The Preacher

On this Christmas Day, I feel compelled to put these words here. Last year, I began reflecting on varnasrama-dharma and sharing my thoughts with the devotees. Yet, I received no feedback, and no likes. For decades, I have written and spoken as though addressing walls—and, of course, my dear wife. Still, driven by an irresistible force, I continue to "preach," as Srila Prabhupada encouraged us to do, having often found himself in a similar position.

I firmly believe that without understanding and striving for varnasrama-dharma, a civilized society cannot endure. Prabhupada was absolutely right: not everyone can be a philosopher, as Western intellectuals mistakenly assume. They perpetuate the utopian illusion that a classless society is viable. Yet, the truth is stark—those born with the qualities of a sudra cannot simply acquire the nature of a brahmana. And in this age of Kali, we are all born as sudras. That's a challenge for a preacher to bring light on these difficult questions.*

Sadly, just before the end of 2024, I realized that many devotees do not like preachers. And they brag about it openly. They think they are fanatics. A preacher like myself receives no likes when he shares his views. Devotees do not invite him for prasadam at their home. He has very few friends, and they are karmis. These are signs I have difficulties reading through in my attempts to reconcile myself with the vaishnava sects, in their manners and ideas. ●

If we cannot see the evil eating away at our society, perhaps we need glasses. There’s nothing wrong with that.

Most people—devotees or otherwise—are only superficially interested in the deeper aspects of life, regardless of what they may claim. Philosophically minded individuals, those with culture and erudition who are willing to dedicate themselves wholeheartedly to making the world a better place, are becoming increasingly rare. Such idealists often choose silence or other paths, unlike Srila Prabhupada who traveled the world, unafraid to speak his mind and calling a spade a spade.

He who dares to criticize becomes a man of his own, and soon an association to be avoided.

And so, we found ourselves weak, disavowed by our own godbrothers and the broader community. The movement was losing more and more of its members—those who had once sacrificed their lives for it. What could be done? It seemed incapable of escaping the very pattern that Srila Prabhupada had so strongly criticized when he distanced himself from his own godbrothers, the disciples of Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati Maharaj. ●

“I’m going to be more decisive! Some of you do not respect the caring and sharing nature of this forum! One of my pet annoyances is to see devotees talk down at each other. It’s going on here and I’m going to say goodbye!” --Kesava Krsna Dasa.

Once again, it went wrong on one of the vaishnava forums with many ex ISKCON devotees, as myself. They don’t like the way you talk. Devotees or karmis—it’s exactly the same. That said, I would argue that karmis tend to have more experience in social or political matters, which might make them more tolerant and inclined toward free speech. But even that is becoming less evident. Across the world, free speech is increasingly restricted.

Since I’m new in town—and in the country—I’ve attended a few gatherings where people like to discuss philosophy. The first thing I noticed was how little they seem to know and care about the history of philosophy or the philosophy of history. Most of them are deeply conservative, though they like to present themselves as belonging to progressive trends. 

Recently, I attended a meeting where the topic was Artificial Intelligence. Coincidentally, just a few days earlier, I had a discussion with an ex-devotee who had called me to talk about the same subject. We had a long debate in which I tried to steer him toward a more cautious attitude.

In this gathering of “intellectuals,” whom I had never met before, I shared my opinions on the matter. Needless to say, as I spoke about the potential side effects of this new technology, I could sense their discomfort with my ideas. At one point, to illustrate the risks of Artificial Intelligence when manipulated by authorities, I referenced the techniques used during the Covid crisis. That seemed to upset them greatly.

Their reactions were so strong that I decided to leave the group, much to their surprise. When they asked why I was walking away instead of continuing the dialogue, I told them it was no longer a dialogue—it had turned emotional rather than rational. And with that, I left. ●

What went wrong? It is a pattern, like if Humanity was herded by an instinct* of destruction. They don't listen to each other and don't want to delve deeper into issues. Often, they just complain about how others don't validate their feelings or how they were taken advantage of when they were younger. But they're not interested in hearing another perspective. They think they know what is wrong, and when someone wants to tell them about his experience that undermines their way of thinking, they accuse him of shooting the ambulance.

Kesava suggested discussing devotees' pets. The exchanges mainly focused on dogs and cats attractiveness versus the brahmins' caste of ISKCON and the preachers. The reading of the reactions from his followers bring to mind the saying: "More people drown in glasses than in all the rivers." It perfectly captures our tendency to turn minor issues into insurmountable ones.

First and foremost, devotees trained in Krishna consciousness by Srila Prabhupada strive to embody the spirit of para-dukha-dukhi (feeling the suffering of others as their own). For Prabhupada, this was a fundamental principle of love; bhakti is its essence, with the Srimad-Bhagavatam as its cornerstone. The very first lesson I learned on the path of bhakti-yoga was to stop hating or harming animals. This led me to become a vegetarian long before I joined the movement, as a reflection of compassion and nonviolence toward all living beings.

After that, I exchanged my hippie ideals for brahmanical ones. Every potential disciple of Srila Prabhupada was encouraged to cultivate the qualities of a brahmana. 

* _____________________The concept of "instinct" now guides my thoughts as I write this, my fingers moving across the keypad to share my conviction: it is wrong to assume that humans have instincts in the same way animals do. This idea was part of a conversation I tried to have with Kesava Krsna Dasa, and it ultimately inspired me to write this text, titled "The Preacher." ●

Mari Verocai: "I don’t care, I lived in a temple for 5 years with 3 dogs. I had a little ashram out of the main building. I was doing pujari and cow protection. At one point I became the vice presidente. I was a non married woman, and the very first one in this position. At this point, they used the dogs as an excuse for my (sic) the fact they didn’t want me as an authority. So I hat to quit the position. I never quit my dogs."

Varnasrama-dharma was, in humanity's early history, a Vedic science that enabled society to develop into the most organized civilization, with the Gods as their guides. Within this social and political order, the primary boundary—like an isthmus between good and evil—was cleanliness. Unlike the shudra, the brahmana elevated cleanliness to the level of a scientific discipline.

In the cultural current I belonged to before joining the Krishna Consciousness, the hippie movement discarded such concerns, whether essential, like purity, or practical, like cleanliness. I found my experience with the devotees in line with my feelings: the family I had left behind had instilled in me notions of cleanliness and purity so deeply they felt almost biological. As for animals, my mother was adamant: as long as we lived in an apartment, there would be neither dog nor cat in the house.

“In some cases, writes Kesava, “it takes courage for devotees to be open about their lifestyle choices. But some self-righteous ‘preachers’ are unable to appreciate it. They don’t get it!”

I can’t help but feel his finger is pointing at me. His instinct seems to want to block me from speaking my mind on what he refers to as “the suchi and muchi aspect”; it is the residue of an archaic culture that is viewed with great suspicion and even disgust by Westerners alike.

My situation is quite different, as I've mentioned. Take the issue of cleanliness, for instance. It's something I've pondered a lot. This shows that while there are those who are very liberal about cleanliness and purity, there are also those who are more traditional. There is a personal account to come where Bhagavan, the former guru, is under scrutiny, the challenge is to find a middle ground between the enthusiasm for sankirtana and the need to protect the sacred space for the Deities.

Before I turn to the article, that needs to be edited before publishing, let me insiste on the lack of intellectual depth devotees have shown on that subject of cats and dogs (or any other). No one seems interested in addressing the real issue or explaining why it persists. Among Krishna’s devotees, there is no forum, radio, or platform where various aspects of life are discussed openly, offering a devotee’s perspective to readers or listeners.

Meanwhile, wars rage across the globe, claiming hundreds of thousands of lives each month and leaving infrastructures in ruins. Yet, you rarely hear devotees trying to shed light on these tragedies for others, be they devotees or non-devotees. They seem completely disconnected from the world’s affairs! And at the same time, they claim that Krishna, in their hearts and through the guidance of the spiritual master, particularly Srila Prabhupada, is directing them: just as Krishna guided Arjuna during the great war of the Mahabharata, telling him about "geopolitics." That’s exactly where the Bhagavad-gita begins. 

Walou! Nada! Their primary focus is on the soul, and they position themselves as doctors of the soul. That is all they believe they need to do. “All the rest is merely literature,” to borrow the famous line of Gustave Flaubert.

Once, at the temple of Lesueur street in Paris, I asked Bhagavan about this disturbing practice; not caring for "first things first". I took the help of Jayantakrit,* who spoke fluent English, to translate my desiderata. To make the story short, I argue that Radha and Parisiswara did not deserve such a passable service. We were working hard to make new devotees and training them to serve the Deities up to the standard, which was quite high and demanding. But once the new devotees were doing well, they were sent to traveling sankirtana. The result was that the temple was always unclean and the service to the Deities uncertain. 

(Somehow or other, I was in charge of running the temple, since no temple president was available. Finally, after a few weeks of vacation, they turned to Bhartri Hari, a Canadian serving in publishing at New Mayapur. I received him, since I had to resume the situation for him. This marked a considerable shift, as previously, American devotees were temple presidents, having more experience in management.)

I know that my plea was right; everyone could see that the walls of the main prasadam rooms were marked by the dirty fingers of the numerous guests who used to come for the Sunday Feast, or the rest of the week. We always had guests. Devotees were also taking the prasadam in these rooms, and they often slept there for the night when the upper rooms were too crowded. In those days, there were no beds of any kind. I don't remember Bhagavan having one. 

He did not seem annoyed by my audacity. Neither was he much concerned by my plea for a clean temple and adequate brahmanas taking care of the Deities. He ended the meeting by emphasizing that sankirtana was the yuga dharma and it was pleasing to Srila Prabhupada. So many years later, when I think of all that, I realize how passionate the adventure was and had only short term goals. There was no genuine interest or serious planning to build a community where future generations could live in peace, benefiting from the groundwork we had laid. That way of thinking and acting was, as I will discover later on while traveling all over North America, the standard in ISKCON. It was superficial. —And relations between devotees are superficial. Their desire to understand God is superficial. The discussions on important issues are superficial. Their concept of science is superficial. Their will for a vaishnava philosophy is superficial. Bhagavan did not care about my desires for a clean and respected brahmanical temple in Paris, but he listened to me.

* _________________________Jayantakrit took sannyasa from someone in the Gaudiya Math: Narayan Maharaj, I believe, or perhaps Gour Govinda Swami. He was a nice and enthusiastic devotee. His close friend was Bhutakrit from Spain. Both of them were intellectuals, the kind I deeply appreciated during those days. The last time I saw him was in New Mayapur a few years ago, during the Covid crisis. He left me with a peculiar impression, as if he didn’t recognize me. After 40 years of absence from New Mayapur, I had the bizarre feeling of being a stranger in what once felt like my own home. ●

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