driver seat, and told me to go for it. As Mercedes and BMWs thundered by at 200 km (125 miles) per hour, I quickly got over my road fear. Gear shifting, however, still eluded me. Though not crucial on the autobahn, it was completely necessary on ordinary roads. Never mind--the time for a mission to Bulgaria was upon us. A 24-hour drive from Germany to Bulgaria would surely cure my ailing manual shifting. Off we went, my Godbrother Rama Sraddha--who couldn't drive at all--at my side, and yours truly at the wheel.

Noisily grinding the gear box all the 24 hours to Sofia, Bulgaria, I then lurched our car 7 more hours through the country to a secret program arranged at some unknown contact's house at Varna, on the Black Sea. There we celebrated Janmastami and Prabhupada's Vyasa Puja, aided by a translator, surrounded by 15 total strangers, all eager for something beyond the bleak life in Soviet Bulgaria. After two days the mini-festival ended, and the group dispersed. Fed by an informant at the gathering, the KGB roared into action, grilling all who had attended. Ram Sraddha and I had departed only hours before the raid. Regardless of the brutal Soviet regime, though, Krishna's nectarean poison was already at work. One of the people I had spoken to and instructed later emerged as Radhavallabha das, a fearless, empowered leader and organizer on behalf of Lord Chaitanya.

To be precise, there were already three or four Bulgarian devotees in Sofia, far inland to the west, but they were quite timid about preaching and just mixed bhakti into their private family lives, rarely venturing outside their tiny closed circle. Anyone knowing the ferocity of the Bulgarian KGB could hardly blame them. Radhavallabha's divine, bold service, however, decisively broke open the dam that had blocked the floodwaters of love of God there. Bulgarian devotees now refer to him as the original devotee, because it was he who first came out of the closet, to actually launch the active Krishna consciousness mission in that nation. He was certainly the original leader.

Radhavallabha turned out to be too good and effective at his precious devotional service. The KGB took note and let him know about it. Still he fearlessly pushed on, throughout Bulgaria. The Russian KGB, as you may have read in Salted Bread, were more subtle than their Bulgarian brethren. The Russian secret police would snatch devotees and then, after a mock trial, dispatch them to forced labor camps in Siberia, for gradually destroying their body and mind. The Bulgarians lacked such patience and finesse.

One day Radhavallabha was walking alongside a road, when out of nowhere appeared a speeding car. Veering off the road, it rammed him, and raced away--a trademark KGB killing.

Those were the days. We thought they'd never end.

I offer my most respectful obeisances to the departed bhakti hero Radhavallabha das, who, as a daring servant of Lord Chaitanya, is surely situated in the spiritual world.

Krishna in the Gita certifies the status of the devotee dedicated to spreading His glories: "Pure devotional service is guaranteed, and at the end he will come back to Me. There is no servant in this world more dear to Me than he, nor will there ever be one more dear."

Govardhana Hill Is My Sanctuary Now

Fri, 09 Oct 2009 22:43:48 -0600

Govardhana Hill is my sanctuary now, for 12 days. There's no material stimulation whatsoever for the mind here; hence neophyte devotees beware. To the unaware, life at the foot of Sri Giriraja, the king of mountains, can appear bleak and empty--despite horns honking, loudspeakers blaring atop nearby temples, and processions of pilgrims chanting and drumming as they circumambulate Govardhana.

What's a swami holiday here like? Dedication to ever fresher chanting, reading, and associating with Godbrothers are the main events. "The days are cooling down now," His Holiness Kesava Bharati Maharaja informs me. Sure, I silently reply--the temperature is 37 degrees C (98.6 F).

I don't care about the heat. O Sri Govardhana, the best servitor of Krishna, I look forward to my days at your foot. Casting aside bodily cares in the all-spiritual atmosphere, this lowly devotee will seek the shelter of the holy name. Tomorrow is Ekadasi--I can't wait to get my tongue and fingers in action. Best to clear out my email and finish settling in today. Tomorrow will be a feast of japa beads and divine sound. What a miracle Srila Prabhupada has performed--transporting en masse the lowest of humanity from Kali-yuga to Vrindavan's forests.

What is the Self? (part 2)

Fri, 09 Oct 2009 22:11:49 -0600

Spiritual Economics, University of Toronto, Canada

Sun, 09 Nov 2008 21:16:04 -0700

"Spiritual Economics" - lecture given by Devamrita Swami, to 150 professors, MBA students, and government officials at the main auditorium of the Rotman School of Business and Management, the University of Toronto, May 29, 2007. (click here read more)

The Rotman School has set out to redesign business education for the 21st century and become one of the world's top-tier business schools. Located in the heart of Toronto -- North America's third-largest financial centre and one of the world's most culturally-diverse cities -- the School is developing an innovative curriculum built around Integrative ThinkingTM and Business DesignTM. These are just some of the reasons why Bruce Nussbaum recently wrote in BusinessWeek Online, "Managers who want to 'get' the new innovation paradigm should check out [Rotman's] MBA and exec-ed programs"; Simon London wrote in the Financial Times, "A handful of enlightened business school deans – such as Robert Joss at Stanford, Dipak Jain at Kellogg and Roger Martin at the Rotman School – are starting to preach the gospel of integrated thinking, cross-disciplinary studies and learning-by-doing”; and The Wall Street Journal called the Rotman School a "hidden gem." The Rotman vision for 21st-century business education is built around Integrative Thinking. The current model of business education -- which divides business into a number of functional areas -- has changed little since its introduction in the early 20th century. Although this model provided global leadership for nearly a century, its inherent flaws are becoming increasingly problematic as the modern economy takes shape. One of the weaknesses of the traditional approach is that business problems rarely lie within the boundaries of individual functional areas, and cannot be resolved using the narrow models developed within functional boundaries. Today's business problems sprawl messily across the functions -- and across models -- creating a need for managers who can attend simultaneously to a vast array of interconnected variables and deal effectively with enigmatic choices. In short, modern leadership necessitates Integrative Thinking. That's why our curriculum is constantly evolving, with the introduction of new courses, content, and approaches. In short, the Rotman School is developing a new way to think. We invite you to be a part of it.

Video of Spiritual Economics Lecture in Canada

Sun, 15 Jun 2008 13:58:46 -0600

http://www.blinkx.com/video/devamrita-swami-spiritual-economics-university-of-toronto/q-hMeN0WUeJbMiVpzahkOg

Here We Are Again

Fri, 15 Jun 2007 17:34:52 -0600

While the alarm clock buzzed, in unison every bone and muscle screamed at me: “You haven’t taken even a short break for twenty days! ” Yes, I had been “on the burn,” since I left HH Giriraja Swami’s place in Santa Barbara, California, May 24. Now, three continents later, June 13, at the flat of Candidas das, in Manchester, UK, the body demanded I pay the price.

In the Bhagavad-gita (6.17), Lord Krishna advises: “He who is regulated in his habits of eating, sleeping, recreation, and work can mitigate all material pains by practicing the yoga system.” Amidst the first rays of the morning, I knew exactly what leisure activity would satisfy my heart and mind. Next to me, radiant with beauty, waited Pure Delight. Within easy reach, all 18 volumes sat on a shelf--Srimad-Bhagavatam. Soon I would have this unexcelled spiritual text back in my arms.

I showered, exercised, and chanted my 16 rounds of the mahamantra. Then gently I took in my hands the Bhagavatam Tenth Canto volume one. Affectionately cradling it and turning the pages, I knew life doesn’t get any better than this. Now nothing can do me any harm. My eyes hungrily devoured all the type--both the Sanskrit and English; my tongue and lips happily enunciated the sounds of every word; my parched mind determinedly drowned in the verses and Bhaktivedanta purports. I begged Lord Krishna, may the glorious Srimad-Bhagavatam saturate and elevate my abysmal consciousness.

“Bhakti, or devotional service, means engaging all our senses in the service of the Lord, the Supreme Personality of Godhead, the master of all the senses. When the spirit soul renders service unto the Supreme, there are two side effects. One is freed from all material designations, and one’s senses are purified simply by being employed in the service of the Lord.” (Narada Pancaratna, quoted in Cc. Madhya 19.170)

How wonderful a companion is the cream of Vedic literature--how sweet it is! And Srimad-bhagavatam is a the perfect low-maintenance partner. You simply pay a few hundred dollars for the set, and it’s yours for life, never to say goodbye. Not only is the thrill permanent, but also, with each passing year and reading, the delicious taste intensifies. Sometimes when you’re a bit in illusion, the Bhagavatam does seem to tell you things you don’t like to hear. But in saner moments, you know it’s true.

My trip of devotional service around the world began on the plane from Australia, Friday, May 18. After arriving in Los Angeles eighteen hours later, on the same calendar day, I gave class Saturday morning, and hosted a gathering that night. Sunday morning I gave class again and sat with HH Gopal Krishna Goswami for an initiation ceremony. At noon I gave Gaura Prema das and his wife Nitai Prema dasi the gayatri mantra. They said they were eager to serve the Deities--not just to have the brahmin label, so I agreed to the temple’s request for their second initiation. Then I drove down the highway two hours to San Diego for the Sunday evening program. After an overnight at the abode of Sikhi Mahiti das and the morning program, I returned to Los Angeles. Unlike last year’s trip to San Diego, this time no cars crashed into us.

The Los Angeles temple community was now packed with senior Vaishnavas, flying in for the annual Bhaktivedanta Book Trust management meeting. Meanwhile all day long, a steady stream of disciples, aspiring disciples, and well-wishers kept me busy in Krishna’s service. Finally, I caught up with the temple president Svavas Prabhu at his office, for a review of my disciples in Los Angeles. As always, there was good news and bad news. Yes, the jiva soul, part of the Supreme Soul, has its independence, to use or misuse. From the behavior/misbehavior analysis we moved on to outreach strategies. Svavas Prabhu expressed his desire to personally cultivate and develop young Americans, in a setting specifically for them--of course, that was music to my ears. The senior ISKCON leaders in North America are such wonderful personalities, but if they don’t “wade into the water”--immerse themselves in contact with the people--then what will be the future of ISKCON there?

On Tuesday morning, May 22, I retreated an hour and a half up the road to Giriraja Swami’s house, near Santa Barbara. He took one look at my weary bodily machine and called for his disciple who was a professional masseuse and acupuncturist. My visit to Maharaja’s place allowed me about thirty hours to unwind, before returning to Los Angeles Wednesday night. Giriraja Swami and I chatted about vital Krishna conscious topics, especially about the preeminent role of Srila Prabhupada’s books. Since he was a retired Governing Body Commissioner of South Africa, I sought his advice on management there, now that I had been requested to do that service.
When you’re young and green, often you think you know almost everything--you’re going to reinvent the wheel and turn the world upside down. Maturity tempers that brashness with the wisdom that others may actually know something valuable. Nevertheless, as my Godbrother HH Sivarama Swami relayed to me, “We may think that now, with all our decades of experience, we can direct younger devotees so they’ll avoid repeating ISKCON mistakes of the past, but actually not all of them will listen cent percent--even our own disciples . . . ” To at least some degree, some of them will have to repeat at least some elements of the past. In other words, despite our attempts to counsel, a significant number of the juniors will feel compelled to do things “all their way” and get burned. The senior leaders won’t be able to completely eradicate that syndrome, but at least they can conscientiously work to minimize it--without dampening the youthful enthusiasm that is so important for powering the future.

For two days straight, I accompanied Giriraja Swami on his almost daily ritual of walks on the beach. As the tide of the Pacific Ocean moved in, he chanted and I did my pranayama breathing: out with the Los Angeles smog, in with the fresh sea breezes--just as the doctor in Puri, India, had instructed me. Right before my departure, arrived HH Indradyumna Swami, “the hardest working man in Krishna-festival business.” Flying directly from Eastern Europe, he sought a much-deserved rest at Giriraja Swami’s abode. I was unashamedly envious--he had scheduled thirty precious days of recuperation there.

For an hour we talked the “sannyasa talk.” An esteemed Godsister, Urmila Mataji, traveling to an airport in Italy with HH Bhakti Tirtha and me, quipped that as soon as householder devotees meet, they talk about their children, and whenever sannyasis meet, their first topic is traveling. So yes, Indradyumna Swami and I talked about traveling--in relation to preaching and health. We both noted that as the years go by, the body takes longer to recover from intercontinental jaunts.

Regretfully I had to tear myself away--I was supposed to give class the next morning in Los Angeles. But before I could get out the door, Indradyumna Maharaja embarrassed me, pointing out I had not written for my website since September of last year--eight months ago. “Your fans, like me, are wondering what’s going on.” Red-faced that Godbrothers were bothering to read what I wrote, I promised I would get back into it.

The final day of my visits to Los Angeles is always the most intense. I gave Bhagavatam class again on Thursday morn, chanted, danced, breakfasted with the senior leaders, and conversed privately with some of them about pressing ISKCON or BBT matters. Throughout that day were more discussions with devotees--last-minute personal meetings always seem to manifest out of nowhere, the closer is departure time. Friday, at 5 am, I left for the airport.

I had sought a midday flight, so I could finish my rounds before traveling. Remember, I do publicly instruct that devotees should mold their life around attentive chanting--shouldn’t I walk my talk? But this day was the first of a big holiday weekend in the USA; therefore I had no choice in flights. Even at 5 am, travelers crammed the airport. In a quiet corner before boarding the flight, though physically exhausted, I managed to chant a few rounds. Five hours later I would disembark, into a packed schedule of university speaking engagements--my first visit to Canada in fifteen years.

(to be continued)

Exiled to Blissful Siberia

Sat, 19 Aug 2006 21:18:22 -0600

After four medical appointments in seven days, I felt as ready as I would ever be. International austerity beckoned: time to depart my base in New Zealand for devotional service overseas. July 22 I flew to Melbourne, Australia. Due to the superlative efforts of Nityananda Priya and his crew, I had agreed to visit Melbourne again, twice in the same month, for another weekend retreat, designed especially for Indian university students and young professionals. Held at New Nandagram, a small ISKCON farm outside of the city, the first retreat hosted eighty newcomers, and the second one gathered sixty budding practitioners. Bhakti philosophy is not the only item on the retreat menu. We focus upon “the dilemma of the hybrid”: the young, bright overseas Indian, with a foot in both traditional India and untamed Australia. We explore the social and psychological tensions rampant in such a dual world.

I had planned for five straight days of service to the Melbourne devotees, who are so wisely led by the empowered team of Aniruddha Prabhu and his wife Acintya Rupa Mataji. But a special management meeting in Sydney interrupted the calm and recuperative pace I sought to maintain. On July 25 I had to fly to Sydney and back, the same day. Then the next day, near midnight, the intercontinental penances began: a nine-hour night flight to Bangkok, a three-hour gap to chant my rounds, followed by another nine hours in the air to Moscow. In the morning, I gave a class at the Moscow brahmachari heaven, and after the relishing the association of the forty fortunate saffron souls, I left for St. Petersburg, my main place of seva in Russia.

The revival in St. Petersburg—formerly ISKCON’s biggest yatra in Europe—is still underway. After major setbacks in 1998, slowly the giant is awakening. Such is life in the material world, even for a spiritual movement. Krishna Himself explains that even His own message becomes lost, due to the corrosive influence of time in the world of maya; therefore he has to periodically speak the Gita again, to revive the correct understanding. The important point is that He always does act, to resuscitate the bhakti movement. Deterioration is never left to run its own course in the material world.

Five days in Russia’s cultural and intellectual capital and then my schedule exiled me to Siberia.

This itinerary would entail a 1.5 hour flight to Moscow, where because Russian airlines don’t transfer luggage or passengers yet, I would have to claim my bags and check-in with it again, even though the connecting flight was the same airline. As expected, the scarce seats in the terminal were all occupied, so I propped myself against a wall and chanted Hare Krishna, before check-in was finally announced for my 3.5 hour flight to Omsk, on the western edge of Siberia.

Arriving in Omsk the same Thursday was the Russian-born sannyasi HH Bhakti-vijnana Maharaja. Together we conducted a weekend festival culminating in an initiation ceremony. On Monday we went our separate ways: he, westward, for his headquarters at the brahmachari heaven in Moscow, and I, eastward, deeper into Siberia.

My flight to Irkutsk, the main city of East Siberia was a typical Russian killer. Let me share the ordeal with you, to arouse your sympathy. After a spiritually enlivening but physically exhausting weekend festival, my “workday” ended at 11pm Sunday night. I managed a few hours of sleep, before rising at 2am to catch a 4:20am plane. Because it’s coming from a far-off city, I know the plane is probably late. But, you see, that foreknowledge makes little difference in Russia, because there you have to report at the airport on-time anyway—there’s no phone number to call to inquire in advance if a flight is delayed.

Five hours later, the torturous flight, late as expected, deposited me in the midst of that gigantic tract of land world-famous for exile and isolation. Few of you would understand the vastness of Russia, and fewer still, the size of Siberia.

The entire nation of Russia comprises 11 time zones. The largest country in the world, Russia spans two continents, Europe and Asia. Twice the area of the United States or China, Russia occupies an area of 17,075,200 sq km (6,592,800 sq mi). That’s more than one-ninth of the world’s total land area.

I tell you this not only so you can appreciate the grueling long-distance traveling Russia requires, but also so you can ponder the colossal management challenges that Russia thrusts upon ISKCON leaders. How can the GBCs there coordinate the far-flung temples of such a universe? How will the Russian temple presidents and regional leaders ever unite into one national council? As the current chairman of the GBCs there, I can’t escape these pressing concerns.

From the Arctic down to Turkey and the Muslim nations bordering Iran and Afghanisthan, Russia measures, north to south, more than 4,000 km (2,400 mi). East to west the nation spans almost 10,000 km (6,200 mi)--almost half the circumference of the earth.

Within that seemingly endless expanse is Siberia, a region 488,500 sq km (188,610 sq mi). That means just Siberia alone is bigger than the world’s second largest nation, Canada.

In mundane history, throughout the 20th Century, Siberia was notorious as the involuntary destination for political dissidents, “enemies of the state.” During the 1930s and 1940s, the Soviet regime dispatched millions of men and women to forced labor camps and prisons in Siberia. Poor working conditions and the region’s extreme climate finished off many. Though the massive numbers sent to these camps declined after Stalin’s death, the practice of forcibly exiling political foes to Siberia continued until the collapse of the communist system, less than twenty years ago.

In spiritual history, however, Siberia now shines, as a powerful sun in Lord Caitanya’s sky. Other than the mighty acaryas in our Gaudiya Vaishnava line, how many sadhus in India could have ever foreseen that in such a remote, isolated, and harsh environ of the world, approximately 2,500 devotees would thrive?

Mahaprabhu boldly declared, prthivite ache yata nagaradi grama, sarvatra pracara haibe mora nama: “In every town and city of the world, My name and mission will spread.” But Siberia? The region famous for year-round frozen tundra, forced-labour camps, and horrid environmental destruction?

Truthfully, for a devotee of Krishna, to be sent to Siberia is now a bhakti benediction. Consequently, there I was, seeking the service of the Siberian devotees and the association of my brother swamis, at the now annual East Siberia Festival of the Holy Name. At a basic and rustic rented site outside the city of Irkutsk, seven hundred devotees, from the east sub-region of Siberia had gathered for five days. HH Prabhavisnu Swami and HH Bhakti Caitanya Swami and I sought to both inspire them and become inspired by them.

And there my health returned full force. To counteract the car accident of April, when I was in Puri, India, in late June, I took therapeutic lessons in self-healing from a reknowned doctor. He has me doing basic pranayama and other exercise every morning. At the East Siberia festival, I surprised myself, leading 1.5- and 2-hour kirtans, singing and dancing nonstop.

Get it while you can! Use the temporary health of this temporary body to chant and dance in ecstasy. In this way, you attain the supreme eternal, even while within this temporary world.

"‘Simply by chanting the holy name of Krsna one can obtain freedom from material existence. Indeed, simply by chanting the Hare Krsna mantra one will be able to see the lotus feet of the Lord." (Cc. Adi 7.73)

Mission Possible: Up the Carts to the Lotus Feet

Sat, 19 Aug 2006 17:59:13 -0600

Like a commando team, our group of devotees, in the predawn darkness, drove off in a van for a special, sacred mission. Our secret target: the lotus feet of Sri Jagannatha, Sri Baladeva, and Sri Subhadra. It’s the Day After—the wee hours of the morning following Rathayatra. The carts and the Deities are now parked outside the Gundica Temple. Later this day the Deities will come down and enter their temporary home at Gundica.

We’ve been tipped off that the senior pandas (caste-brahmana priests), recuperating from the Rath parade, will rise late this morning. Little do they know that while the casteism cats are away, Prabhupada’s mice will play.

Ridiculous it is that foreign devotees are barred entry into the Jagannatha Temple. Is Jagannatha Lord of the universe or Lord of whomever the security guards think resembles a Hindu—whatever that is? Millions of Indian tourists and pilgrims funnel through the gate—no guard will ever know if they are cow-killers, dog-eaters, atheists, or murderers. Simply the people have to “look Indian.”

Most male visitors to the temple do not wear traditional devotional attire. Clad in Western-style shirts and slacks, with cigarettes in the back pocket, they move freely within the temple. Foreigners, whether devotees or not, are completely banned. But even if an Indian devotee enters, if he happens to be dressed neatly in dhoti and kurta and wearing neckbeads, japa bag, and fresh tilak, the guards will threatingly challenge: “ISKCON?”

The distorted folk notion is that Jagannatha is for Hindu-born worshippers, and that therefore even Indian members of ISKCON should be shunned, because they’ve helped disseminate throughout India and the world the illusion that Jagannatha is Lord of all, and anyone has the right to see Him.

Although the time is 4am, already 100 Indian pilgrims surround each cart, seeking a close-up experience. One hundred is better than the hundreds of thousands we knew would amass later. Our small party includes HH Radhanatha Swami, HH Sacinandana Swami, HH Chandramauli Swami, the twin Mayapura pujaris, Jananivasa Prabhu and Pankajangrahi Prabhu. From below we watch a few foreign ISKCON devotees, along with the Indian pilgrims, climb the carts. Their white bodies gleaming in the moonlight amidst the swarm of brown and black, if they managed to successfully clamber all the way up onto the main platform, they immediately ran into their next obstacle: the security guards and the pandas. By flashing 1000-rupee bills and thrusting them into the eager hands, the foreign ISKCON devotees suddenly morphed into official Hindus.

Like many temples in Orissa, the Jagannatha Mandira is under government management. That means all salaries for the temple servitors are controlled. Jagannatha’s priests are said to earn officially no more than 100 rupees per month—the equivalent of about $2 USD. Government regulations forbid the priests to hold another job—if they try they can be fired on the spot. Now, at the break of day, while the stodgy senior pandas sleep, the more liberal juniors rake it in—1000 rupees per white head, and step right up for your darshan. Nevertheless, these enterprising younger pandas didn’t allow the foreign devotees to intimately approach the Deity.

Our party had an inside connection: a young panda who appreciated Srila Prabhupada’s bringing Lord Jagannatha and Rathayatra all over the world. Dividing us into two groups, he first escorted Radhanatha Swami, Chandramauli Swami, and me to the back of Jagannatha’s cart. How, just three months after a debilitating car accident, I managed to climb up the world’s largest Rath carts is still a mystery to me. Determined like an Olympic gymnast pursuing a gold medal, I stretched my legs from one beam of wood high up to the next, and then with my arms hoisted myself up, level after level. Finally, we all attained the main platform of Jagannath’s cart. Led by our panda agent, we squirmed our way through the crowd of Indian pilgims desperate to see Lord Jagannatha. “ISKCON?” a security guard challenged. Not answering, we pressed forward to the front of the cart, to the Deity’s throne.

Now we were directly in front of Lord Jagannatha, less than an arm’s length before us. I focused upon the Caitanya-caritamrita’s description of Lord Caitanya’s seeing Lord Jagannatha. God Himself, as His own devotee, teaches us the supreme method for taking darshan of the Lord.

“Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu was very thirsty to see the Lord, and His eyes became like two bumblebees drinking the honey from the lotuslike eyes of Lord Jagannatha, who is Krsna Himself.

“The eyes of Lord Jagannatha conquered the beauty of blossoming lotus flowers, and His neck was as lustrous as a mirror made of sapphires.

“The chin of the Lord, tinged with buff color, conquered the beauty of the bandhuli flower. This increased the beauty of His mild smiling, which was like lustrous waves of nectar.

“The luster of His beautiful face increased at every moment, and the eyes of hundreds and thousands of devotees drank its honey like bumblebees.

“As their eyes began to drink the nectarean honey of His lotus face, their thirst increased. Thus their eyes did not leave Him.” (Madhya 12.211 to 215)

Ignoring the priests outstretched hands for money, I lowered my body, lunged forward, and pressed my head directly at Lord Jagannatha’s lotus feet. With all the sincerity I could muster in my tiny heart, I begged Him: “Please help me to please Srila Prabhupada.”

His Divine Grace so eloquently explains my modus operandi in a Seventh-Canto purport:

“This human form of body is a most valuable boat, and the spiritual master is the captain, guru-karnadharam, to guide the boat in plying across the ocean of nescience. The instruction of Krsna is a favorable breeze. One must use all these facilities to cross over the ocean of nescience. Since the spiritual master is the captain, one must serve the spiritual master very sincerely so that by his mercy one will be able to get the mercy of the Supreme Lord.

“ . . . The spiritual master is certainly very merciful to his disciples, and consequently by satisfying him a devotee gets strength from the Supreme Personality of Godhead. Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu therefore says, guru-krsna-prasade paya bhakti-lata-bija: [Cc. Madhya 19.151] one must first please the spiritual master, and then one automatically pleases Krsna and gets the strength with which to cross the ocean of nescience. If one seriously desires to return home, back to Godhead, one must therefore become strong enough by pleasing the spiritual master, for thus one gets the weapon with which to conquer the enemy, and one also gets the grace of Krsna. Simply getting the weapon of jnana is insufficient. One must sharpen the weapon by serving the spiritual master and adhering to his instructions. Then the candidate will get the mercy of the Supreme Personality of Godhead.” (SB 7.15.45)

At the carts of Sri Baladeva and Sri Subhadra, we three swamis, led by our panda insider, repeated the transcendental gymnastic process up to the main platform. Thrusting my head down at the lotus feet of Sri Subhadra, I gently prayed for access to the Lord’s internal potency. On the last cart, submitting my lowly head at the lotus feet of Sri Baladeva, I cried out in desperation, “Please give me spiritual strength--on my own I’m so weak and feeble!”

Again let us hear Srila Prabhupada explain, in the same purport, why I made this prayer:

“Significant in this verse are the words jnanasim acyuta-balah. Jnanasim, the sword of knowledge, is given by Krsna, and when one serves the guru and Krsna in order to hold the sword of Krsna's instructions, Balarama gives one strength. Balarama is Nityananda. Vrajendra-nandana yei, saci-suta haila sei, balarama ha-ila nitai. This bala--Balarama--comes with Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu, and both of Them are so merciful that in this age of Kali one may very easily take shelter of Their lotus feet. They come especially to deliver the fallen souls of this age. Papi tapi yata chila, hari-name uddharila. Their weapon is sankirtana, hari-nama. Thus one should accept the sword of knowledge from Krsna and be strong with the mercy of Balarama. We are therefore worshiping Krsna-Balarama in Vrndavana. In the Mundaka Upanisad (3.2.4) it is said:

nayam atma bala-hinena labhyo

na ca pramadat tapaso vapy alingat

etair upayair yatate yas tu vidvams

tasyaisa atma visate brahma-dhama

“One cannot attain the goal of life without the mercy of Balarama. Sri Narottama dasa Thakura therefore says, nitaiyera karuna habe, vraje radha-krsna pabe: when one receives the mercy of Balarama, Nityananda, one can attain the lotus feet of Radha and Krsna very easily.

se sambandha nahi yara, brtha janma gela tara,

vidya-kule hi karibe tara

“If one has no connection with Nitai, Balarama, then even though one is a very learned scholar or jnani or has taken birth in a very respectable family, these assets will not help him. We must therefore conquer the enemies of Krsna consciousness with the strength received from Balarama.” (SB 7.15.46)

An afterthought: Nothing is lacking in the Jagannatha Deites installed at our ISKCON temples. There, anyone of any body-type can have darshan of the Supreme Personality of Godhead without security guards chasing you out because “you don’t look ‘Hindu’.” During Prabhupada’s ISKCON years with us, although he inaugurated Rathayatras all over the world, he refused to enter the Jaganatha Temple in Puri, because his foreign disciples were not allowed to have darshan. Why then did my Godbrothers and I apparently endeavor so mightily to see Sri Jagannatha in Puri?

Please understand that our real reason for visiting Puri was not to craftily circumvent the pandas’ foolish caste restrictions but to lead an ISKCON pilgrimage to all the holy spots associated with gaura-lila and to witness the original Rathayatra. Coincidentally, though, on the Day After, a special chance to intimately approach Lord Jagannatha had arisen—a window of opportunity, on the only day of the year when Sri Jagannatha is publicly accessible outside. So then why not take advantage--why not go for it? As Prabhupada once explained, devotees are the greatest opportunists. We happened to be in the right place at the right time, so we took advantage. Spiritual adventure, for pleasing Krishna’s senses, is also a part of the bhakti experience.

What You Mean to Me

Sat, 19 Aug 2006 17:56:37 -0600

Sitting at the place where Srila Haridas Thakura chanted 300,000 holy names of the Lord daily, I was determined to take my chanting to a deeper level. The potency of this most holy tirtha is so thick, you could suck it through a straw. Nothing else to do here except try to chant attentively. For me that is paradise.

My first visit to Jagannath Puri in thirty years, this pilgrimage was about insuring my responsibilities to ISKCON, as a leader, and to my disciples and other dependants, as their guide. Bhakti-yoga means practice what you preach. Setting the path, the method, Lord Caitanya said, “I shall accept the role of a devotee, and I shall teach devotional service by practicing it Myself.” (Cc Adi 3.20)

If I’m exhorting others to hear the holy name, I have to demonstrate that I, myself, am constantly seeking to intensify my japa absorption. Devotees rightfully expect their spiritual leaders to generate a spiritual taste, for the benefit of all.

At Srila Haridas Thakura’s residence, known as Siddha Bakul, lived also Santana Goswami, when he visited Puri. And here Rupa Goswami recited his stunningly elegant verses for the pleasure of Lord Caitanya and His devotees. Just one of those gems:

"I do not know how much nectar the two syllables ‘Krs-na' have produced. When the holy name of Krsna is chanted, it appears to dance within the mouth. We then desire many, many mouths. When that name enters the holes of the ears, we desire many millions of ears. And when the holy name dances in the courtyard of the heart, it conquers the activities of the mind, and therefore all the senses become inert." (Cc. Antya 1.99)

Every day Mahaprabhu would visit Siddha Bakul, to enliven His intimate devotees there and to bring Haridas Thakura prasada from the Jagannatha temple. Reading the descriptions in Caitanya-caritamrita of such personal interactions between the Lord and His associates, we plunge into a bottomless ocean of nectar. I’ve often said that a devotee can develop all good devotional qualities just by studying the patterns of Vaishnava interactions in Caitanya-caritamrita.

Chanting with me at Siddha Bakul is my Godbrother HH Radhanatha Swami. His disciples, gathered there from Mumbai and throughout the world, observe his concentration and try to follow accordingly. Also coming to Puri for ISKCON’s presence at the mother of all Rathayatra festivals are my Godbrothers Their Holinesses Indradyumna Swami, Sacinandana Swami, Candramauli Swami, and Bhakti Caru Swami. The twin-brother veteran pujaris of Mayapur, Jananivasa Prabhu and Pankajangrahi Prabhu have also come. Can you imagine you and your twin doing the same devotional service, at the same place, for now more than thirty years?

In presenting this list of illustrious souls, allow me to express my heart’s desire. You see, I solemnly feel that to Srila Prabhupada’s ISKCON and to my disciples, I owe the right of their having a leader who constantly seeks the association of his fellows. Over the decades, ISKCON, as a spiritual organization, has grown from infancy to teenage years to adult life. Many lessons have accumulated, which only a fool would ignore. In the past, some places have seen the rise of talented and apparently powerful leaders, who isolated themselves and became their own world. Simply surrounding themselves with young devotees, they never opened themselves up to peer review and senior inspiration. Gradually their island-consciousness transformed into material consciousness and offenses. Then down the drain they went. In spite of a few mighty years of achievement, they became skeletons in the ISKCON closet.

Therefore, please understand that besides my visiting younger devotees around the world, to care for them, a main reason for my traveling is to associate with my Godbrothers—together we inspire one another to greater heights in Prabhupada’s service. I strongly believe that I owe my disciples and all of ISKCON an example of relishing sanga. In that way younger devotees can see how a leader should behave, because soon some of them will be ISKCON’s future guides.

A purport of Nectar of Instruction (4) tells us: “In Bhagavad-gita(2.62) it is stated, sangat sanjayate kaman: one's desires and ambitions develop according to the company one keeps.” Because you mean so much to me, I must constantly seek to give you the best: a leader who swims and dives in the ocean of association with his fellows. Yes, the disciple’s duty and joy is to praise his or her spiritual master and render service. But your love, in turn, places a weighty responsibility upon me—to keep my bhakti tools sharp through ongoing sadhu-sanga, the camaraderie of Srila Prabhupada’s saints.

June/July and Jagannath

Sat, 19 Aug 2006 17:55:18 -0600

Propelled violently, the delicate form of HH Bhakti Charu Swami managed to keep its feet. Behind him glared the Orissan policeman who had so savagely hurled him away from the Rathayatra carts. A few minutes earlier, that same human bulldozer had punched HH Indradyumna Swami in the nose, knocking off his glasses. No need for further demoniac endeavours—this security man had certainly guaranteed himself an easy journey to the hellish planets.

Materially we’re in Puri, a small city of 125,000, near Bhubaneshwar, the capital of Orissa, on the central east coast of India. Spiritually, however, we’re in Sri Purushottama-kshetra, also known as Niladri or Nilacala—the famous home of Lord Jagannatha and His mandira. It’s Rathayatra day. Our small party had special passes allowing our presence in the special cordoned area where the Rath carts waited for the Deities to arrive from the Jagannath Temple nearby.

Their Holinesses Radhanatha Swami, Indradyumna Swami, Sacinandana Swami, Bhakti Charu Swami, as well as Pankajangahi Prabhu, Jananivas Prabhu, and I were eager for a close-up. When Sri Jagannath, Sri Baladeva, and Srimati Subhadra would emerge and mount their chariots, we wanted to be right at their lotus feet. But, as thousands of people watched from the rooftops and streets, the Orissan police were determined to deny us this spiritual delight. We could withstand broiling in the 38-degree tropical sun, but the police’s verbal and physical assaults drove us away. We finally retreated to seats in buildings overlooking the carts.

“Foreigners and Indians aligned with them still aren’t appreciated in Puri by the powers-that-be,” my young assistant Krishnagraja das, a Mayapur gurukula graduate, explained to me. He reasoned that the antipathy stemmed back to the British colonizers’ looting the Jagannath temple of the Deities’ jewels and dispatching the booty to London.

True, a few hundred years ago, British propaganda had wickedly smeared the Jagannath Temple and its worshipable Lord. Attacking Sri Jagannath as "a frightful visage painted black, with a distended mouth of bloody horror," the British Crown distributed their bigotry in publications throughout the world. You can just imagine how Rathayatra sent them even more into a tizzy. Shocked by the annual grand procession of “the horrible, bloodthirsty idol,” the British, from the sacred name Jagannath, then coined the term "juggernaut." Now a normal word in the English language, the Random House Unabridged Dictionary reveals the deep misunderstanding and prejudice sustained from India’s colonial past into the 21st century.

Juggernaut:

1. any large, overpowering, destructive force or object, as war, a giant battleship, or a powerful football team.

2. anything requiring blind devotion or cruel sacrifice.

3. Also called Jagannath. an idol of Krishna, at Puri in Orissa, India, annually drawn on an enormous cart under whose wheels devotees are said to have thrown themselves to be crushed.

Don’t, however, blame all the ignorance and malpractice on the British. Who now controls many of India’s most venerable and majestic temples? The Indian government. Millions of pious pilgrims still flock to the oldest and largest temples, depositing en total huge sums of money for the worship of the Deity. The state governments then misspend the Deity’s divine funds as they like, for mundane projects and political pockets.

Safe from the Orissan police surrounding the carts, Bhakti Charu Swami and I watched the transcendental pageantry of Rathayatra from a roof directly overlooking Sri Baladeva’s cart. We humbly gazed to our heart’s content as the pandas (caste brahmins who serve the Deities) bore Sri Baladeva, then Srimati Subhadra, and finally Sri Jagannath from the temple to their thrones on their chariots. We saw the King of Orissa enact the ritual of sweeping the floor of the carts, and we also watched the elderly acarya, the sannyasi head, of the local Shankaracarya lineage, surrounded by an official police honour guard, board each cart to perform ceremonies to the Deities.

Yes, the irony has to be tolerated. The modern followers of Lord Caitanya, the greatest devotee of Lord Jagannath, are denied close access to the Deities. HH Indradyuma Swami, who has enacted ecstatic Rathayatras in many cities of the world, is punched in the face, trying to see Sri Jagannathadeva. Meanwhile a staunch lifelong Mayavadi impersonalist is given carte blanche—the royal carpet straight up the carts to the Deities’ thrones.

Lord Caitanya has declared that because the Mayavadi impersonalists misrepresent Vedic knowledge, they are the greatest offenders to the Supreme Lord. Quoting the Gita (16.9), Srila Prabhupada points out to us: “Life in demoniac species awaits the Mayavadi philosophers after death because they are envious of Krishna.” (Cc. Adi 7.130)

We want to subordinate ourselves to the Lord; the Mayavadi leader, however, actually thinks he is Sri Jagannath! His concocted notion is that by his worshipping the Lord, he worships himself, because all is one, and any apparent individuality—whether of the Lord or us—is maya, an illusion to be overcome by austere spiritual practices and Vedantic study. Beaming with imaginary self-satisfaction that by his seeing the Deity, he has just seen himself, the elderly swami, amidst his reverent police escort, finally leaves the scene. Then amidst roars from hundreds of thousands of onlookers, finally, one after the other, the chariots of Sri Jagannath, Sri Baladeva, and Srimati Subhadra begin to roll.

Flashback and Saving My Own Neck

Mon, 12 Jun 2006 03:30:58 -0600

The young man with melancholy eyes listened curiously as I explained the Krishna conscious lifestyle. “A swami, a monk, eh?” he pondered aloud. Then a grizzled, worn-out hippy in his forties shrieked derisively: “Man, that’s bogus spirituality! Any true guru knows that the more sex you have, the more you’re liberated!” Infected, the younger man, no longer reflective, erupted with the fervor of an evangelist at the peak of his sermon. Eyes ablaze, he proclaimed, “I’ve had true ecstasy through sensuality!” Groaning, I sank into my chair.

That was Christmas, 1993, in Coromandel, New Zealand. Candrashekar Swami and I had sought to get out of the city for the some hearing and chanting about Krishna. Stopping for a few days at an economical retreat centre in a natural, mountain setting, we naturally conversed with whomever else was staying there. One morning, a young girl almost bumped into me at a doorway. Mouth and eyes wide open, she finally exclaimed a simple but momentous “Oh!” Later I found out she had immediately run to her boyfriend, alerting him: “I just met the most extraordinary person!” That same day the boyfriend, with the sad eyes, chatted with me at an outdoor table. Unfortunately the burnt-out remnant from hippy days was also there, counteracting my preaching by inviting the melancholy chap to his commune in Australia.

A few months later the boyfriend, his girl, and their two-year-old baby sought me out in Auckland at the Loft, the first of its type of preaching centre. Though the building’s exterior had no traditional Hare Krishna markings, somehow the girl, right before she entered within, had a funny feeling. “Oh no!” she told her boyfriend. “I think it’s a Hare Krishna place . . . Let’s get out of here--fast!” Still they managed to walk through the door. They had come to ask me, “the wise holy man,” whether they should indeed journey to Australia to stay at the frazzled hippy’s zoo. Throughout our discussion, their baby screamed her head off—a nonstop daily event, the parents told me. Suddenly I did something totally uncharacteristic. Amazing myself, I picked up the child, held her, and asked her to stop crying. Immediately the child became peaceful. Her parents stared in disbelief--shocked by the immediate calm.

Whenever the trio would visit our preaching centre, the same ritual would repeat itself: screaming child turns placid when consoled by the swami. Gradually each of the parents began to reveal their mind. “John and I have been together since I was fifteen,” the twenty-year-old girlfriend, Amee, told me. ‘We’re good friends, but now I want to do something different, on my own. I want to go clubbing!” Patiently I explained that they had a child and a responsibility to her, and that they should try to revive their relationship on the spiritual platform, through bhakti-yoga. The boyfriend, twenty-eight, confessed he didn’t have a clue what to do with himself, his girlfriend, or their child. The baby was conceived while they were roaming India. Observing the innocent-looking babies in the villages there, the girlfriend, then nineteen, decided, on the spot, to have her own cute package. “We have no idea of the purpose in life,” the boyfriend explained to me, “but we concluded that the child we’d conceive would show us the way . . .”

The young family of three soon became regular guests at the Loft. They couldn’t get the taste of prasada out of their mind. During one visit, the girl announced that she was pregnant again. ‘Well, I guess that takes care of your future,” I told her. “You guys definitely are obligated to stay together.” Hare Krishna association and spiritual food is powerful, but Kali-yuga doesn’t release its inmates so easily. One night our dynamic duo decided to give the disco clubs one more try—though by that time Amee was five months pregnant. "How boring!” they reported the next day. “All the time there, we kept thinking we’d be happier at the Hare Krishna place.” John, deciding his life was going nowhere fast, asked to live for a few weeks with “the monks.” He wanted to find his true calling and purpose. His girlfriend, however, wasn’t sure what she wanted. But anyway she gave him her blessing, “to do his thing, whatever it is.” With independent iron-resolve she bade him off, saying, “If you want to be a monk, go right ahead. I’ve got my own life to live.” Never one to take no for an answer, I decided to visit the girl.

Fulfilling an ambition, she had moved to Waiheke Island, a forty-minute ferry trip off the coast. Several devotees accompanied me to her scenic beachfront hideaway. During the overnight visit, Amee, in true Kiwi-female style, though seven months pregnant, kept her chin up--and her guard up too. For our departure the next evening, she agreed to accompany us as far as the ferry. On the wharf we bade farewell. Suddenly Amee threw away her defenses and broke down in tears: “I’m the one who was first interested in Krishna consciousness—not John. Why does HE get all the attention!” Sensing a rare, glorious break in the dense fog of Kali, I immediately instructed her to start chanting seriously the mahamantra and we would give her all assistance. Soon both John and Amee began practicing full Krishna consciousness together. The expected second child, however, was becoming a problem—he was three weeks overdue. Anxious, Amee consulted a natural therapist, who instructed her to meditate deeply on the child in the womb and ask what he needed to come out. Doing so, Amee said she clearly heard the child communicate: “If you promise to help me be Krishna conscious, I’ll come out of your womb.” Amee said she readily agreed, and a few days later out he came. His name: Sukadeva.

As for the baby girl, Sian (pronounced shawn), then almost three years old, one day, without any prompting, she announced to her startled parents: “My name is not Sian; my name is Varshan!” Upon the whole family’s becoming firmly established in Krishna consciousness, in 1995, I duly made a normal request. “John and Amee, you have been living together since Amee was sixteen. If you’re serious about spiritual life, you should get legally married. In Krishna consciousness, we follow proper behavioral guidelines.” They both accepted, and Amee informed her parents of their decision. Respectable middle-class people, both school teachers and property investors, her parents heard out the proposal. “Are you really sure?” the mother grilled Amee. “Don’t feel you have to rush into anything. Are you really sure he’s the one for you?” Amee, now with budding spiritual intelligence, was momentarily surprised by her mother’s concerns. She reminded her, “Mum, isn’t it a bit late for such hesitation? After all, you know we’ve been living together, even at your house, for seven years, since I was sixteen, and now we have two kids . . . “

Truly “living happily ever after” (visate tad anantara), the couple have been happily married and serving in Prabhupada’s ISKCON. The man, now 41, is Jhulan-yatra das; the lady, now 33, is Rasayatra dasi.

They are my rejuvenation team, as I seek to recover from my serious whiplash injury of April, 2006. Renting a house in Cairns, on the tropical northeast coast of Australia, they’ve begged me to rest for a while, and I have admitted that would be best. Though no external wounds are visible, nevertheless a neck injury is very serious. Any expert hangman will tell you that his rope actually doesn’t kill the prisoner by strangulation. A properly tied noose abruptly snaps the neck so that instantly all blood connection from the spinal column to the brain is cut off. Strangulation is an aftereffect. Please know that for twelve days, I am resting, reading, and chanting. Because of two-month’s worth of pre-booked flights, previously I could not take such a break, right after my accident. But now, the first real chance I’ve had, I am doing the necessary, and my condition has markedly improved.

Yes, for Krishna’s service, I’m “saving my own neck.”

London: Maximum Intensity and Sri Narahari

Mon, 05 Jun 2006 03:52:33 -0600

The Soho temple in central London roared in the heat of its annual Narasimhadeva book marathon. Flying in from Moscow, I immediately plunged into Lord Caitanya’s ocean of ecstasy and sacrifice. The Sunday feast programme was jammed, and so were the morning and evening classes and kirtans. What a location, what an urban-outreach delight! Almost right outside the door pass millions of tourists and Britons daily. The nearby theater district beckons with premier plays. But what mundane drama can compare to Lord Narasimha’s pastime: the ultimate horror movie.

The Supreme Lord as half-man, half-lion incarnation bewilders nondevotees and puzzles even devotees lacking sufficient knowledge and experience. Such strength He has, such ferocity—indeed such terror! Meditating on his picture, we see the garland of intestines, the drops of blood on His mane. The mightiest demon, Hiranyakasipu, sprawled across the Lord’s lap, is now lifeless. His abdomen ripped apart, you could certainly say he’s been gutted. What a fright! Fear, like all emotions, does play a role in bhakti-yoga. Let’s hear Prahlada Maharaja instruct us in the perfect way to panic:

“My Lord, who are never conquered by anyone, I am certainly not afraid of Your ferocious mouth and tongue, Your eyes bright like the sun or Your frowning eyebrows. I do not fear Your sharp, pinching teeth, Your garland of intestines, Your mane soaked with blood, or Your high, wedgelike ears. Nor do I fear Your tumultuous roaring, which makes elephants flee to distant places, or Your nails, which are meant to kill Your enemies.” (SB 7.9.15)

What then to fear—if not the supreme shock of Lord Narahari’s sudden, apparently bloodthirsty appearance? Prahlad Maharaja teaches us that the truly intelligent person shudders at the thought of closely associating with materialists. Their illicit desires to control and enjoy material nature contaminate the consciousness of a soul seeking the solace of Krishna’s devotional service—the spiritual world. By dreading nondevotional influence upon our life, we positively use the fear emotion in Krishna consciousness, as Prahlada further explains:

“O most powerful, insurmountable Lord, who are kind to the fallen souls, I have been put into the association of demons as a result of my activities, and therefore I am very much afraid of my condition of life within this material world. When will that moment come when You will call me to the shelter of Your lotus feet, which are the ultimate goal for liberation from conditional life?” (SB 7.9.16)

The Supreme Lord Narasimhadeva is truly a paradox. Although terrifying to the nondevotees, He is the essence of kindness to His dear devotee Prahlada. Although only a small boy, Prahlada knows that the Lord has appeared preeminently because of affection. The Lord’s terminating the greatest terrorist of the universe, Hiranyakasipu, was secondary—subordinate to love for His devotee.

“When Lord Narasimhadeva saw the small boy Prahlada Maharaja prostrated at the soles of His lotus feet, He became most ecstatic in affection toward His devotee. Raising Prahlada, the Lord placed His lotus hand upon the boy's head because His hand is always ready to create fearlessness in all of His devotees.” (SB 7.9.5)

Concluding my stay in London, I prepared to depart for Los Angeles, a twelve-hour flight away. My domicile had been the transcendental “Patel hotel” in South London. Often, when visiting London, I stay with this family of wonderful Vaishnavas. They love to open up their home to wandering preachers and to lavish them with hospitality—especially topmost prasada. Vikash and his wife Shital--known to all devotees in Melbourne, Australia from their stay there--are the chief caretakers, even though they both work fulltime jobs. Vikash’s brother Nishil had just finished med school and begun his hospital career. Little did I know that he would be the first person ever, in my almost thirty years of international traveling, to alter my travel plans . . . .

Rising early the morning of May 2, I was ready for the austerity of the intercontinental flight. I did notice my head felt like a stone boulder, and my feet like I was walking on balloons. Vikash immediately alerted his younger brother, who respectfully yet sternly entered the scene. Meanwhile I kept chanting my mantra: “It’s okay, I feel good . . . I feel good . . . I feel good, and I’m ready to fly away.” Nishil, wielding an electronic blood–pressure measuring device, made his test. Raising his eyebrows high, he announced the results: “Way over the top—you can’t go anywhere today!” “Oh come on, it’s not that bad,” I countered. “I think while sleeping last night I twisted my neck--hence no proper circulation to the head.” Coolly and clinically surveying me, Doctor Nishil seemed unimpressed by my own diagnosis. “We’ll see what a cardiologist I know says—I’ll call him at 7am. I still don’t think you’re fit to get on the plane, but we’ll see what happens in the next two hours.”

Astonished, I told him no one has ever impeded my departure, in almost three decades. Moreover, I had an annual national meeting to attend in New Zealand—I had to be on my way. While waiting for the cardiologist to awaken, I somehow manipulated my neck muscles by nodding my head from side to side in the classic Indian gesture of mild assent. Immediately the blockage cleared, my heavy head lightened, and as I reclined on the bed while chanting, Nishil measured my blood pressure several times and noted its gradual descent from the alarming peak.

Just then the cardiologist telephoned and gave his verdict: no flying today—it could be dangerous. If all is well, tomorrow is alright, he declared. Prevailed upon by medical authorities from both the devotional and nondevotional side, I resigned myself to my fate. While reading and chanting that day and taking things slow, I realized it was the first day in three weeks, through four countries, that I had no preaching programmes, no medical appointments, and no devotee counseling sessions. Sometimes you have to rest for Krishna. This body is His, not mine.

Twenty-four hours later, rested, though with flickering bodily balance, I managed to wobble my way through the huge maze of London Heathrow airport to board the long flight to Los Angeles. Upon arrival, during the three-hour gap before my connecting flight to Las Vegas, devotees from Los Angeles treated me to an airport feast, expertly prepared by Jhulan-yatra dasi.

At a quiet spot outside the terminal, they set up a table, complete with table-cloth, incense, and flower vases. Turning my back on the crowds, I dined exquisitely on tofu-pizza and salad prasada. Later, inside the terminal, the cook’s husband, Snana-yatra das, an empowered veteran chiropractor, gently adjusted my neck and spine, and taught me exercises so that I could gradually heal myself. Now in much better shape, due to the devotee’s transcendental loving service, I successfully caught my connecting flight to Las Vegas.

Just see--even only a few hours of Vaishnava care, in the midst of an international airport, can make all the difference. The love of the devotees can turn hell into heaven. Yes, in Las Vegas I would stay put for three days, at the house of Surapala das and Krishna-mayi dasi. Then I would transit Los Angeles airport again, for another twelve-hour flight to New Zealand.

Staggering Onward: the Artic Circle and Moscow

Thu, 18 May 2006 17:25:13 -0600

Breaking out from medical confinement, I flew from St. Petersburg, Russia, up to the Artic Circle. The devotee-doctors, after four intense days of medical dramas, had agreed to my traveling—with an escort. My goal in devotional service: to help revive Krishna consciousness in Arkhangelsk and Severodvinsk, twin northerly cities on the White Sea, flowing from the Artic Ocean. Upon my arrival, however, the devotees told me that the government’s current version of the KGB, enforcing antiquated Soviet-era policies, had barred my entry to one of the cities. Severodvinsk is a military industrial city still closed to all foreigners, unless they gain special consent. The talk of the town there: the Russian navy was building a submarine and aircraft carrier for India at the port, and if a foreigner paid one thousand dollars, a worker would steal both ships for him.
While in St. Petersburg, I had been giving classes every day, throughout the health crisis. During kirtans, a squadron of devotee doctors kept me under surveillance, forbidding me to dance energetically. Especially jumping was banned. Honoring their restrictions, I subdued myself by leading while sitting in a chair. Now, far north on the Artic Circle, I was free from my benign bodyguards. Before leaving St. Petersburg, I thanked the devotee-doctors for their loving care. Amusing them, I read from a popular tourist guidebook about the ordinary Russian hospital system: “Shortages of medical supplies, unavailability of medical equipment, wards like a basement warehouse, nurses who ignore you until bribed . . . .” Foreigners requiring urgent attention, the book warned, should seek out the special private clinics set up to relieve them from anxiety--and their dollars, euros, and pounds too. Otherwise, “Get on a plane and fly out to neighboring Finland.” Suspecting exaggeration, due to foreign snobbery or prejudice, I asked the devotee-doctors for their own appraisal. After all, working in the hospitals, they should know. Smilingly gently, they informed me, “Your guidebook is understating; for the ordinary person, the reality is worse.” With the right connections in Russia, however, anything is possible, they explained. When you know what buttons to push, instantly, a genie pops out of the bottle and another dimension of Russia manifests—the best high tech and facilities of the West are at your fingertips. These devotee-doctors of St. Petersburg, wielding their insider influence, had on-the-spot arranged for me a majestic level of medical care and convenience that I would have never received so quickly and easily in Western Europe, the USA, or downunder, in Australia and New Zealand. And much of the examination and treatment they administered at home. Despite the crisis, I never spent a night in a hospital, public or private. All glories to the St. Petersburg medical Vaishnavas.
ISKCON in the polar region of Russia, after an initial boom when the iron curtain fell, had declined in the past decade. The reasons were understandable: these northernmost cities were so remote and . . . ice cold! Now the surviving devotees there were ready for a revival, spurred on by the dedicated regional secretary for northwest Russia, Vanamali Kaviraja das. A former maritime officer from Murmansk, the world’s most northerly city, Vanamali Kaviraja das is both spiritually and materially equipped for the polar region. He’s a wonderful devotee, with a supportive devotional wife, and he thinks nothing of extreme cold and the endless months without sun. Due to the last-minute KGB barrier, the devotees from Severodvinsk traveled thirty kilometers each day to attend our programmes he arranged in nearby Arkhangelsk. Quite a few devotees promised to revive their spiritual practices. “At last a senior Vaishnava has come to our world—the first time in a decade.” [photo view outside my window in Arkhangelsk: a typical Russian polar city vista]
Three days later I departed the Far North. Accompanied by my medical escort and translator, Prema Vardhana das, I flew south to Moscow, to visit “brahmachari heaven.” In a large new custom-built house on the edge of Moscow, forty brahamcharis lived, fraternized, worshipped, studied, and sankirtaned. What a paradise for the serious monastic student of bhakti-yoga. As the Bhagavatam states:
“The main purpose of ashrama-dharma is to awaken knowledge and detachment. The brahmachari ashrama is the training ground for the prospective candidates. In this ashrama it is instructed that this material world is not actually the home of the living being. The conditioned souls under material bondage are prisoners of matter, and therefore self-realization is the ultimate aim of life. The whole system of ashrama-dharma is a means to detachment. One who fails to assimilate this spirit of detachment is allowed to enter into family life with the same spirit of detachment. Therefore, one who attains detachment may at once adopt the fourth order, namely, renounced, and thus live on charity only, not to accumulate wealth, but just to keep body and soul together for ultimate realization. Household life is for one who is attached, and the vanaprastha and sannyasa orders of life are for those who are detached from material life. The brahmachari ashrama is especially meant for training both the attached and detached. (SB 1.9.26)
Here in this purport, Srila Prabhupada alleviates two popular current misconceptions. One, that grihastha life is a free-for-all, devoid of any restraint and regulation. He explains that the genuine householder is trained to “enter into family life with the same spirit of detachment.” Obviously the style of how that spirit is expressed will differ from the brahmachari’s style. Nevertheless, in its own venerable and celebrated way, the spirit is there, in family life where Krishna and devotional service is the centre. The other misconception is that the brahmachari ashram is only for those young men sure of lifelong celibacy. Prabhupada explains, “The brahmachari ashrama is the training ground for the prospective candidates. . . . The brahmachari ashrama is especially meant for training both the attached and detached.” As happens, after some time a prospective candidate for the sublime simplicity of renunciation may feel the need to enter married life, to work through an attachment in a venerable, certified way. The training he received as a brahmachari is the best preparation to see him through his new status.
Of course, our ISKCON society must indeed provide suitable training and facilities for brahmacharis. Otherwise the whole notion of brahmacharya becomes a farce. Actually, I have seen that brahmachari life in-name-only can be detrimental to the individual’s development. Irresponsibility and laziness are the result. And the householders, observing such externalism and superficiality, lose respect for brahmacarya and become cynical—what to speak of feeling no desire to offer charity: “Why should we support such a sorry plight?”
Single women also need proper facilities, care and guidance, while they are living in an ashram. In this way they can perform powerful and valuable service during their pre-marriage years. And it does happen that a small few will seek to remain single.
Admiring the brahmachari heaven in Moscow, you would wonder, “Who provided such a world-class, state-of-the-art facility? Where did the money come from? Look to the Moscow householders for your answer. Generous grihasthas, who understood and applied dharma, funded the project. The Vedic system asks that householders demonstrate charity and support for the monastics--brahmacharis and sannyasis—who demonstrate renunciation and missionary spirit. Both sectors, the family persons and the renounced persons, work together harmoniously for spiritually uplifting society.
My deep desire is that such ideal cooperation manifests in other parts of the world. In this way, both the householders and renunciants will thrive and the whole world will benefit.

Sympathy for Your Spiritual Master

Tue, 09 May 2006 23:05:54 -0600

Listening to Prabhupada’s bhajans, I watched the synthetic drugs drip into my vein through a tube in my arm. During this two-hour daily intravenous treatment [photos], I reflected upon the austerity of accepting disciples and its weighty effects. The facts: Srila Prabhupada rescued me from the disaster of Kali-yuga. Let the whole world know that I’m simply made of his mercy. Longing to reciprocate, I’m pushing on to make his mission and Goloka my home. As a humble service to our disciplic succession and ISKCON society, I’ve taken responsibility for others, that they also may journey to life’s ultimate goal. In other words, I’ve got to have the spiritual dynamics to forge ahead not only for myself, but also for the entire ISKCON society I’m serving, and, of course, for my spiritual dependents as well. Make no mistake about it: initiating devotees is not like ambling in a forest, savoring the fresh air, and gazing at the blue sky. In case you’ve forgotten, let me remind you that your spiritual preceptor doesn’t bask in flowers, obeisances, and praise—he gets hit with some other things too. The disciples, though often unconsciously, hurl stones like negligence, impersonalism, ingratitude, and offenses. Even worse, your guru gets a dose of your sinful reactions. As recorded in a Fourth Canto purport: “Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu therefore stated that the spiritual master who plays the part of Krsna's representative has to consume all the sinful reactions of his disciple. Sometimes a spiritual master takes the risk of being overwhelmed by the sinful reactions of the disciples and undergoes a sort of tribulation due to their acceptance.” (S. bhag. 4.21.31) Yes, ladies and gentlemen, let me remind you that accepting disciples is not a piece of cake. There are real occupational hazards, as Srila Prabhupada explains throughout his lectures and books. For example: “Krsna is so powerful that He can immediately take up all the sins of others and immediately make them right. But when a living entity plays the part on behalf of Krsna, he also takes the responsibility for the sinful activities of his devotees. Therefore to become a guru is not an easy task. You see? He has to take all the poisons and absorb them. So sometimes-because he is not Krsna-sometimes there is some trouble. " (Perfect Questions, Perfect Answers, chapter 6) “Sometimes the spiritual master, after accepting a disciple, must take charge of that disciple's past sinful activities and, being overloaded, must sometimes suffer-if not fully, then partially-for the sinful acts of the disciple.” (S. bhag. 9.9.5 purport) What’s more, troubles can attack not only the guru’s physical body but also his subtle body. Just like physical pain, nightmarish dreams are a disturbance that your spiritual master must tolerate. ISKCON’s founder-acarya describes this austerity: “A devotee sometimes accepts a sinful person as his disciple, and to counteract the sinful reactions he accepts from the disciple, he has to see a bad dream. Nonetheless, the spiritual master is so kind that in spite of having bad dreams due to the sinful disciple, he accepts this troublesome business for the deliverance of the victims of Kali-yuga.” (S. bhag. 8.4.15 purport) Why would anyone want to volunteer for such peril? Why not just mind your own business, look to your own spiritual progress, and in this way deftly trek back to Godhead--unburdened by others’ hang-ups and woes? After all, doesn’t the scripture warn about accepting many disciples? Indeed, who’d want to undergo the reactions from just one—what to speak of hundreds or thousands? "Don't make many disciples," Srila Prabhupada intoned. Then he presented the other side of the initiation paradox: “But we do it because we are preaching. Never mind--let us suffer. Still we shall accept them.” (PQPA 6) In Caitanya caritamrita, he explains: “According to Srila Jiva Gosvami, a preacher has to accept many disciples to expand the cult of Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu.” “Accepting an unlimited number of devotees or disciples is very risky for one who is not a preacher. This is risky because when a spiritual master accepts a disciple, he naturally accepts the disciple's sinful activities and their reactions. Unless he is very powerful, he cannot assimilate all the sinful reactions of his disciples. Thus if he is not powerful, he has to suffer the consequences, for one is forbidden to accept many disciples.” (Madhya 22.118) What saves the guru is preaching. Both his preaching and that of his disciples. Otherwise, without our constant striving to expand Mahaprabhu’s sankirtan movement, why accept disciples—just for flickering, imaginary fame, comfort, and prestige? The shastra warns initiators that unless they and their followers actively preach, reactions from disciples can become a tsunami. “But for preaching work we have to accept many disciples--for expanding preaching--even if we suffer. That's a fact. The spiritual master has to take the responsibility for all the sinful activities of his disciples. Therefore to make many disciples is a risky job unless one is able to assimilate all the sins . . . .” (PQPA6) The power to assimilate the sinful reactions derives from diligent, selfless dedication to Lord Caitanya’s global mission—pure devotional service as a servant of the servant. Accepting the missionary order of his own guru as his life and soul, the guru resolves the initiation paradox. “The poor spiritual master is kind and merciful enough to accept a disciple and partially suffer for that disciple's sinful activities, but Krishna, being merciful to His servant, neutralizes the reactions of sinful deeds for the servant who engages in preaching His glories. Even mother Ganges feared the sinful reactions of the people in general and was anxious about how she would counteract the burden of these sins.” (S. bhag. 9.9.5) Our saving Grace is when, as gurus and disciples, we all preach and distribute the name, fame, qualities and pastimes of the Supreme Personality of Godhead. Then Krishna will rescue us all—guru and disciple alike. “After initiation, therefore, a disciple should be extremely careful not to commit again any sinful act that might cause difficulties for himself and the spiritual master. Before the Deity, before the fire, before the spiritual master and before the Vaisnavas, the honest disciple promises to refrain from all sinful activity. Therefore he must not again commit sinful acts and thus create a troublesome situation.” (S. bhag. 8.4.15 purport) Declare it boldly to the world: An honest disciple is no ordinary person. Such meritorious souls, who cherish their initiation vows, are the actual active ingredients that push forward the entire Krishna consciousness movement. Year after year, decade after decade, such men and women of character and integrity hold tight to their promise—and see the result. “We should be very much cautious: ‘For my sinful actions my spiritual master will suffer, so I'll not commit even a pinch of sinful activities.’ That is the duty of the disciple. After initiation, all sinful reaction is finished. Now if he again commits sinful activities, his spiritual master has to suffer. A disciple should be sympathetic and consider this: ‘For my sinful activities, my spiritual master will suffer’." (PQPA 6)