Love of Krishna 'Links God, Man'
This article, "Love of Krishna 'Links God, Man'" was published in Chicago Tribune, August 30, 1970, in Chicago, Illinois.
By Lynn Van Matre
Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna Hare Hare, Hare Rama Hare Rama Rama Rama Hare Hare
AT ROCK FESTS, on city street corners and in a temple located in a rundown block of North Halsted Street, yellow and orange-robed Krishna followers chant this ancient Vedic incantation and say their lives are sublime.
They are part of a nonsectarian movement called the International Society for Krishna Consciousness [ISKCON], which was begun in 1966 in New York City and has spread throughout the world. The movement's founder and spiritual master is Indian religious leader, Prabhupada A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami.
At 70, the Swami came to the United States to preach love of God to people of the West, and he, together with some of his American students, started the movement. A few months ago, a handful of young devotees - most of them in their twenties [75 per cent of all ISKCON devotees are under 30] - took up residence at 2210 N. Halsted St. and began to spread their word in Chicago.
Among those who came here was temple president Rudra, 22. Sitting barefoot on one of the oriental rugs covering the temple floor after a recent kirtan service [congregational chanting held three times a week], he explained the joys he has found in serving Krishna. Nearby, other robed devotees explained Krishna Consciousness to the half-dozen visitors, arguing their case calmly, all very, very sure of their beliefs.
Krishna, whom the followers worship, was the incarnation of a Hindu Deity. He compiled the Vedas, Hindu sacred writings, around 5000 B.C.
EARLIER IN the evening, Rudra had conducted the kirtan, reading from the Bhagavad Gita [Vedic scriptures], and leading the others in prayers in Sanskrit or Bengali, said kneeling, with forehead to floor. Then he began the Hare Krishna chant, the group melodiously repealing it over and over to drum, hand cymbals and tambourine, the members dancing with joy as they sang.
"That's called real pleasure," he said as the chant ended. "It's transcendental. It can't be taken away."
"The purpose of all religion is to understand God," Rudra continued. "We believe you understand Him by studying Vedic scriptures, practicing Bhakti yoga [yoga of devotional service] and by chanting the name of the Lord Krishna, which reawakens the link between God and man dormant in everyone. Real pleasure is found in loving and serving God."
Through the chanting and continual service, ISKCON devotees seek to give all the opportunity of returning to a pure state of consciousness, to identify themselves in an eternal relationship with Krishna and see themselves and others as spiritual souls, not material bodies.
RUDRA HAS been in the movement a year and a half. His story is typical, and he tells it with the total sincerity of all initiated followers. Neither fanatic nor freak, he has chosen what he believes is the perfect way of life and adheres completely to its teachings. Of a middle class background, Rudra looks upon the world he left as another lifetime.
"I used to make a lot of money, playing with a band," he says. "I wrote songs, but they were miserable. Life was nothing but eating, sleeping, sex. There had to be more."
Originally from Detroit, Rudra attended Loyola College in Montreal. One summer, he headed for Los Angeles, where he met several Krishna devotees.
He was skeptical at first. "I wasn't much interested in religion. it offered no realization of God. But after I saw the spiritual master and heard him speak, I realized I didn't need anything else but to live in Krishna Consciousness. I moved into the L.A. temple for awhile, then decided to become initiated."
Rudra touched the dog collar of brown beads which marks him as an initiate of the movement. Until initiation, devotees wear no neck beads, tho they do don the simple robes [yellow for the married ones, orange for singles] and streak their foreheads with white clay to signify their bodies are temples of Krishna. Men shave their heads except for a small patch, and women grow their hair long - a renunciation of material values. The devotees abide by the rules of the movement: no smoking, illicit sex, intoxicants or gambling.
FROM CALIFORNIA, Rudra was sent to help at the Detroit temple, then on to found the Chicago temple. With him came eight followers, including his bride, Radhika. Their marriage was arranged by a senior devotee in Detroit. The couple met a week before the ceremony. After three months, they say they are very happy.
"If you choose your mate, it would be for physical attraction," Rudra says. "When the movement chooses her, it's for the spiritual betterment of both."
"Marriages in Krishna Consciousness are nice," says Rudra, and Radhika, a quiet, dark-haired girl with wire-rimmed glasses, nods. "The husband is spiritual master." Radhika accepts this philosophy.
"There are different types of bodies. I am a woman, and the female body is at a lower spiritual consciousness. So the husband serves Krishna and the wife serves Krishna by serving her husband. In return, be gives her spiritual knowledge."
Married couples' sex life is limited to certain times and is for procreation only.
Children live with their parents until age 5, when they are usually taken to New Vrindaban, a Krishna farming settlement in West Virginia, to be educated by devotees.
Rudra, Radhika and other devotees - about a half-dozen males and another girl - live very simply in the two-story building, formerly an office, that has become their temple. After a certain amount of curiosity and occasional hostility, the neighborhood residents have accepted them readily.
DOWNSTAIRS a large room. painted yellow and purple, serves as worship center. It is entered through yellow curtains, barefoot [out of respect and also for cleanliness, shoes are left at the door]. A brick wall is decorated with prayer rugs; more rugs dot the bright blue wall to wall carpeting. At the far end of the room a red-draped altar is almost cluttered with pictures of the Lord Krishna in various incarnations. Flower chains frame pictures of this era's spiritual leader and ISKCON founder. More pictures, incense, peacock feathers and a conch shell flank the altar.
Upstairs are living quarters - two large rooms, kitchen and bath. One rough, loft-like room is used for meals and discussions, the other houses clothing and other gear. Men and women sleep in separate areas except for Rudra and Radhika, who have small curtained quarters.
Meals are simple - apple juice, fruit, rice, milk, vegetables, nuts. No canned foods and no meat - it is said to make men violent, whereas a vegetarian diet promotes mental balance. Two delicious confections complete the menu: lugdoos, a mixure of chick pea flour, sugar, nuts, dates and butter, and "Simply Wonderfuls": balls of sugar, powdered milk and butter which taste like Christmas cookies.
Devotees' life is simple, but the hours of work and prayer are long ones. They arise at 3 a.m. for meditation and chanting, with the first offering to Krishna made on the altar at 5 a.m. More prayers, study and chanting ensues until the morning meal at 8. The morning is spent cleaning the temple, and afternoon finds the whole group on the streets, chanting until dinner. By 10, everyone's asleep.
The long day is not tiring, devotees say. "Our work relaxes us," one says. "The more work for Krishna you do, the more blissful you get. Most people don't like their jobs, but we like all our work. We're losing our false egos in Krishna Consciousness 24 hours a day."
In the fall, the group will visit college campuses. This summer, they stick to Chicago streets and until recently chanted and sold incense and literature [source of most of their funds] in the Loop. They had to quit the Loop campaign when police busted the group for soliciting.
"The police were very nice to us," Rudra says. "We're going through legal procedures now to get permission to sell literature in the Loop. Anyway, our spiritual master sent word we're not to sell incense on the street - it looks like we're out to make money. Our purpose is to awaken knowledge in people by chanting, expanding bliss."
The Chicago Krishna group, like groups from Detroit, Canada, Boston and Honolulu, makes frequent trips to rock festivals to awaken youth to Krishna Consciousness. They find a fertile field for their efforts.
"Young people say they're searching," Rudra says, "but generally they're not. They think they've found The answers in drugs, intoxication, illicit sex. Maybe we can help them start a real search for God."
"At festivals people say to us that we must be miserable since we don't smoke or use drugs or have illicit sex, and we follow rules. Well, usually those people at festivals are the miserable ones. The devotees are blissful, because we're tasting Krishna Consciousness. We live by some rules, yes, but they help us become warmer with each other, not exploit each other."
Devotees invite all they talk to to attend their feasts, held every Sunday. Often as many as 80 persons attend. The program is similar to week-night kirtans and, of course, everything is very blissful. ["Blissful," like "nice," is a mainstay of devotees' vocabularies. The words are used frequently by Prabhupada and apparently are contagious.]
A UTOPIAN life style? Maybe. Devotees know they are far from perfect, but still, quarrels are few. When they occur, arguments usually concern the best way to serve Krishna. "There are no personality hang-ups," a devotee says. "We sometimes get agitated but everything's handled nicely."
Of the hundreds who have joined the movement, relatively few have left it. Some devotees have been living in the urban communes for four years now; others for two years or one year or a few months. All insist they plan to spend their lives in the movement. Rudra, like many other young married men in temples throughout the country, says he intends to take sannyasa when he is 50 - that is, leave his wife to be cared for by their children and serve only the spiritual master for the rest of his days.
But a life style that seems right in one's twenties sometimes looks different as years pass and attitudes change. It remains to be seen how many devotees grow old in Krishna Consciousness. But the movement is growing, and today, devotees see it as the perfect way of life.
To the common observation that Krishna Consciousness is fine, but severely limits experiencing what the world has to offer and would soon grow tedious and confining, devotees reply, "We're the ones who are free. It's the people outside who are trapped. Their happiness is based on fleeting material things, but you can't take the Hare Krishna chant away. We have inner pleasure."
Photo at top: Chanting and dancing for hours in honor of Krishna is a painless way of service. The bag Radhika (center) has around her neck holds prayer beads.
Photo at bottom: Prayers to Krishna are said kneeling with forehead touching the floor.
Photo at right: Conch shell, which Radhika blows into, is used in Krishna congregational services for its "transcendental sound."