Cults and Society, Vol. 1, No.
1, 2001
The Perils of Succession Heresies of Authority and
Continuity In the Hare Krishna Movement
Tamal
Krishna Goswami
Imagine, if
you will, a seventy-year-old Hindu Vaishnava scholar journeying from India
aboard a steamship bound for America. His personal effects consist of but a few
sets of saffron renunciate’s cloth, a pair of white rubber shoes, and forty
rupees (‘hardly a day’s spending money,’ he would later remark after arriving in
New York City). Though asking for alms is a privilege of his calling, he has no
intention of begging. Before taking the vow of renunciation (sannyasa),
he had a family, a business and hailed from a community of Bengali merchants who
prospered during the British Raj. Now he had, stowed amidst the ship’s cargo,
three treasure chests filled with sets of his published translations of the
ancient Bhagavata-Purana. These priceless treasures are to be both the
basis of his mission and the means of his survival, but he wonders how the West
will receive them. Arriving at Boston Harbour on 17, September 1965, observing
the awesome display of material success played out on the American skyline, he
composes the following lines:
My dear
Lord Krishna, You are so kind upon this useless soul, but I do not know why
You have brought me here. Now You can do whatever You like with me. But I
guess You have some business here, otherwise why would You bring me to this
terrible place? Most of the population here is covered by the material modes
of ignorance and passion. Absorbed in material life, they think themselves
very happy and satisfied, and therefore they have no taste for the
transcendental message of Vasudeva. I do not know how they will be able to
understand it (Goswami, S. 1983: Vol. II: 281).
From the
moment of his landing, his thoughts pregnant with uncertainty, to his first
temples in the counter-culture capitals of New York’s Lower East Side and San
Francisco’s Haight, A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami focused his mission: to transplant
the sacred wisdom of India into the fertile soil of the West. His mission was
time-bound, no less by his advanced age, than by the growing secularism which
had already begun to uproot his motherland’s timeworn traditions. If his
fledgling attempt succeeded in America, he would not only export it all over the
world, but use it to rekindle the flagging spirit of his own countrymen.
Prabhupada—to
use the respectful address later given Bhaktivedanta Swami by his
disciples—brought to his task some exceptional qualifications. His religious
education began in childhood under the tutelage of devout parents. Later, he
attended compulsory Bible classes while majoring in philosophy, Sanskrit and
English Literature at Calcutta’s Scottish Churches’ College. Family obligations
then obliged him to pursue a business career that provided him skills as an
organiser. But the missionary zeal, which energised the second half of his life,
was a consequence of none of these. Rather, it was the direct influence of his
guru, Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati’s lineage is traced to
the fifteenth century saint Sri Caitanya, who is considered by the tradition to
be an incarnation of the Godhead with other gods subordinate to him.
Caitanyaism, or more correctly Gaudiya-Vaishnavism, traces its line further back
to the thirteenth century teacher Madhva and, the tradition holds, to the
creator Brahma and before him, the Godhead Krishna. The various branches of
Vaishnavism are clearly monotheistic, worshipping Vishnu or one of his prominent
manifestations as the Supreme Deity. The nuances which differentiate each of the
schools of Vaishnavism will not concern us here apart from distinguishing Sri
Caitanya’s teaching which is compressed within the slogan
acintya-bhedabheda-tattva—the inconceivable simultaneous oneness and
difference between God and the individual soul.
The foundation
of Caitanya’s philosophy is the Bhagavata-Purana, a Sanskrit compilation
of prodigious length, attributed to Vyasadeva. Caitanya’s followers produced a
vast corpus of original work as well as commentaries on the Bhagavata and
other classic texts. A formidable library was thus created to firmly fix the
sect’s teachings. As an initiated disciple in the line of Caitanya, Prabhupada
studied and published articles on many of these texts and in 1939 was awarded
the title ‘Bhaktivedanta’ by his godbrothers in recognition of his scholarship
(Goswami, S. 1980: Vol. I: 103).
While much
care was taken to insure the sect’s textual orthodoxy, organisationally
Caitanya’s movement was nothing more than numerous disciplic lines descended
from his original followers. Though doctrinal differences often differentiated
them, they were bound together only by their collective allegiance to Caitanya,
not by any common organisational affiliation. An effort to resolve this lack of
cohesion was made by Kedaranatha Datta, later known as Bhaktivinoda Thakura. The
father of Prabhupada’s guru Bhaktisiddhanta, Bhaktivinoda served as Chief
Magistrate of the High Court in Puri, Orissa, a post that included honorary
jurisdiction over the ancient temple of Jagannatha. He was an avid student of
world religions. A spiritual search eventually led him to rediscover his own
Caitanya tradition, and he became its most ardent champion. Over the centuries,
its prestige had become tarnished by various sahajiya sects who often
sacramentalised sex. Bhaktivinoda concluded that they misconstrued the theology,
claiming allegiance to Caitanya without strictly following his pure discipline.
Bhaktivinoda proceeded to renovate the line. Most importantly for our purpose
here, for the first time he gave Caitanya’s movement coherent organisational
structure, creating a loose confederation which he dubbed Sri Nama-Hatta,
‘the market place of the holy name.’[i]
Using the influence of his office, he vigorously organised a massive network of
practitioners, creating a hierarchy of leadership and designating for himself
the humble role of ‘sweeper’ of the market place—in effect, ‘protector of the
faith’. (See Bhaktivinoda 1983: 17)
Bhaktivinoda’s
son continued the work begun by his father. Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati founded
the Gaudiya Matha with its sixty-four affiliated temples and initiated some
sixty thousand disciples. Keeping in the spirit of his father, not only was he a
prolific author and publisher of Caitanyaite literature, but he also further
standardised the Caitanyaite devotional practices while erecting a tightly knit
organisational superstructure. However, the weakness of that structure was
revealed only after he expired. His chief followers failed to abide by his final
instruction to form a governing body that would replace him as the ultimate
authority. Consequently, the Gaudiya Matha succumbed to factionalism and legal
bickering over the division of the vast holdings accumulated during the lifetime
of its founder.
Prabhupada’s
solitary voyage to the West was as much due to his disgust at seeing his guru’s
institution fracture as to the missionary order he had received from him. He was
determined that the society he formed would not repeat the failure of succession
that had befallen the mission of his guru. But given the strangeness of his
religious and cultural message as well as the youth of his first followers, the
same problems of succession were practically inevitable.
Perhaps the
most formidable, and certainly the first, obstacle to overcome was his Western
audience’s relative unfamiliarity with Caitanya’s teachings. He would have to
unpack the densely encoded Sanskrit texts for his Western readers. For this
purpose, he reached beyond the specific Caitanya liturgy to the Bhagavad-gita,
Isopanishad and Bhagavata-Purana. His ‘Bhaktivedanta Purports,’
heavily stamped with his devotion for Krishna, were meant to insure his
followers absolute fidelity. As he would declare in 1975, ‘My books will be the
law books for the next ten thousand years.’[ii]
But Prabhupada
quickly discovered that while his young American converts could easily modify
their hippie habits to conform to the monastic discipline, it was far more
difficult for them to leave behind their intellectual baggage. Obedience to
authority of any sort was the thing his largely youthful audience found most
abhorrent. If subservience to the guru’s instructions was something even his
advanced godbrothers in India had found difficult, could these young Americans
be expected to conquer their own rebelliousness? As often and repeatedly as he
beat them with mantras and lessons, at least a few could not. One
disciple in particular, Kirtanananda Swami—the very first to shave his head and
don the traditional monk’s robes of a sannyasi as early as 1966—proved to
be incorrigible.
The early case
of Kirtanananda Swami forecast the problems of succession that lay ahead,
problems of authority and of the continuity of tradition, faced both by
Prabhupada and later, by his disciples after Prabhupada’s departure. While he
might personally be able to nourish and protect the movement in its infancy, its
inevitable expansion would require a suitable superstructure that would endure
the crisis created by his demise.
E. Burke
Rochford, Jr. and Larry D. Shinn in their respective works, and ISKCON scholar
Ravindra Svarupa dasa in a number of essays, have amply documented the struggle
for authority created by Prabhupada’s departure (See Rochford, E. B., Jr. 1985,
Shinn, Larry 1987: 47-60, and dasa, Ravindra Svarupa 1985, 1994). All three
scholars more or less concur on identifying the major issues: "who are the real
inheritors of Prabhupada’s mantle? The new gurus? The GBC? All the disciples of
Prabhupada who have the capacity to be gurus? No easy answers emerged in the
years following Prabhupada’s death." (Shinn, 1987: 49).[iii]
Two prominent
Indian supporters of ISKCON raised the same questions when they met Prabhupada
in Vrindavana shortly before his death in 1977.[iv]
Would Prabhupada appoint a single successor from among his followers?
Prabhupada’s answer: All his disciples would succeed him. The response
disappointed them, for they had in mind the autocratic guru of Hindu tradition.
Perhaps if they had been more familiar with Prabhupada’s teachings they would
not have been so surprised. In a purport to the Sri Caitanya-caritamrita
(Adi-lila, 12.8), he writes:
Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati Thakura, at the time of his departure, requested
all his disciples to form a governing body and conduct missionary activity
cooperatively. He did not instruct a particular man to become the next
acarya. But just after his passing away, his leading secretaries made
plans, without authority, to occupy the post of acarya, and they
split into two factions over who the next acarya would be.
Consequently, both factions were asura, or useless, because they had
no authority, having disobeyed the order of the spiritual master
(Prabhupada1975).
Indeed, Lord
Caitanya had given an open order for all to ‘become a spiritual master and try
to liberate everyone in this land.’[v]
But a succession of "all" is a succession of none. Yet, anarchy was certainly
not Prabhupada’s intention.
In the
disobedience of his first disciple Kirtananda, Prabhupada recognised the seeds
of dissent, which, if left unchecked, would dismantle his fledgling institution.
Kirtanananda’s challenge must have convinced Prabhupada that he needed to train
his disciples quickly in order to form a governing board to insure the
institution’s cohesion, particularly when he was no longer present. At least
while he was present he could lay the foundation and construct the framework for
his vision of a vast missionary movement. Thus by 1970, four years after
incorporating the International Society for Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON),
Prabhupada established the Governing Body Commission (GBC), as his "direct
representatives to act as the instrument for the execution of the will of His
Divine Grace" (Goswami, S. 1982: Vol. IV: 103-104).[vi]
But an organisational superstructure is no better than its members and therein
lay a huge problem.
Kirtananda
Swami was the son of a Southern Baptist minister. Initiated by Prabhupada into
the order of sannyasa while accompanying his master to India, Kirtananda
believed that the spreading of Krishna consciousness was hampered by the
devotees’ odd appearance—by the traditional robes and sikha, the tuft of
hair left on an otherwise cleanly shaven head.[vii]
But Kirtananda and his spiritual master disagreed on more than what constituted
proper devotional attire. Underlying the misgiving about dress, were
Kirtanananda’s doubts about dualism: he could not distinguish between the
impersonal and personal features of Krishna, between the soul as individually
distinct from the Godhead (See letters to Brahmananda, Rayarama, and Gargamuni,
Prabhupada1987: 229–230, 232).
Prabhupada’s
initial response to Kirtanananda’s deviation was novel: rather than condemning
his speculations, he suggested that Kirtananda stop in London on his return to
America in order to test out his ideas. But Kirtananda circumvented his guru’s
order, flying directly to New York where he made his godbrothers the target of
his new gospel. Prabhupada tightened the screws: he ordered that Kirtananda
should be stopped from speaking in any of the society’s temples.[viii]
When his disciples wrote to India repeating Kirtanananda’s arguments, Prabhupada
refuted impersonalism in each of his replies. Yet he did not reject his wayward
disciple; Kirtanananda’s confusion, he suggested, was a "temporary manifestation
of maya [illusion]" and "will be corrected as soon as I return" (See
letter to Himavati, Prabhupada1987: 241–2).[ix]
Prabhupada
explained that he signed all his letters to disciples as "Your ever well-wisher"
to indicate that he remained ever concerned for his disciples, even if they left
him. But other disciples found it difficult to embrace their spiritual master’s
mood. They spat on Kirtananda and ejected him from the temple (See letter to
Rayarama, Prabhupada1987: 243–4).
Kirtanananda’s
mistaken attitude, Prabhupada ultimately concluded, was based on his refusal to
accept the parampara (disciplic succession) system and the authority of
the scriptures. His misfortune, however, proved a learning experience for the
other disciples. Though one or two had been swayed by Kirtanananda’s arguments,
the majority had become strengthened by successfully defending their guru’s
teachings. The harsh response of the spitting incidents was tempered by
Prabhupada’s abiding concern for even one who had turned against him.
Consequently, within a matter of months, Kirtananda had recanted and apologised
and began work once more under his master to establish the New Vrindaban, West
Virginia community. Though time would prove that his philosophical
misconceptions were not in fact corrected, Prabhupada’s skilful handling of the
incident allowed Kirtananda to return, at least temporarily, to active and
beneficial service for ISKCON.[x]
The Kirtananda
incident is the first instance of an open challenge to the founder’s authority.
It was not Prabhupada alone but the authority of the entire disciplic line and
the scriptures that were being questioned. In the Christian tradition, such
challenges were regarded as heresy; and the heretic was considered as evil:
The word
heresy is derived from a Greek word meaning "choice." It had been
used to designate the particular teachings of philosophical schools, and it
denoted the opinions that each one had chosen. Christian writers began to
use the term and soon gave it a pejorative significance. To them it
indicated that a person had chosen a human opinion and rejected divine
revelation. In this sense heresy has an evil significance, and the heretic
is considered evil (Tyson 1984: 410).
We may note,
in comparison, that in Prabhupada’s estimation Kirtananda deviated from the
authority of the disciplic line and scripture, which was for ISKCON a rejection
of divine revelation in favour of human opinion. Prabhupada treated
Kirtanananda’s influence as an evil to be carefully guarded against, but unlike
his disciples who demonised the evil-doer, Prabhupada treated him with
compassion.[xi]
As we shall see, this is often a distinguishing feature in the way Prabhupada
and his disciples handled similar challenges.
In fact, the
challenges faced first by Prabhupada and later by his disciples are so
strikingly similar that they appear to be mirror images of each other, logically
suggesting a treatment in consonance with their inherent congruence. They fall
within two broad categories: the problem of (a) authority of the leadership, and
(b) continuity of the tradition. These are the two crucial problems every
founded religion must solve if it wishes to preserve its identity over time,
particularly after the founder’s departure. We shall look at four "heresies" of
authority, the first two as they arose while the founder was still alive,
showing how he met these challenges, then looking at two "heresies" of
authority that arose after the founder’s departure, showing how his disciples
met and are meeting these challenges. We will then treat four heresies of
continuity following the same scheme—first during the founder’s time, then
during the period of his disciples. But before we begin, a brief caveat for
ISKCON readers.
Heresies
polarise. But divisiveness is not necessarily bad. The disruptive beliefs and
actions of contentious persons can also be stimulants, forcing the institution
and its leaders to define and defend itself. Exploring heresy can provide
insights into doctrinal and institutional issues that other methods might not so
easily reveal. The study of heresies, therefore, is important for more than
antiquarian reasons. A religious tradition should pay attention to heresies not
merely to guard against the errors of the past (and certainly not to demonise
their advocates) but to learn from them. Every heresy is a warning of
unresolved tensions within a tradition and a challenge to preserve the tradition
in changing cultural and intellectual circumstances.
Heresies of Authority
The Guru
is God Heresy
There were
lessons, undoubtedly, in the Kirtananda episode for Prabhupada as well as for
his disciples. Upon his return to America, he increased his translation output
with the intention of establishing the movement on a firm philosophical footing.
At the same time he began the formation of a body to govern his growing
institution.[xii]
It may be
recalled that after the departure of Prabhupada’s guru, the Gaudiya Matha
splintered when Bhaktisiddhanta’s senior disciples, instead of following his
instruction to govern collegially, attempted to appoint a sole successor. Thirty
years had elapsed and each leader was now the head of his own institution. They
had been silent when, immediately after arriving in America, Prabhupada had
sought their help. Now, hearing of Prabhupada’s success, they suggested he
return to India to discuss the most effective means to spread Caitanya’s
teachings. But Prabhupada was wary of their sudden interest in his activities.
"Tell them," he said, "that I will only come if they agree to form a governing
body with twelve members. Since they have never dared to leave India, they can
collectively appoint one representative and ISKCON shall make up the other
eleven" (Goswami, T. 1991:193).
There was no
reply. Instead, a veiled criticism of Prabhupada was included in a letter to
devotees in New York from Acyutananda dasa, a disciple of Prabhupada who was
living in one of the Indian Gaudiya Mathas. Acyutananda dasa suggested that the
title "Prabhupada" ("he, at whose feet all masters sit") should be reserved for
Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati and Rupa Goswami (Sri Caitanya’s foremost disciple).
Always alert lest any harm befall his fledgling movement, Prabhupada viewed his
disciple’s criticism as a spot of cancer which, if left unchecked, would
relativise his absolute position. He also noted that the honorific "His Divine
Grace" and "Prabhupada" had come to be omitted from the cover of the most recent
of his translations released by ISKCON Press, Boston. Another publication merely
described him as "acarya," ("the institutional head") even though he had
instructed that the title "founder-acarya" be included in all his
publications.
To get a
better sense of the distinction we need to explicate the term acarya.
"One who teaches by example" (which may refer to any genuine devotee) is the
first definition. Another meaning is "one who grants initiation to a
disciple,"—in other words, a guru. Then there is a third meaning, "the spiritual
head of an institution," a title that may be given to future successors. But the
designation "founder-acarya" is exclusive, inapplicable to any other head
of the institution other than its founder.[xiii]
When Prabhupada objected to the omission of "founder" before the title "acarya,"
he was obviously insisting on this last definition.
Prabhupada
detected similar challenges to his absolute authority in the behaviour of
certain leaders of his Los Angeles headquarters. Increasingly, in the guise of
protecting his privacy for his translating, the leaders denied devotees direct
access to him. In San Francisco at the Festival of the Chariots, there was no
seat for him on any of the carts. Thus, he saw on a number of places moves to
minimise his position. With an adroitness which was characteristic of his
administrative skills, he acted suddenly to check this latest threat. First, he
awarded the renounced order of sannyasa to his errant managers,
commanding that they give up their administrative roles in exchange for
travelling and preaching. Simultaneously, he appointed twelve of his most
trusted disciples as members of the first Governing Body Commission. As a final
act, he announced that despite his poor health and advanced age, he would
himself leave for establishing ISKCON’s mission in India, the source of the
attack on his movement.
But the cancer
had not been checked. Halting in Japan en route to India, Prabhupada learned
that four of his new renunciants had begun preaching a strange gospel. At a huge
gathering of ISKCON faithful at New Vrindaban on Krishna’s birth anniversary,
1970, they had announced that by leaving America, Prabhupada had rejected his
disciples for failing to recognise that Prabhupada was actually Krishna
Himself. This was nothing but another aspect of impersonalism. While
Kirtananda had previously failed to distinguish between the personal and
impersonal conceptions of Godhead, the new sannyasis had failed to
distinguish the guru from the Godhead. Vaishnavas teach that the guru is the
servant of God, but never the Godhead Himself. A Vaishnava spiritual master will
never say that he is God or that God is impersonal.
In Japan,
Prabhupada revealed the underlying implication: by making him God, the seat of
the guru was now vacated to make room for one of his Gaudiya Matha godbrothers.
He was, in effect, being kicked upstairs. He asked Sudama dasa and Tamal Krishna
Goswami, the two GBC representatives with him in Tokyo, what they intended to
do. In unison they responded that the four errant sannyasis should be
driven out of ISKCON. Prabhupada immediately agreed.
The GBC
members at the New Vrindavana festival had already begun to expose the
fallacious teachings of the four sannyasis by citing numerous references
from Prabhupada’s books. But they were surprised by the harsh edict that came
from Japan. Nevertheless, they carried out the order, relaying Prabhupada’s
instruction that the sannyasis must now preach separately from the
institution, depending solely on Krishna for their support. Though penniless and
without institutional shelter, the forced independence appeared to strengthen
their connection with Prabhupada, and they headed in different directions to
carry out his order to preach.
Prabhupada’s
stern response seems to indicate that he was prepared to sacrifice a few
individuals to save his Society from being seriously infected with what he
considered impersonalist poison. He did not, however, reject the errant
sannyasis; he had merely quarantined them from other disciples to prevent
further harm to his movement. He continued to correspond with them and
encouraged them to preach. Gradually purified by the ordeal, each was eventually
incorporated back into ISKCON and went on to perform important service for the
Society.
At the heart
of this heresy is the challenge to Prabhupada’s authority. Elevating Prabhupada
to the position of God cleared the way for a successor, which in this case
Prabhupada believed to be one of his godbrothers. Because Prabhupada saw this as
the real threat, he may have been more severe in his response than when he dealt
with Kirtanananda. As long as the living authority is on earth, he may adopt
strategies that can seem inconsistent. Although he never acts arbitrarily (he is
guided by sadhu and shastra—the precedents set by previous saintly
persons and the injunctions of scripture), time, place, and circumstances may
influence his decisions. Guru, sadhu and shastra check and balance
each other. But when the guru departs sadhu and shastra can take
on a new import, as those who succeed him become the new interpreters of past
precedents, scriptural law and new set of circumstances.
The
Centralisation Heresy
Although the
Governing Body Commission would eventually become "the ultimate managing
authority of ISKCON" (Goswami, S. 1983: Vol. VI: 328–9), Prabhupada retained
final authority in all matters during his lifetime. Once in a while he vetoed
the GBC’s decisions, and on one notable occasion he was forced to suspend its
functioning entirely. In March of 1972, without consulting Prabhupada, eight of
the twelve GBC members held a meeting in New York to centralise ISKCON’s
management. The plan was to centralise control in the hands of each zonal
secretary by giving the GBC member complete control over the temples’ finances.
All funds collected were to be sent to a head office, which would then allot
expenditures to each temple. In a memo he issued to all ISKCON temple
presidents, Prabhupada referred to the "big, big minutes" of the meeting in
which they had inducted one of his disciples, the chartered accountant Atreya
Risi dasa, as a new member and as secretary. The meeting had empowered a
management committee of two to act without Prabhupada’s permission and "without
divulging to the devotees" (Prabhupada 1987: 1956-7).
This attempt
at autonomy "has upset my brain," Prabhupada wrote his temple presidents. He
spelled out his alarm in capitals: "I AUTHORISE YOU TO DISREGARD FOR THE TIME
BEING ANY DECISION FROM THE GBC MEN UNTIL MY FURTHER INSTRUCTION." Seeking to
establish a direct link with each temple president, he urged that they manage
their temples’ affairs "peacefully and independently," and inform him of the
names of their assistants. Finally, he repeated: "ALL GBC ORDERS ARE SUSPENDED
HEREWITH BY ME UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE."
In a further
letter to Hamsaduta dasa, one of the illegitimate meeting’s organisers,
Prabhupada pointed out how it was unconstitutional (1987: 1958–9).[xiv]
The seven members in attendance may have constituted a quorum, but the meeting
had been convened without a general announcement to all twelve GBC members.
Prabhupada expressed surprise that none of the other GBC members had detected
this defect in the procedure. "What will happen when I am not here, shall
everything be spoiled by GBC?"
Prabhupada’s
concern seemed to focus on two issues. The first was to avoid centralisation
that would hamper each temple’s development by dampening their individual
enthusiasm. In a letter dated 13, October 1969, prior to the GBC’s
establishment, Prabhupada wrote this writer (1987: 1054):
I have
seen the agenda of your presidents’ meeting. This is nice. One thing should
be followed, however, as your countrymen are more or less independent
spirited and lovers of democracy. So everything should be done very
carefully so that their sentiments may not be hurt, According to Sanskrit
moral principles, everything has to be acted, taking consideration of the
place, audience and time. As far as possible the centres should act freely,
but conjointly. They must look forward to the common development.
Further
instructions contained in a letter dated October 18 indicate Prabhupada’s
concern to avoid centralisation, yet encourage organisation (Goswami 1991:
189-97). A secondary concern was the undue stress on management and finances
that Prabhupada believed was not a solution to some of the problems of spiritual
laxity, but their cause. He described these problems as (1) a failure to
maintain neatness and cleanliness ("I still see those who are initiated as
brahmanas, they do not wash their hand after eating even; of course, there
may be so many defects due to your births in non-brahmana families, but
how long shall it go on?"); (2) failure of all the members to chant sixteen
rounds daily; (3) failure at times to maintain the rigid schedule of temple
worship beginning at 4:00 a.m. ("I find that the devotees are still sleeping up
to six, seven o’clock.") (See letter to Hamsaduta, Prabhupada1987: 1958-9)
A terse
telegram from Prabhupada summarises his view: "Your material legal formula will
not help us. Only our spiritual life can help us." (See telegrams to Hamsaduta,
Karandhara and all temple presidents, 1987: 1954-5.)
Prabhupada
called his GBC member for Western USA, Karandhara dasa, to Tokyo to clearly
establish the GBC’s responsibilities. In a letter issued by Karandhara, but
bearing Prabhupada’s signature of approval, one can sense Prabhupada’s
authorship:
The
formula for ISKCON organisation is very simple and can be understood by
everyone. The world is divided into twelve zones. For each zone there is one
zonal secretary appointed by Srila Prabhupada. The zonal secretary’s duty is
to see that the spiritual principles are being upheld very nicely in all the
temples of the zone. Otherwise each temple shall be independent and
self-supporting. Let every temple president work according to his own
capacity to improve the Krishna consciousness of the centre. So far the
practical management is concerned, that is required, but not that we should
become too much absorbed in fancy organisation. Our business is spiritual
life, so whatever organisation needs to be done, the presidents may handle
and take advice and assistance from their GBC representative. In this way
let the Society’s work go on and everyone increase their service at their
own creative rate. (See letter to all temple presidents, Prabhupada1987:
1966–7)
The failed
attempt at centralisation did not mean that Prabhupada’s chosen leaders would
cease jockeying for position and control, desires that seem at the heart of each
heresy. Indeed, every religion’s history is chequered with dark moments of
ambition, in which personal desire is seen as divine empowerment. Prabhupada’s
formula for preventing such hegemony was to ensure each temple’s autonomy within
a loose-knit framework supervised by the GBC. Local temples were to be
financially and legally autonomous though spiritually answerable to the GBC. Yet
in 1976 Prabhupada again encountered an attempt at centralisation, this time
under the prompting of lawyers who suggested that all ISKCON temples in the
United States should be sheltered under a single "umbrella corporation."
Prabhupada again stubbornly opposed this, insisting that it would make all
ISKCON temples vulnerable to any litigation filed against one. Time proved
Prabhupada’s wisdom; had ISKCON followed its legal advisors, it would have been
bankrupted by the anti-cult inspired court cases of the 1980s.
By suspending
the GBC temporarily, Prabhupada indicated that this highest body was neither
infallible nor autonomous. As long as he was present, it was answerable to him,
but in his absence how would its mistakes be rectified? Ideally, it would
correct itself, but events following Prabhupada’s departure proved otherwise.
The Zonal
acarya Heresy
The departure
of ISKCON’s charismatic founder traumatised the Society’s entire membership and,
as might be expected, inaugurated an extended struggle to resolve the issue of
authority. His death was not sudden, but followed a protracted illness lasting a
year. Though devotees had enough time to prepare themselves for the inevitable
conclusion, their total dependence upon Prabhupada left them deeply shaken by
his absence. The aftershocks were felt again and again, individually and on
ISKCON as a whole. Prabhupada had warned that the acarya’s departure is a
great loss to the world; the spiritual vacuum thus created would be the cause of
havoc in his institution, a view confirmed by the history of the Gaudiya Matha.
But despite such warnings, ISKCON’s leaders acted hastily to fill the void
created by Prabhupada’s departure. No doubt they were motivated by one of
Prabhupada’s final requests that they at least maintain what he had left them.
Yet immaturity and, on the part of some, desire and ambition, led to the
establishment of a zonal acarya system in the 1980s which threatened to
leave ISKCON as divided as the Gaudiya Matha. The eighties decade also saw
attempts to bring into ISKCON acaryas from outside Gaudiya groups. It
also saw the proposal that since none of Prabhupada’s disciples was qualified to
serve as guru, Prabhupada himself would continue to initiate posthumously (the
ritvik-acarya theory).
The GBC was in
place to oversee the functioning of ISKCON. Yet how was this "ultimate managing
authority" to be harmonised with the position of the initiating guru,
particularly as the role of the guru had become institutionalised in ISKCON
after Prabhupada’s departure? Ravindra Svarupa frames the issue for us "The
problem arose when the conception of guru was implicitly based on the
traditional model of an inspired, charismatic, spiritual autocrat, an absolute
and autonomously decisive authority, around who an institution takes shape as
the natural extension and embodiment of his charisma" (dasa, R. 1994: 43). This
echoes Shinn’s remarks, following the views of Max Weber: "Consequently, if the
movement begun by such a charismatic figure is to continue, the charisma must
somehow be ‘routinised’ or transferred to surviving institutional rules or
structures" (Shinn 1987: 50).
Prabhupada
prepared for such routinisation by creating the GBC. ‘The practical problem
facing ISKCON after Srila Prabhupada’s demise was this: "How do gurus, who are
God’s direct representatives and according to fundamental Vaishnava theology to
be worshipped by their disciples 'on an equal level with God,' fit within an
organisation functioning through modern rational and legal modes under the
direction of a committee?" (dasa, R. 1994: 25)
In their first
annual meeting held after Prabhupada’s demise in the spring of 1978 in Mayapur,
West Bengal, the GBC decided to consult Prabhupada’s respected and closest
godbrother B. R. Sridhara Maharaja to help resolve this dilemma. But in the
Gaudiya Matha, Sridhara Maharaja himself had been prominent among those
advocating a successor acarya instead of the GBC that Bhaktisiddhanta had
ordered after his own guru’s demise. Now the acarya at the head of his
own institution, he recommended that ISKCON gurus must be similarly absolute:
The
majority (of the GBC) are non-acarya (non-guru). According to my
opinion, that will create a difficulty. In our system, both autocracy and
democracy cannot go together. But ours is an autocratic thing, extremely
autocratic. Guru is all in all. Our submission to guru is unconditional.
This is a great difficulty. Submission to guru is unconditional. So when I
(as a disciple) see my guru’s powers are being pressed by other Vaishnavas
it will create disturbance in the mind of the shishya (disciple), to
grow his shraddha, faith, absolute faith . . . It is better that the
members of the governing body be gurus. They are all acaryas. The
assembly of acaryas will consult with one another. (See Rochford
1991: 223)
Six months
before his own demise, Prabhupada had announced that he would appoint some of
his disciples to perform all of the functions of initiating new disciples, as he
had become too ill to do so. Those so initiated would still be Prabhupada’s
disciples, while those who would be initiated after his demise would become his
grand-disciples. Shortly thereafter, Prabhupada selected eleven disciples to
begin assisting him and asked his secretary to communicate their names to the
rest of ISKCON.[xv]
Following
Prabhupada’s death and the fateful meeting with Prabhupada’s godbrother Sridhara
Maharaja, the eleven gurus named by Prabhupada assumed an extraordinary position
above all others including the non-guru GBC members. Even within the GBC, they
established their own Guru Board to appoint new gurus and handle guru problems.
In the temples their status was elevated practically equal to Prabhupada’s. They
accepted honorific titles, were given elevated seats and were worshipped in the
same manner accorded previously to Prabhupada. Each was allocated his own
exclusive geographical area in which to initiate—his own GBC zone and that of
any other non-guru GBC willing to align with him. Since all the new recruits
soon became his disciples, each guru exercised an increasing influence over not
only the devotees within his own GBC zone, but any other zone of which he was
the initiating guru. Thus, for all purposes he became the zonal acarya,
the head of the institution (or at least a significant geographical portion of
the institution).
As Ravindra
Svarupa notes, "The guru zones were more unified than ISKCON as a whole, which
was becoming increasingly fragmented, turning into a kind of amphictyony of
independently empowered leaders" (dasa, R. 1994: 31). While disciples of the new
gurus found nothing strange in this new arrangement, disciples of Prabhupada who
were not gurus became increasingly alarmed. In Pradyumna dasa’s prophetic letter
written just after the changes were set in place, he expresses his concerns in
two ways. First, that the eleven gurus not having been appointed to the position
of acarya and for which they are unqualified both by (a) insufficient
knowledge of shastra (scripture) and (b) the incomplete realisation of
Krishna Consciousness, are accepting worship on that level—and this may lead to
anomalies in the Society and personally, because of lack of complete detachment
in atma-jnana (knowledge of the self), to have build-up of pride, and
subsequent fall-down. Secondly, that the united society ISKCON, because of a
legal division and control by a few members instead of the joint GBC, will
become broken up in separate societies and the unified preaching effort very
much hindered (See, dasa, R. S. 1985b).
An exodus of
Prabhupada’s disciples followed. Within only a few years of his departure, a
majority of Prabhupada’s disciples ceased to actively participate in ISKCON.[xvi]
Faith in the
gurus and in the institution as a whole was severely shaken when the GBC had to
censure three of the eleven gurus for varying degrees of misconduct. Jayatirtha
dasa was found to be taking "LSD" and was guilty of sexual transgressions.
Hamsaduta Swami, in a much publicised case, was discovered amassing weapons, and
was also found to be sexually promiscuous. Tamal Krishna Goswami, the leader of
a large number of sannyasa and brahmacari preachers, insisted that
he was now their via media in relating to Prabhupada and expected that
his godbrothers follow him absolutely. Furthermore, he temporarily engaged them
in raising funds for community development rather than allowing them to continue
the service of book selling, the principal missionary directive they had
received from Prabhupada. The GBC suspended the initiating rights of all three
gurus. But when on the advice of Prabhupada’s godbrother Sridhara Maharaja, the
sanctions came to be lifted surprisingly soon, it seemed that individual gurus
had become stronger than the collective GBC. At the same time, Sridhara
Maharaja’s influence continued to increase as a number of prominent ISKCON
leaders including Jayatirtha defected to join his camp. The defectees claimed
that Sridhara Maharaja, due to his exalted qualifications, was clearly
Prabhupada’s successor.
As Rochford
has rightly pointed out, Sridhara Maharaja, perhaps unwittingly at first, became
a political symbol for growing discontent with the ISKCON management system
(Rochford, 1985: 247). Surrounded by dissidents, Sridhara Maharaja’s criticism
of the GBC increased, and he also raised the questions about certain decisions
and actions of Prabhupada. This seemed to confirm to ISKCON leaders what they
had previously learned from Prabhupada: it was best to keep away from the
Gaudiya Matha. Wary of further contact, the GBC entirely separated themselves
from Sridhara Maharaja.[xvii]
But this did
not remedy the unhappy state of affairs within ISKCON. Divisiveness due to zonal
acarya hegemony continued to increase until the leading non-GBC disciples
of Prabhupada, many of them temple presidents in North America, expressed their
collective outrage. By the end of 1984 they launched what came to be known as
the "guru reform movement," culminating in the fateful meeting at the New
Vrindavana community attended by all GBC and temple presidents and open to all
Prabhupada disciples. This cathartic gathering, which had begun from a
groundswell of discontent, gained such momentum that it eventually swept away
the entire zonal acarya system. At the next annual GBC meeting in the
spring of 1987, the number of ISKCON gurus was more than doubled and the number
of GBC men significantly increased to include some of the prominent leaders of
the guru reform movement.[xviii]
Gurus were now free to initiate in any zone.[xix]
Most significantly, each guru was clearly made to understand that his authority
was tied to the GBC, thus re-establishing Prabhupada, through the GBC, as the
head of ISKCON.
The stormy
decade following Prabhupada’s demise left many casualties in its wake: perhaps
as many as 90% of Prabhupada’s initiated disciples were now marginalised;
disciples of fallen gurus felt they had no shelter; the preaching mission as a
whole lost momentum and cohesion. ISKCON was battered and bruised—but it had
survived. Important lessons had been learned. One was that Prabhupada’s position
was unique and not to be imitated. His status was not due merely to being
ISKCON’s founder, but to his exalted level of Krishna consciousness. The status
of GBC, gurus, and other leaders, on the other hand, was as much a matter of
inheritance as personal qualification. But reliance on such inherited status,
without a continued effort to become actually qualified, would prove to be but a
thin veneer of spirituality. Knowing devotees to be fallible, Prabhupada had
purposely named no single successor, but instead had designated the GBC as the
ultimate managing authority for ISKCON.[xx]
In doing so, Prabhupada forbade any single person, no matter how exalted, to try
to imitate his position. Rather, all were enjoined to "follow in his
footsteps."
The GBC
emerged from the zonal acarya decade a tougher, more honest, and
thoroughly collegial body. No longer did individuals fighting for turf dominate
it. Gurus with large followings sat on an equal level with non-guru godbrothers.
And they were not the only ones to be humbled. The GBC itself, the "ultimate
managing authority," had seen its own authority collapse, only to be resurrected
by a "lower house" of temple presidents. Assuming extraordinary powers, the
temple presidents had made the GBC submit itself to the judgement of its own
appointed committee of 50 non-GBC godbrothers, thus in effect temporarily
suspending itself, something that only Prabhupada while alive could have done.
This action put the GBC and everyone in ISKCON on notice that no individual or
group was beyond scrutiny. Even "ultimate authorities" have limits. As Shinn
notes shortly after the momentous meetings of 1986 and 1987, "the impressive
fact for any careful observer of ISKCON’s history is that it has been able to
evolve in a very short time from a charismatic movement to a relatively stable
institution in the face of a hostile external environment and a volatile
governing structure within" (Shinn, 1987: 60).
The
Proxy-Initiation Heresy
While the
entire GBC and vast majority of ISKCON devotees are today united in support of
their gurus, the gurus’ credibility and even their legitimacy continues to be
debated by the very large community of marginalised devotees. As the GBC labours
to inherit Prabhupada’s managerial mantle, individual gurus struggle to bear the
weight of guruship. The founder’s authority as (1) administrative head and (2)
as initiator of new disciples must both be transferred for the routinisation of
his charisma to be complete. But the first may be easier than the second, for
the insufficiencies of managerial authority, especially when it functions
collegially as the GBC does, are more easily forgiven than the transgressions of
a guru who, by definition, is the via media to God. Scripture enjoins
that he be worshipped as "the supreme personality of servitor Godhead"
(Prabhupada1974: Adi-lila, 1.46 Purport), a vision difficult to maintain
in the wake of various guru scandals. ISKCON gurus may insist on the full faith
of their disciples even as Prabhupada did. But whereas Prabhupada could boldly
defend himself against his godbrothers’ criticism, present gurus cannot so
easily dismiss the criticism that arises if they fail to perfectly represent
Prabhupada and Krishna. Indeed, it is not entirely uncommon for disciples of the
ISKCON gurus to repose their faith primarily in Prabhupada, something quite
unthinkable with regard to Prabhupada’s disciples and Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati
Prabhupada once corrected his servant for "jumping over the spiritual master" to
pray directly to Bhaktisiddhanta (Goswami, T. K. 1984: 245). But now, new
converts are trained to first accept Prabhupada’s shelter exclusively for at
least six months before being advised to select that initiating guru who reminds
them most of Prabhupada. In fact, Prabhupada is more widely available now than
ever before (through audio, video, print and electronic reproduction). Thus, the
statement, "I see my Spiritual Master as Prabhupada’s associate and so for that
reason I also feel great attachment and respect for him" (Rochford, 1997),
coming from a new disciple, might not be considered unfaithful. And the
following, written by an aspiring initiate after learning that the guru of his
choice had recently renounced his duties, becomes entirely understandable:
After
building a relation with ‘X’ Maharaja on a guru/disciple relation and then
receiving the fax of the bad news, it really hits hard. Now I can see why
some devotees lose faith in ISKCON sannyasis. You have to realise
that Srila Prabhupada is our true guru and that his instructions are always
there for us to fall back on. After all, he is our acarya, our master. I owe
everything I have and everything I will have in Krishna consciousness to
Srila Prabhupada for saving me from this material world of repeated birth
and death.[xxi]
Such comments
are not rare. Yet, interestingly, these poignant remarks prefaced a request that
Tamal Krishna Goswami accept the aspirant as a disciple and award him initiation
in the future. They are not written by one who believes that initiation from a
present ISKCON guru is unimportant. Similar letters requesting re-initiation are
also received from initiates whose gurus have fallen. Both bear out what
scripture affirms: without the mercy of the spiritual master one cannot make
spiritual advancement.
But is this
really so? Is the devotion of the uninitiated fruitless? And having been
initiated, if one’s guru falls, is all one’s devotion worthless? And what is the
connection between the guru’s own level of advancement and the potential
advancement of his disciple? These questions, with only slight adjustments in
terminology, are at the heart of every founded religion. To cite but one
example, the Christian Church under Augustine’s guidance rejected as heretical
the Donatists’ assertion that the flawed character of a priest invalidated the
sacrament he administered. And, some eight hundred years later, Aquinas invoked
sacerdotalism to establish the via media of the priesthood. Nor are such
issues new to Gaudiya Vaishnavism, which emphasises the centrality of the guru’s
role in the salvation of the disciple with the same fervour it argues for the
existence of the Godhead. Although elevating the guru to a place beside the
Godhead, Gaudiya Vaishnava doctrine makes provisions in case he falls. In
centuries past, acaryas like Bhaktivinoda and Narahari Cakravarti gave
guidelines for rejecting a fallen guru and accepting re-initiation. Guru
scandals and controversies, it seems, have besmirched the hallowed sanctuary of
religion since long ago.
While it is
beyond our present purpose to delve into all the above questions, one particular
debate has engaged many both within and on the margins of ISKCON. Must a
devotee, not yet initiated, accept a living breathing guru if he or she is to
make full spiritual advancement? Responding to this question in the North
American Prabhupada Centennial Survey, a considerable majority (86%) of
full-time ISKCON members responded affirmatively, as compared with just over
half (52%) of those no longer active in ISKCON (Rochford, 1997). Those who
responded negatively were not questioning the need for a guru. Rather, they
probably had in mind the notion that Prabhupada can continue to initiate
disciples even after his demise. This view, known until recently as the
ritvik acarya theory[xxii]
claims that Prabhupada appointed ritviks (priests initiating on behalf of
Prabhupada) as proxies without intending that any of his disciples become
regular gurus. Adherents of this philosophy believe that Prabhupada was and
continues to be the only legitimate guru for ISKCON. According to the same
survey, nearly a quarter (23%) of ISKCON’s full-time members, and some of less
than half (45%) of those devotees no longer active in ISKCON agreed that
Prabhupada wanted those he named to continue as proxy-initiators after his
departure (Rochford, 1997). This is not an insignificant number when one
considers the extent of GBC efforts to refute and prescribe this view.
Considering
the enormous importance the tradition invests in the guru, it is no wonder the
issue has sparked such heated debate. The "appointment" conversations and
correspondence of Prabhupada in the year prior to his demise are sufficiently
elliptical to allow various interpretations. Guru improprieties that surfaced in
the 1980s were a confirmation for some that the gurus should be at best no more
than proxies. Prabhupada was the actual guru, they argued, and they presented
their interpretation of his statements as the warrants to prove their case. But
the GBC gave these statements an entirely different reading, one that was firmly
in keeping with the traditional understanding of the principle of disciplic
succession, a principle enunciated throughout Prabhupada’s teachings.
Proxy-initiation proponents established their own community, New Jaipur, in
Louisiana and published the Vedic Village Review to propagate their
philosophy. They have also conducted initiations in which new recruits are
deemed to be Prabhupada’s own disciples, although there have only been a few
such ceremonies. Ironically, the community and Review were both closed
due to the moral and legal transgressions of their organisers, survived only by
the proxy-initiation cause itself, which has since attracted new champions.
The GBC has
been far from silent on this issue. They devoted the entire first issue of the
ISKCON Journal—seventeen essays, interviews and testimonies in all—to
exposing the proxy-initiation fallacy. That same year (1990) the publisher and
editors of the Vedic Village Review were excommunicated for
continuing to actively promote their views despite repeated warnings. In 1995,
the GBC published the 51-page Gurus and Initiation in ISKCON, a
compilation of all the relevant ISKCON laws and official papers on the subject
(GBC 1995). Nor did that conclude the matter. Fresh legislation in 1996 states,
"Temple presidents, at their discretion, have the right to prohibit its
[proxy-initiation] advocates from participating in ISKCON functions or visiting
an ISKCON temple if their advocacy creates a disturbance."[xxiii]
Various ISKCON leaders have individually published papers against the
proxy-initiation philosophy. Some, like Jayadvaita Swami (Swami, J., 1996a),
have conceded that the proxy-initiation people are right on certain
non-philosophical points. But the proxy-initiation people are in no way
satisfied with such minor concessions. They remain stolid in their conviction
that the present ISKCON guru system is fundamentally flawed. Their most recent
outpouring, an 87-page position paper entitled "The Controversy Surrounding
Srila Prabhupada's Final Order on the Future of Initiations Within ISKCON," or
simply, "The Final Order," has prompted the GBC to issue its own response
entitled "Disciple of My Disciple" (see, dasa, B., et. al. 1997) along
with promises that they will fully document the history and theology of the guru
in ISKCON as a way of finally bringing the issue to rest. That, of course, is
doubtful, for as long as the gurus of ISKCON fail in the eyes of others to meet
the rigorous standards established by Srila Prabhupada, they will have to
continue to face their critics.[xxiv]
At the very
heart of this debate lies the succession issue: What is the best way to
routinise Prabhupada’s charisma? Both sides agree that Prabhupada must remain at
the centre of ISKCON, but disagree on how this may best be accomplished.
Jayadvaita Swami sympathises with the proxy-initiation proponents’ thoughts:
Srila
Prabhupada was staunch, unfailing, always perfect in his discretion and
determination. He was undisputedly an exalted and empowered acarya, a
pure and intimate personal associate of Krishna. Is it any wonder, then,
that some devotees feel that only Srila Prabhupada can give them shelter and
that no one else deserves the same surrender and trust? (Swami, J., 1996a)
Yet, surrender
and trust are the very currency of the guru-disciple exchange. This is not a
relationship of arbitrary acceptance, but a contract in which total submission
is offered in return for unalloyed devotion to God. At stake in this debate is
whether such a reward is attainable, even generations from now, by establishing
an exclusive relationship with Prabhupada, bypassing such a relation with his
disciples or heirs.
Proxy-initiation theorists insist that Prabhupada made a permanent arrangement
on 9, July 1977 when he approved this writer’s letter to all the temple
presidents which stated, "now that Srila Prabhupada has named these eleven
representatives, temple presidents may henceforward send recommendations
for first and second initiation to whichever of these eleven representatives are
nearest their temple."[xxv]
Making such a statement absolute renders it absurd, as Jayadvaita Swami has
vividly demonstrated (Swami, J., 1996b), and is opposed to Prabhupada’s
time-bound use of the word "henceforward" on numerous occasions.
Proxy-initiation theory supporters will lose their case if their argument rests
on haggling over the details of grammar and punctuation in the appointment
transcripts. Their strength is in emphasising the value of directly connecting
to Prabhupada’s purity. Otherwise, logic, reason, reliable testimony, and
scripture, when used to interpret the transcripts will rule against them.
But even the
"direct connection" argument will not necessarily win the proxy-initiation
case. Here is one counter argument: A guru who presents himself as a humble
and sincere disciple of Prabhupada (or, in future generations, of any future
guru in disciplic line) offers Prabhupada "directly" through his words and
actions. What better way to get Prabhupada’s association than by connecting
through one who is immersed in Prabhupada’s teachings and mission? The advantage
of being personally trained under the guidance of such a guru cannot be denied.
The process of receiving initiation formalises the student-teacher relationship
and offers the promise of God’s mercy through the agency of the disciplic
succession. As a via media, the present guru magnifies rather than
obscures a disciple’s vision of the previous gurus, offering them access
otherwise denied to those who try for it "directly."
The counter
argument continues: Prabhupada often stated that a guru’s success is to create
at least one pure disciple. Did Prabhupada fail so miserably that he could not
create even one pure devotee qualified to be a guru? Many of Prabhupada’s
disciples are "pure" in the sense that they have made his mission their life and
soul. Prabhupada’s charisma may be that of a maha-bhagavata, a topmost
devotee of the Lord. But if his disciples have only been able to individually
capture a small fraction of that charisma, it is stated in scripture that even
their madhyama-bhagavata (middle devotee) status is sufficient to qualify
them for performing initiations. Arguing that all of Prabhupada’s offspring are
spiritually impotent, incapable of continuing the line of succession, appears
more as a condemnation of the founder rather than a glorification of him.
And so the
arguments run. The debate continues, but the outcome appears already decided.
Though it is still not too late to rethink the future course of guru theology,
traditional antecedents and the reality of present day ISKCON make such a
redefinition highly unlikely. Yet, the proxy-initiation theorists will have left
their mark. If nothing more, even their most vigorous critics can thank them for
helping to recognise all devotees’ right to a real and direct relationship with
Prabhupada.
Heresies of Continuity
Religion
cannot exist independent of culture, and any attempt to transfer religious
truths to a culture alien to that in which they thrived must necessarily involve
either a reformulation of those truths or an attempt to recreate that original
culture in a new environment. In all four heresies of continuity, we see
attempts at both reformulation and re-creation. The "sannyasa-householder
controversy" deals with the recasting of traditional social relationships in the
context of mission. The "gopi-bhava" and "rasika-bhakti
controversies" are heresies of praxis; at stake are whether spiritual
disciplines should be esoteric or exoteric. The "origin of the soul heresy"
attempts to understand the founder’s view on this subject and his consistency
with previous members of the disciplic succession. In fact, all the heresies of
continuity concern the problems of preservation of tradition—whether during the
founder’s time (between his predecessors and himself) and during the time of his
disciples (between the founder and themselves). Though the tradition’s beliefs
are at the forefront of these issues, the question of authority is no less an
issue here than it was with the previous heresies, for arbiters must be there to
decide exactly how traditions are to continue.
The
Sannyasi-Householder Controversy
The system of
social/occupational relationships known as varnashrama is the glue that
kept Hindu society in place for thousands of years. Its corruption in the form
of brahminical elitism has led to its deterioration, culminating in the recent
victory of scheduled caste "untouchables" in India’s parliamentary elections.
Strange, it would seem that Prabhupada should have chosen to swim with the
current of castism, considering its history and its potential for creating
conflict.
Even a casual
reading of Hindu texts, however, reveals that varnashrama is the warp and
woof of the Hindu social fabric; traditionalists fear its absence will leave
society threadbare, to disintegrate. Prabhupada certainly held such a belief. As
early as 1968 he began to create a caste of brahmanas,[xxvi]
much to the chagrin of India’s caste-conscious, hereditary brahmanas who
bitterly complained that he was spoiling Vedic culture. But Prabhupada defended
his action with a battery of scriptural proof texts, proving caste was according
to one’s qualities and work, not birth (Prabhupada1986: 238–9). He accused his
priestly detractors of ignorance and selfishness, and blamed them for nearly
destroying an ideal social model. The theological basis for his argument was
simple: a Vaishnava—a devotee of God—is considered transcendental to all the
designations of varna and ashrama. Hence, a devotee is
automatically a brahmana. His guru had encountered similar opposition a
half century earlier, and Sri Caitanya had fought the identical battle when he
had given elevated positions in his movement to many of his lower birth
associates.
There were no
such opponents in twentieth century egalitarian America. The possibility of
upward socio/spiritual mobility was practically guaranteed by ISKCON’s
initiation system and nearly all devotees were awarded brahminical initiation a
year after their first initiation.[xxvii]
However, sannyasa, the renounced order, was far more restricted. Due to
the degree of renunciation, all the members of society including the brahmanas
respected a sannyasa. Here lay the potential for real conflict, for unlike
brahmanism, which in ISKCON was open to all, there were relatively few
sannyasis. While in India tension existed between the varnas, or
castes, the danger in ISKCON was the antagonism between the ashramas, the
Vedic social divisions based on the major life-cycle categories.
A controversy
pitting sannyasis against grihasthas (married householders)
erupted in 1975. A number of seasoned ISKCON sannyasis, including this
writer, returned to America after years of public preaching in India. But India
and America were not analogous preaching fields. In India, sannyasis
assisted by brahmacaris (celibate male students) traditionally managed
the temples, ministering to the laity, who in return supported them. No such
economic interdependence existed in ISKCON of the mid-seventies. Few devotees
had outside employment. Everyone—sannyasis, brahmacaris and grihasthas—simply
"depended upon Krishna," which practically meant raising funds through
literature distribution. Most temple presidents were grihasthas, assisted
by brahmacaris and brahmacaris (female celibate students), whose
principal engagement was financing the temples through the sale of ISKCON
literature.
The newly
arrived sannyasis, with tales of their missionary experiences in India,
were appealing to many of the temple brahmacaris, who were attracted by
their austerity, knowledge, and zealousness, as well as by the freedom offered
by the lifestyle of the itinerant preachers. Many brahmacaris abandoned
the temples. Within a year’s time, no less than ten sannyasi parties,
assisted by 200 brahmacaris, criss-crossed America. Temple presidents
felt the sannyasis’ visits were more for recruiting local brahmacari
residents to leave the temples than for uplifting and protecting the
spiritual standards.
The conflict
came to a head at the annual all-ISKCON festival in Mayapur, West Bengal, in
March of 1976. The sannyasi-dominated GBC body,[xxviii]
under the chairmanship of this writer, passed a number of controversial
resolutions:
Husbandless women with children could not live in an ISKCON temple. Husband
and wife could not live in ISKCON temples, even if separately. Before
entering marriage, devotees should have a means of supporting themselves and
not expect to ‘live off’ ISKCON. Upon getting married a householder would be
financially responsible for his wife until such time as he took sannyasa.
(Goswami, S. 1983: Vol. VI: 168)
These
resolutions reveal a deeply negative view of sexuality and of women that was
particularly prevalent in the early years of ISKCON. This attitude is not
without scriptural basis, for attachments of any sort (especially to the
opposite sex), when not overcome, are believed to cause the soul to be reborn.
The illusory material potency Maya, the consort of the male god Shiva, is
portrayed as a prison-house keeper, and those who share her gender are
considered to be her representatives. This schema sees women as the cause of
bondage and their birth as misfortune. However, it is not an accurate reflection
of scriptural conclusion, as has been explained elsewhere:
The proper
[scriptural] understanding reveals that any unfair sexual bias implied by
the Maya narrative is due to a philosophical misunderstanding. For
the feminine gender is generic to all souls including those who are
masculine embodied. All souls are categorised as energy (read female) and
God as the supreme energetic (read male). When this philosophy is properly
understood, all souls irrespective of their sexual bodily encoding will
relate with each other harmoniously. (Goswami, T. K. 1996: 100)
Unfortunately,
events in ISKCON have often demonstrated what an enormous gap separates
philosophical ideals from their historical reality. The sannyasis of
ISKCON, this writer as much as any others, viewed women as maya, to be
avoided whenever possible. We shared our "wisdom" with the brahmacaris:
"A woman is like fire, a man like butter. If the butter is not kept at a safe
distance, it will melt." Those brahmacaris who melted were "fallen," and
were to be married. Due to their intimate association with women, they too were
also representatives of Maya, and henceforward, their association was
also to be avoided.
The
resolutions passed by the predominantly sannyasi GBC body attempted to
selectively legislate certain aspects of India’s long-standing social system.
That they were ill suited to America and particularly to the prevailing
conditions within ISKCON was clear from Prabhupada’s response as he sought to
prevent further escalation of the controversy. He disapproved of preventing
single mothers with children from living in the temple: "I cannot
discriminate—man, woman, child, rich, poor, educated, or foolish. Let them all
come, and let them take Krishna consciousness, so that they will not waste their
human life" (Goswami, S. 1983: Vol. VI: 168).
When the North
American grihastha temple presidents arrived, the discriminatory
legislation and its potential to split ISKCON alarmed them. During his morning
walks, Prabhupada sought to mediate, suggesting that the grihasthas form
a small committee to define how they should live. One of the leading
sannyasis argued that the problem was that grihasthas had a
propensity for enjoyment that undermined the austere temple atmosphere. Their
association was thus unfavourable for both brahmacaris and sannyasis.
"Fanaticism!"
was Prabhupada’s response.
We should
always remember that either grihastha, brahmacari or sannyasa,
nobody can strictly follow all the rules and regulations. In the Kali-yuga it is
not possible. If I simply find fault with you, and if you find fault with me,
then it will be factional, and our real business will be hampered. Therefore,
Caitanya Mahaprabhu has recommended that Hari nama, chanting Hare Krishna
mantra, should be very rigidly performed, which is common for everyone—grihastha,
vranaprastha (the retired order), and sannyasa. They should always
chant Hare Krishna mantra, then everything will be adjusted. Otherwise,
it is impossible to advance. (Goswami, S. 1983: Vol. VI: 172)
Although
Prabhupada appreciated the service of his leading sannyasis and their men
which amounted to more than 50% of the distribution of his publications
worldwide, he was clearly displeased with their sectarian views. It was
inappropriate for them to constantly dwell on the grihasthas’ affairs. He
told a story of two brahmanas who were about to cross a river when a lady
approached them for help in crossing. One of the brahmanas took her on
his back and assisted her across. After she had departed the two brahmanas
continued their journey, but the other brahmana continuously criticised
his associate for allowing a woman to touch his body. At last his friend had had
enough: "I carried her on my back for ten minutes, but you have been carrying
her on your mind for three hours!"[xxix]
The
misunderstanding did not abate; the polarisation so surcharged the festival
atmosphere Prabhupada was unable to rest. Finally, he decided to call a meeting
of the contesting parties. He heard attentively a neutral brahmacari’s
conclusion: the real issue was men and money. By encouraging the brahmacaris
not to cooperate with grihasthas, the sannyasis were luring them
away from the temples to travel and preach, which not only created a financial
strain on the temples, but also left many important services unattended.
Prabhupada heard the stories from all sides, then gave his conclusive opinion.
Discriminating between grihastha and sannyasa was wrong.
Everyone should be judged by his advancement in Krishna consciousness. "Whether
one is a brahmana, a sannyasi or a sudra—regardless of what
he is—he can become a spiritual master if he knows the science of Krishna"
(Prabhupada1975: 162).[xxx]
Party politics would finish everything. There was no particular service for a
grihastha, another for a sannyasi. All were servants of Krishna and
should do the needful. Anyone can preach and anyone can serve in the temple. It
was all right for a brahmacari to want to travel with a sannyasi,
but if he had a responsible temple service, he must not leave. Ashramas
do not determine the quality of a devotee. The GBC was asked to strike out the
biased resolutions. The temple presidents felt vindicated.
In fact, it
was actually a victory for all. As their spiritual master, Prabhupada was
emphasising the theological principle of the transcendental equality of all
ashramas: the ashramas might define one’s temporal situation, but
one’s eternal identity was primary. Service to Krishna was the basis for mutual
cooperation between all sectors of society.[xxxi]
The
Gopi-bhava Club Heresy
While negative
views of mundane sexuality thread their way through much of the scripture, the
same literature—paradoxically, some would say—reverences conjugal love as the
highest devotion to God. That ISKCON faced a heresy involving gopi-bhava
(the loving mood of the gopis) is not surprising, nor was it the first
time the Gaudiya line had to resolve such a contentious issue. The culmination
of Vaishnava religious practice is the attainment of flawless love for the
Deity. For Gaudiya Vaishnavas, the love of the gopis, Krishna’s cowherd
lovers, is considered most consummate. But ever since Shi Caitanya established
the primacy of parakiya-bava (love out of wedlock), there has been no
dearth of questions involving morality and practice. Perhaps no other tradition
explores in such vivid detail the possibilities of the conjugal relationship
between the devotee and the Godhead. Considering the extensive textual tradition
devoted to this subject, the reserve most practitioners display for such topics
is impressive. The texts warn that highly advanced devotees can only understand
Krishna’s conjugal pastimes; premature attempts to enter such esoteric topics
will end in mundane lust—the opposite of spiritual love. Most advanced devotees
are understandably cautious, considering themselves unqualified. It is neither
practical nor theologically correct to expect everyone to be able to rise to the
exalted level of the gopis’ love. Other relationships with
Krishna—parental, fraternal, and servile love—are equally desirable. In fact,
each soul is said constitutionally to have an eternal relationship with the
Godhead, and realisation of that relationship is more a matter of acceptance
than selection. In any case, attainment of perfect love is gradual, and
it can be arduous.
In his
discourse, Prabhupada usually spoke of bhakti generically. Yet he did not
hesitate to translate Rupa Goswami’s Bhakti-rasamrita-sindhu, a work
entirely devoted to analysing devotional relationships. His seventeen-volume
translation of Krishnadasa Kaviraja’s Sri Caitanya-caritamrita highlights
many intimate pastimes in which Caitanya and his companions became absorbed in
and identified with the conjugal mood of Radha and her companions. However,
Prabhupada repeatedly warned his audiences not to compare these wholly
transcendental descriptions with their seemingly mundane equivalents.
In spite of
this, a group of his disciples—perhaps twenty-five women and an equal number of
men—began meeting surreptitiously to read the portions of
Caitanya-caritamrita that describe Radha and Krishna’s intimate pastimes.
News of the "Gopi-bhava Club" reached Prabhupada during his visit to Los
Angeles in June of 1976. Calling the available GBC members and sannyasis,
Prabhupada ordered an investigation. He expressed grave concern that such
meetings, if allowed to go unchecked, would lead to illicit activities, thus
thwarting the preaching mission.
The club
leaders appeared before Prabhupada explaining that they were not trying to
imitate Radha and Krishna’s love affairs but simply studying the descriptions in
order to develop such desires. Prabhupada’s lips quivered with anger: "First
deserve, then desire! . . . So long as there is any pinch of material desire
there is no question of desiring on the spiritual platform!" (dasa, H. 1992:
Vol. II: 268)
When another
of their leaders asked what harm there could be if they restricted their
readings to Prabhupada’s books, Prabhupada quickly refuted his argument: Many
medicines may be available in a drug store but that does not mean one can |
