Why Not Krishna?

After repeated visits to New Vrindaban (and despite learning some disturbing tales about the community) I was compelled to find out more about Hinduism. There are a lot of ideas in Vedic philosophy that either appeal to me personally, or make a lot of sense regardless of the way I feel about them. Even though I am an avowed meat eater, I can see the wisdom in eschewing the flesh of animals and focusing a diet on the nutrients of vegetables. After a long discussion with N.V. chief agriculturalist Tapahpunja, I came away resolved to limit my intake of beef. While the eating habits of Krishnas may initially seem unappetizing (no meat, caffeine, alcohol, onions, garlic, mushrooms, etc.), there is no doubt that following their restrictions would lead to an extremely healthy lifestyle.

The Hindu concept of offering every action up to God is intriguing, if very demanding. In contrast, many Western religions seem to ask little of adherents. Hinduism requires a constant awareness of the quality of one's actions, no matter how routine. It is a highly structured religion with rigid strictures for everyday living. The belief that Krishna is physically present on our lips when we chant His name sounds foreign until one considers the Eucharist in Christianity. It's easy to critique other religions from a perspective confined by the blinders of one's faith. Only by stepping back from one's own position can a measure of objectivity be attained. If the practices of devotees at New Vrindaban seem "weird", it is mostly because of the spiritual homogeneity throughout the United States . Additionally, most citizens are conditioned to subjugate their religious identity in order to fully enter consumerist society.

In this nation, materialism is elevated to a holy pursuit. It's not difficult to understand why so many within the counterculture turned to Eastern philosophies and religions in the 60's and early 70's. Those years constituted a short concentrated era in which people questioned the assumptions that they had been conditioned to accept without reflection. I don't think the Krishna Consciousness Movement could have arrived in the West during a more auspicious time. It capitalized on the general disillusion that people had with modern capitalism and traditional authority. No doubt many of those who found themselves at New Vrindaban were bringing personal instabilities along with them. But at the same time, I'm certain that there were plenty of folks who were genuine in their search to embrace something deeper and more meaningful than conventional society had offered them.

According to Hinduism, the stakes are high. We are trapped in a cycle of material existence, whereby we accumulate "karma"for all the suffering we cause in our lives. This baggage is carried over when we are reincarnated into subsequent lives. If we don't surrender to Krishna and devote our efforts to Him, we will never transcend to the Godhead. For many rationalists, this is a major stumbling block. Personally I think this formulation is poetic and resonant. In some strange way, it mirrors my understanding of evolution itself. According to this world view, spiritual progression leads to salvation. This is what Krishnas mean when they suggest that you can "Stay High All the Time". If nothing else, this admonition demonstrated an adept approach to marketing during the Hippie Era.

There are a few principles in Krishna Consciousness that simply prohibit me from embracing it wholesale. The main precept that I have difficulty with is the characterization of the divine as "essentialist". The attribution of definite and absolute qualities to the Godhead seems extraordinarily limited to me. I've never been able to accept the personification of God. The consequences of this belief lead to (at least) two troubling aspects in Hinduism. One I've mentioned in a recent post- it creates a master-disciple relationship that is ripe for exploitation. In this setup, the guru is to be followed as an infallible representative of God. I simply don't believe that is possible. Secondly, Krishna is irrefutably male and thus Hindus accept a hierarchy in which women are absolutely subjugated to men. This is irreconcilable with my perspective, and prohibits me from considering Krishna Consciousness (or Hinduism) a viable option.

Hubner and Gruson, "Monkey on a Stick" (1988)

I've written on a few occasions about the Hare Krishna farm community in the northern panhandle of West Virginia. I have visited New Vrindaban four times. It is an impressive retreat located in the wild hills near Moundsville. Its central focus is Prabhupada's Palace of Gold, a grand edifice built to honor the founder and spiritual master of the Krishna Consciousness Movement. The place has a storied history, and has weathered a lot of controversy over the years. I learned a lot about its development by watching a documentary called Holy Cow Swami- a documentary film made by West Virginian filmmaker Jacob Young. I thought that Young's examination and portrayal of New Vrindaban was fairly balanced, and that his appreciation for his subject was sincere.

Still there are plenty of crazy and dark tales to tell about both New Vrindaban and the Krishna movement throughout the West. During further research on these topics I became aware of a book by John Hubner and Lindsry Gruson entitled Monkey on a Stick. It was written in the midst of the media frenzy that followed the trials of Kirtanananda Swami Bhaktipada (Keith Ham), and the shocking tales being told by disgruntled devotees and fringies* across America and beyond. People had viewed the Movement with suspicion ever since the New York Times covered the activities of the very first temple in Manhattan in the mid-60's. Despite this nation's professed respect for freedom of religion- if you are not a conventional Christian, a lot of folks will view you with distrust and confusion. Certainly some of the harsh criticism leveled against the Krishnas in the 80's was a result of such attitudes.

But if you dig a little deeper, you can find plenty of salacious details originating from within the Movement itself. Hubner and Gruson did a thorough job of cataloging the negative perspectives of both current and ex-devotees, along with those of independent observers, law enforcement figures, and peripheral adherents. Before reading Monkey on a Stick, I could have outlined a basic overview of some of the difficulties that New Vrindaban has faced over the years, but I was missing a lot of the background details that would explain some of the complexities involved in the community. This book filled in the gaps. Even more helpfully, the authors put the local problems in a wider frame by examining the conflict between the Governing Body Council of ISKCON (that was supposed to manage the Movement) and the initiating gurus who viewed themselves as individual succesers to Prabhupada himself.

Kirtanananda wasn't the only swami who ran afoul of the law after Prabhupada's death. A California-based guru named Hansadutta (Hans Kary) collected an arsenal of weapons near San Francisco to confront what he thought would be a massive invasion of Karmis**. He fortified himself with illicit drugs and sex with his female devotees. Jayatirtha (James Immel, the London guru ) used LSD to connect with Krishna, and decided to likewise avail himself of the flesh of his disciples. He was later killed and beheaded by his most ardent follower, who had decided he was a modern-day Rasputin. Bhagavan (William Ehrlichman) ruled over multiple European temples with an imperious approach. He had an overwhelming weakness for luxury that earned him the nickname "The Sun King". He lived a lavish life in a mansion and drank out of a $10,000 goblet made from pure gold.

Ultimately Monkey on a Stick makes a pretty convincing case that the downfall of the International Society for Krishna Consciousness followed quickly upon Prabhupada's passing in 1977. He gave instructions from his deathbed for succession. He designated 11 of his disciples rittvik representatives, and gave them the power to act as his deputies in initiating future devotees. Unfortunately the chosen ones viewed themselves as divine acharyas- or as the infallible representatives of God on Earth. They became trapped in Maya (the sensory world of the ego) and misused their perceived authority to further their insatiable desires for power. The danger of a religion based upon a master-devotee relationship is that it is particularly vulnerable to exploitation. Luckily for Krishna Consciousness there have been 'reformers' in the Movement like Ravindra Svurupa (William Deadwyler, Philadelphia) and Bahudaka (Peter Chatterton, Vancouver) who have arisen to keep ISKCON 'Honest'.

*"Fringies" are those that generally follow the teachings, philosophy and faith-based beliefs of Prabhupada and Krishna Consciousness, but do not adhere rigidly to the strictures of devotees.

** "Karmies" are the meat-eating heathens who have yet to embrace Krishna Consciousness. They are doomed to a cycle of reincarnation on the "material platform" until they surrender fully to God and work off their accumulated karma.

My Return to New Vrindaban.

Watching Holy Cow Swami last week made me want to take another trip to New Vrindaban. I thought about a few people that might enjoy such a trip, and put out some invitations. M. definitely wanted to go (she had never been there), and my friend Mike desired a return visit. He had accompanied me during my visit of three years ago, when we met Tapahpunja Dasa - who gave us a very informative tour of the organic community garden. Our whole group was impressed by this elder devotee's knowledge base, commitment and worldview. When I saw the younger version of Tapahpunja interviewed by Jacob Young for the documentary, I felt inspired to return to see how things were going with the community. I showed Mike Holy Cow Swami, and we had a lot of quality conversation about the way events were portrayed and about faith and religion in general. We could have stayed up talking far into the night, but we wanted to have some energy for our day trip.

Our intention was to leave at 9AM, but Mike convinced me to let him check the oil in my car- which turned out to be a good thing since I desperately needed an oil change. This gave us the opportunity to stop at an Aspinwall coffeehouse and build up more anticipation with talk about what we were going to see. The 70-mile drive was as pleasant as I remembered. Although it was overcast on the way there, it was all sun-and-blue-skies by the time we got to Moundsville and grabbed lunch. We chose a little coffee shop with down-home cookin' (dare I say that I ate a Sloppy Joe?) and few vegetarian options for M. Then we were on our way through the wooded hills on winding back-roads, and the next thing we knew we were greeted with the bright sunlight reflected off of the top of the Palace of Gold.

M. wanted to take the tour, and I'm afraid I couldn't stop myself from badgering the guide with all kinds of questions about the state of the community, and about Prabhupada's life before coming to America. I think he was unsure about where I was coming from, and was a bit guarded about answering. Then again I would assume that tour guides are given a canned speech and encouraged to stick to it. They mostly want to keep it light and general, and include lots of little details about all the fine materials that were used during the original construction of the palace. This was all basic stuff that I had heard previously. I wanted more information. I tried to assure him that I meant well, and by the end I thought that he believed in my sincerity. He told me to take a copy of the Bhagavad Gita when he discovered that I didn't own a copy.

After that M. and I walked around the grounds. I spent some time taking photos with my new camera. It was getting very hot. I thought I'd take M. down to the "Temple of Understanding". To my dismay, it was dark and all the deities were covered. After being told that they would be unveiled in an hour or so, we decided to take a walk by the pond, aviary and guest cottages. For the first time, I noticed Hayagriva's (Howard Wheeler) monument. It is a boxlike container structure, and I wondered if his remains were inside. Mike and I decided to walk up a road between the cottages, and lo and behold we met up with Tapahpunja, who was making his way down from the farm in a car. I asked him if he would give us another tour of the gardens, and he was most agreeable. We all gathered under the pavilion.

I had meant to hear about some of the plants being grown there, but we got sidetracked quickly. I asked Tapahpunja if he had seen Jacob Young's film, but he replied that he hadn't. He did remember getting interviewed for it. I wanted to hear details about Prabhupada's life and the early years of New Vrindaban. I also wanted to know his thoughts on what it means to have a "spiritual master". As he had been a few years ago, Tapahpunja Dasa was gracious and forthcoming. He explained what it meant to be God-brothers with Kirtanananda Bhaktipada, and gave us an idea about what the man was like before the troubles of the 1980's. But he also pointed out that he had been initiated by Prabhupada, and considered him his spiritual master. After a bit our little party was thirsty, and T. sent me for some water and cups from a guest house. We realized what that meant since he had explained that the community was experiencing a shortage of water. We continued to talk, and then Tapahpunja invited us to have some dinner.

We gathered around the table for food and more great conversation. Tapahpunja has a wealth of wisdom about the nature of the food we eat, corporate monoculture, and farming. He is also politically savvy and has compelling recommendations of books and documentaries to enlighten those who choose to seek more knowledge. But what I am most impressed by is that Tapahpunja has an extraordinary facility for relating a practical lifestyle to his spiritual beliefs. It was easy to sit quietly and listen, but we also took our turns talking and asking more questions. I am always pleasantly taken aback by the generosity of Krishna and his followers. Annadanum is the practice of sharing food with others, and to many it is a sacred duty. But we felt privileged to receive pasta, salad and a tasty stew from Tapahpunja. We were equally blessed to be joined by his wife.

Inevitably the day grows long and it is time for us to leave New Vrindaban. As I expected we had plenty to think about on the drive home. One of the things that hit home with me was an impassioned claim that Tapapunjah made concerning the human condition. He said that the slaughter of human animals is effecting our karma as individuals, and collectively. The resulting baggage is the reason we are faced with pestilence, war, climate destruction and conflict. Although I'm not a Hindu, I feel that this belief deserves sufficient consideration. A meat-eater like me has to take that to heart. For both "god" and the Earth's sake, perhaps I can at least give up eating the meat of a cow?

Jacob Young, "Holy Cow Swami" (1996).

One of the pleasant surprises of Jacob Young's visit to Film Kitchen last week was the existence on DVD of several of his works that I had been wanting to see for a long time. A couple of years ago I had actually planned to drive down into West Virginia to buy several VHS tapes straight from the director himself. Probably the most intriguing film I had heard about was an almost 3-hour long documentary about Kirtanananda Swami Bhaktipada (a.k.a. Keith Ham), the founder and spiritual head of the Hare Krishna community at New Vrindaban, near Moundsville, WV.

As I wrote in a blog post last summer, I have visited New Vrindaban several times- both while Bhaktipada was going through the worst of his legal difficulties (around 1992), and during the past five years. During my initial visit I wasn't even aware of the problems the community was then facing. Later I heard stories of the Swami getting charged and imprisoned for multiple criminal acts. I never did get the full story though, and that is why I was so anxious to see Jacob Young's Holy Cow Swami. So a couple of days ago, my sparkling new copy arrived directly from Young's distributor, and I watched it earlier this evening.

The film starts with the introduction of ISKCON-founder A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada, who came to New York City as an Indian immigrant with $6 in his pocket. He set up a storefront mission on the Lower East Side and began sharing his faith and spiritual knowledge with all the young people then inhabiting that environment. It was at that time that Keith Ham approached Prabhupada, and became his first devotee. While his master traveled to California (and internationally) to spread his message, Ham and his lover Howard Wheeler set out to build a Krishna Community on a 100-acre farm in the wilderness of West Virginia.

As time passed, Prabhupada built temples all over the world. By the time of his death in 1977, New Vrindaban had grown to hundreds of acres, and had hundreds of devotees. Keith Ham had become Kirtanananda Swami Bhaktipada- the head of the community, and one of twelve internationally-recognized spiritual successors to Prabhupada. The mid-80's marked the peak of New Vrindaban's development, and almost 800 inhabitants had built up a thriving center of worship. Almost 500,000 tourists annually were making pilgrimages to the holy site. A grand "Palace of Gold" had been built to honor Prabhupada. Meanwhile the surrounding community in Marshall County looked on warily. Rumors began to spread that things weren't altogether above board at New Vrindaban.

Part of the controversy was the method that Krishnas were using to raise money. They would approach groups of people at sporting events, and issue "citations" for "having too much fun". This was their pitch to get people to contribute to the charities that the fundraisers said they represented- including Jerry's Kid's, Appalachian Orphanages, and (hilariously) NORML. But in point of fact, that money was landing directly in the pockets of Bhaktipada, to spend as he saw fit. At the same time other schemes involved the copyright infringement of professional sports team logos on pirated gear that Krishnas were selling.

But this wasn't the worst of it. When one disgruntled ex-devotee was gunned down in California, and another was executed at New Vrindaban itself, the authorities moved on the Swami. They charged him with conspiracy to murder, fraud, kidnapping and racketeering. Amidst all these charges ran a constant stream of allegations regarding child molestation that Bhaktipada was said to be personally involved in. For years the community rallied behind their beloved guru, even as he was convicted and put on house arrest pending appeal. But as more bodies began to surface on temple lands, a mass defection started. When Bhaktipada was released due to a successful appeal for a new trial, his return to New Vrindaban was celebrated by his remaining followers.

However, the celebration was short-lived. The last straw occurred when Bhaktivada's loyal disciples bought him a Winnebago to travel to a world religious conference. On the way, the Swami stopped to pick up a Malaysian youth from an airport. The Winnebago's driver witnessed Bhaktipada engaged in hanky-panky with the boy in the vehicle's on-board bed. Word soon passed between the adherents at New Vrindaban, and a group of elder devotees met with their guru and expelled him from the community for good. The permanently disgraced Keith Ham ultimately pled guilty and went to serve his time in prison.

Jacob Young justifiably considers Holy Cow Swami to be his magnum opus. The film runs almost three complete hours, and its production values are the best I've seen in any of Young's documentary works. Its length virtually prohibits any chance of widespread distribution. But Young has no intention of trimming it down. Indeed he says he can't imagine cutting any footage- material for which he risked his very life. The story itself is fascinating, with lovely photography and plenty of illuminating interviews with all of the major players- including lengthy segments with Bhaktipada. It's clear that Young presumed the innocence of the Swami throughout much of the film. For that reason, the viewer is often left undecided about the true nature of the events at New Vrindiban. That makes it extraordinarily compelling viewing.