Bhagavad Gita Overview- Chapter 9

So, we are moving forward in our journey through the Bhagavad Gita. Today, we come to Chapter 9, which is one of the most devotional chapters in the Gita. It begins with Krishna spontaneously speaking, just like at the end of Chapter 6, when Krishna says the topmost yogi is a devotee. Now, when someone makes a statement like that—making a significant claim—such a statement needs to be backed up by something substantial.

Historically, both in India and the West, there was a field of study called rhetoric. Rhetoric is basically the art of speaking most effectively. This means that whenever we speak, our speech needs to be at least somewhat linear. A speech can be spontaneous, but it has to be structured in a way that makes sense logically. This means one point of thought should follow another. That’s why the term “train of thought” is often used. How is it a train? Well, there may be multiple bogies or coaches. In America, they don’t use the word “bogies” because “bogie” is considered slang for something fake or bogus, so they use “coaches.” But the coaches must be linked together. So, a “train of thought” means that one unit of thought is expressed and followed by another, and then another.

Of course, a talk doesn’t always have to be structured like a single train of thought. A talk can have different structures. Normally, it could follow a single “train,” but another way of structuring it might be by having a central point, and arriving at that point from different perspectives. For example, in a talk on the existence of God, we might present four different arguments to support the existence of God. These are four different ways to arrive at the same point.

However, when I am speaking about a point, there’s no value in going off-topic and then trying to come back. When we are making one point, that point must follow a logical progression of thought. Generally speaking, trains of thought can vary. For example, there could be four different trains of thought within one session, but all of them would be moving in particular directions. Alternatively, one train of thought might go in one direction, another in a different direction, and then a third might bring cohesion between the two. This is technically referred to as thesis, antithesis, and synthesis. This approach is often used to reconcile opposite ideas and bring about cohesion.

Now, there are various ways to approach persuasion in speech. One could argue from different perspectives, but here, it’s more of a linear, single-point persuasion. This doesn’t mean there’s only one point; it means there is one direction of thought. A talk can be persuasive or argumentative, but in this case, it’s more of a conciliatory persuasion—reconciling two differing ideas.

Speech often involves thoughts going in different directions. While a speech can follow a train of thought like this, to truly be engaging, it often needs to alternate between universals and specifics. By “universals,” I mean concepts or principles, and by “specifics,” I mean examples—whether through analogies, anecdotes, or narratives. Anecdotes are typically real stories, but they could also be fictional or scriptural narratives. The key point is that there are two elements to consider.

For instance, if someone is making a point about being sensitive in speech, that’s a universal principle. This principle needs to be illustrated with examples. Sometimes, examples may be self-evident. Depending on the session, the focus can shift. For example, a lecture centered on pastimes may primarily present specifics, with some universals interspersed. This would be more like a “leela”-centered class.

For example, we may take the story of Manthara and Kaikeyi, and how Manthara misled Kaikeyi. In this case, we could talk about the effect of bad association. So, the specific story goes on for a longer period, and then the principle comes in occasionally. On the other hand, there could be talks centered around principles, with stories or specifics coming in occasionally. These are philosophy-centered talks, but it’s not just philosophy; it could be any intellectual content.

In these talks, the majority of the content consists of concepts, and occasionally, there are examples. These types of talks are generally more intellectually demanding and are usually for a more intellectual audience. Such talks are generally aimed at the “classes,” meaning those who have the inclination and capacity for conceptual understanding.

The idea is that stories are nice—everyone enjoys them. But sometimes, one might hear a story and wonder, “What did I really learn from it? Was it just entertainment?” Even movies, for instance, often convey values. These values might be directly shown through the characters’ discussions or might come through the choices that the characters make, sometimes deliberating over these choices. Similarly, we may deliberate on their choices. When it comes to story-centered talks, it depends on the individual how deeply they engage with the story. Some people may simply watch the story and enjoy it, while others might reflect on how it relates to their own lives.

For example, if we don’t like a character in a movie, we might think about why. Maybe it’s because of their personality traits, or perhaps it’s because they are making bad choices. The depth to which an individual engages with a story depends on the person. On the other hand, when concepts are the primary focus, the speaker has more control over how many stories are included.

Now, if we consider two texts—the Bhagavad Gita and the Bhagavatam—where would each fall in this spectrum? The Bhagavatam is more “pastime-centered,” while the Gita is “philosophy-centered.” The Gita itself has no direct stories, although it comes in the middle of a narrative. It doesn’t focus on stories specifically, but it does contain many metaphors. However, we are discussing this to appreciate the way a talk is structured.

When structuring a talk, it’s important to ensure that there is a “train of thought.” For a train to move, there must be rails beneath it, and each rail must be linked to the next. In the same way, when a speaker makes a statement, there needs to be a logical connection. The psychology of the speaker and the audience plays a key role here.

Let’s focus on the audience’s reaction, specifically their sense of acceptability—how credible, believable, and logical the audience finds the speaker’s statements. If each statement makes sense, the acceptability of the talk increases. If the speaker continues to make acceptable statements, the audience becomes more open to considering statements that might have seemed unacceptable at first. This process builds credibility. However, if the speaker makes a statement that seems completely unreasonable, the acceptability will drop, and the speaker may need to provide further explanation, elaboration, or justification.

For example, if we are discussing Indian spirituality, many people may expect the speaker to glorify Indian culture and criticize Western culture. But if I say something like “Indians are very good at financial ethics,” the statement might raise questions. To clarify, I might provide an example, such as e-commerce transactions, where people trust each other to send money after receiving goods, even without prepayment. This example helps to make the statement more acceptable.

Similarly, if I were to say, “Indians are very cleanliness-conscious,” but the listener has seen dirty streets in India, they might be skeptical. However, if I explain that people in India are very cleanliness-conscious in their own homes, but public cleanliness is not emphasized in the same way, this clarification makes the statement more acceptable.

Every statement is evaluated based on what the audience has heard or experienced. If a subsequent statement doesn’t seem to align with the previous ones, the audience may get stuck on it and have difficulty moving forward with the talk. This is why it’s important for the speaker to make statements that are credible and understandable. While not every statement will resonate with the audience, some must stay with them.

Some statements should be memorable, creating “sticky statements”—those that stick with the audience and continue to resonate after the talk. However, it is crucial that these sticky statements do not cause the audience to become stuck in their thinking, preventing them from moving forward with the rest of the talk. If a statement is too difficult to accept or understand, it may cause the audience to lose focus and hinder their ability to engage with the rest of the content.

For example, we can consider the story of Manthara and Kaikeyi, and how Manthara misled Kaikeyi. In this case, we can discuss the effects of bad association. The specific story might go on for a longer period, with the principle being introduced occasionally. On the other hand, there could be talks focused on principles, with stories or examples coming in intermittently. These are philosophy-centered talks, though not exclusively philosophy—they can also involve any intellectual content.

In these talks, the majority of the content consists of concepts, with examples occasionally provided. Such talks are generally more intellectually demanding and are often aimed at a more intellectually inclined audience. These talks are typically for the “classes,” referring to those with the interest and capacity for conceptual understanding.

The point is that stories are enjoyable—everyone likes them. However, sometimes we hear a story and wonder, “What did I really learn from it? Was it just entertainment?” Even movies, for example, often convey values. These values may be explicitly shown through the characters’ discussions or conveyed through the choices that the characters make, sometimes after reflecting on them. Similarly, we may reflect on their choices. When it comes to story-centered talks, the depth of engagement depends on the individual. Some people may simply watch and enjoy the story, while others may think about how it relates to their own lives.

For example, if we dislike a character in a movie, we might think about why. It could be because of their personality traits, or perhaps because they are making bad choices. The extent to which an individual engages with a story varies. On the other hand, when concepts are the main focus, the speaker has more control over how many stories are included.

Now, if we look at two texts—the Bhagavad Gita and the Bhagavatam—where would each fall on this spectrum? The Bhagavatam is more “pastime-centered,” while the Gita is more “philosophy-centered.” The Gita itself does not focus on specific stories, although it takes place within a narrative. While it doesn’t emphasize stories, it contains numerous metaphors. We’re discussing this distinction to better understand the structure of a talk.

When structuring a talk, it’s essential to maintain a “train of thought.” For a train to move, it must have rails, and each rail needs to be linked to the next. Similarly, when a speaker makes a statement, there must be a logical progression. The psychology of both the speaker and the audience plays a crucial role here.

Let’s focus on the audience’s reaction, particularly their sense of acceptability—how credible, believable, and logical the audience finds the speaker’s statements. If each statement makes sense, the acceptability of the talk increases. If the speaker continues to make logical and acceptable statements, the audience becomes more open to considering statements that might have seemed questionable at first. This process builds credibility. However, if the speaker makes a statement that seems completely unreasonable, the acceptability will decrease, and the speaker may need to provide additional explanation, elaboration, or justification.

For example, if we’re discussing Indian spirituality, many people might expect the speaker to glorify Indian culture and criticize Western culture. But if I say, “Indians are very good at financial ethics,” this statement could raise doubts. To clarify, I might provide an example, such as e-commerce transactions, where people trust each other to send money after receiving goods, even without prepayment. This example helps make the statement more acceptable.

Similarly, if I were to say, “Indians are very cleanliness-conscious,” but the listener has observed dirty streets in India, they might be skeptical. However, if I explain that people in India are very cleanliness-conscious in their homes, though public cleanliness is less emphasized, this clarification makes the statement more acceptable.

Every statement is evaluated based on what the audience has heard or experienced. If a subsequent statement doesn’t seem to align with the previous ones, the audience might get stuck on it and struggle to move forward with the talk. This is why it’s crucial for the speaker to make statements that are both credible and easy to understand. While not every statement will resonate with the audience, some must leave a lasting impact.

Certain statements should be memorable, creating “sticky statements”—those that resonate with the audience even after the talk has ended. However, it is vital that these sticky statements do not cause the audience to become stuck in their thinking, preventing them from progressing with the rest of the talk. If a statement is too difficult to accept or understand, it may cause the audience to lose focus and hinder their ability to engage with the content that follows.

We discussed the issue of how some individuals may become single mothers and then may not want to take responsibility for raising their children. If relationships are solely about pleasure with no intent for procreation, it becomes unnatural and disruptive. Birth control, contraception, and abortion are unnatural interventions in the process of procreation. Naturally, these do not occur in nature, and we must intervene to prevent or interrupt the natural process. From a spiritual perspective, however, there is purification through service. When parents come together to raise a child in service to the Lord, the union becomes spiritually uplifting.

Normally, love in a relationship would involve at least some level of pair bonding—two individuals coming together with the intent of building a life together. A spiritually centered relationship, however, transcends pair bonding. It is not only about building a home together, but building a home for Krishna, where Krishna’s children can grow and become Krishna’s devotees. The purpose of the relationship shifts from self-centered pleasure to spiritual fulfillment.

When relationships are solely focused on pleasure, without the purpose of procreation, pair bonding, or service, they become nothing more than raw lust. Such lust is opposed to true love, as the foundation of love is rooted in a deeper purpose, beyond mere physical attraction.

We were discussing a different point, which is: What is the opposite of love? One opposite of love that is often overlooked is envy. Why is envy the opposite of love? It comes down to how we perceive the glory of others. When there is love, the success or glory of others brings us happiness. When there is envy, however, the success of others brings us unhappiness or even anger.

In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna repeatedly tells Arjuna that He is speaking to him because Arjuna is non-envious. What Krishna means is that Arjuna is not disturbed or agitated by hearing Krishna’s glories. He is happy to hear them. For example, if we win an award or accomplish something great, we may want to share the news with our family. However, if we have a sibling who is jealous of us, our announcement might trigger their jealousy instead of bringing joy.

The same dynamic can happen in relationships. If the husband is successful, the wife might feel insecure, especially if she earns more than he does. In such cases, the husband’s inability to celebrate his wife’s success might lead to jealousy and tension. This is a clear example of how love and envy are opposites. When there is love, we celebrate the success of others, but when there is envy, we feel agitation or resentment instead.

Krishna starts the Gita by saying, “I am speaking to you because you are non-envious.” We might think, “Envy towards God? Why would anyone be envious of God? He’s out of our league.” And that’s true in the conventional sense—envy typically arises between equals. For example, if we’re both doing devotional service, and someone else does it better, we might feel envious. But we don’t feel envious of someone who is much more senior to us. Similarly, we don’t feel envy towards God, who is completely beyond our understanding. However, envy towards God may manifest in a different form.

When we hear about God’s glories, instead of being filled with awe and reverence, we may feel agitated or skeptical. This reaction indicates a form of envy. We might not want to outright challenge God’s glories, but we may try to dismiss them. We could try to justify that what we’re hearing isn’t true. For instance, if someone gives a good class and everyone praises them, we might say, “They gave a good class, but have you seen how much prasad they eat?” We cannot deny their skill, so we try to undermine their reputation in other ways.

This kind of behavior—challenging, doubting, or falsifying God’s glories—can be a subtle form of envy. Arjuna shows how to challenge God’s glories in a healthy way when he asks, “How can you give this knowledge to the Sun God?” This is a genuine inquiry, a challenge for understanding, not an attempt to discredit or dismiss God. It’s a submissive challenge, not an antagonistic one.

If we approach God’s glories with the mindset of proving them wrong or trying to bring God down to our level, Krishna says He will withhold His glories from us because that attitude will only agitate us and distance us from Him. Krishna says to Arjuna, “I will speak my glories to you because you are non-envious.”

Now, Krishna speaks of a significant topic in this context: Does God control everything? Many of us would agree that God is the supreme controller (Parameshwara). But the real question is, does God control everything? We can accept that God is the supreme controller, but that does not necessarily mean He is the sole controller of everything that happens.

This distinction between being the supreme controller and the sole controller is crucial in understanding the dynamics of free will and divine control.

If we say that God is the sole controller, then there would be no room for free will. However, there is another issue to consider. If we acknowledge that God is the supreme controller, does this mean He controls our actions and choices? If God controls everything, why are we held responsible for our bad actions? For example, if a crime occurs and the police arrest an innocent person, placing a gun in their hand and forcing them to pull the trigger, it would be considered a barbaric abuse of power. If we say we have no free will, we’re essentially suggesting that God makes us do bad things and then punishes us for those actions. This would make God appear evil, which is a significant problem.

Thus, the denial of free will would imply that God is responsible for all our actions, including the bad ones, which would make Him unjust. This leads to the conclusion that if there is no free will, then God is evil. But this is clearly not the case.

While God is the cause of all causes, this does not mean that He is the cause of every single effect in the world. He is the cause of all causes, but not necessarily the cause of all effects. Let’s try to understand the difference between the cause of all causes and the cause of all effects. For example, Draupadi was disrobed by Dushasan. Krishna intervened in the situation by making Draupadi’s robe limitless, preventing it from being exhausted. But could we say that Krishna was responsible for Dushasan’s actions? No, it was Dushasan who was performing that horrendous act. Krishna provided Dushasan with the strength to do so, but Dushasan used that strength based on his own free will.

The cause of all causes is Krishna, but the specific effects—such as Dushasan’s actions—come from his own misuse of free will. The scriptures illustrate this by comparing it to the rain: rain is the cause of all vegetation, but which specific vegetation grows where depends on the seeds planted in the ground. Similarly, while rain enables vegetation to grow, it does not determine which plants grow in a given area. In this sense, rain is the cause of all causes, but not the cause of all effects.

This differentiation helps explain an apparent contradiction in the Bhagavad Gita. In Chapter 9, Verse 4, Krishna says, “Matsthani Sarvabhutani” (all living beings are situated in Me). But just two lines later, in Chapter 9, Verse 5, Krishna seems to say the opposite. If someone contradicts themselves, they might say, “Sorry, it was a slip of the tongue,” but Krishna doesn’t feel the need to apologize or correct Himself. Instead, He highlights the apparent contradiction, saying, “Behold this!” This is a demonstration of Yogam Aishwaram, the opulence and mystical connection Krishna has with the world.

In the Gita, the term yoga has many meanings, but one essential meaning is “connection.” It often refers to the soul’s connection with God through different paths like karma yoga, jnana yoga, and bhakti yoga. However, in this context, Krishna is referring to His connection with the world. He sustains the world, and He says, “The world is in Me, yet the world is not in Me.”

Krishna then offers an example to clarify this seeming contradiction. He compares it to the relationship between the wind and the sky. Just as the wind moves freely in various directions but is always situated in the sky, similarly, all living beings are situated in Krishna. The wind is free to move, but its connection with the sky remains constant, just as all living beings are in Krishna, but they are also independent in their actions.

Let’s try to understand this metaphor, but before that, let’s recite the words together once more. Krishna explains that if we consider the sky to be like an upside-down bowl, within that space there is a gust of wind. The wind can move in various directions—upward, downward, leftward, rightward, and laterally—so it is free to move in different ways. However, the wind cannot move beyond the bounds of the sky, which represents the domain of God’s control. While the wind has freedom within the sky, it cannot exceed the limits of the sky’s space.

Now, of course, we know that the concept of the sky as an upside-down bowl is just a metaphor. Krishna uses it to draw from our conventional understanding, and we know space itself is infinite. But this metaphor helps illustrate that the sky represents the domain of God’s control, while the wind represents our free will. We all have a certain “sphere of influence” (kshetra), which is determined by our past karma. Within this sphere, we can act freely.

For example, Dushasan had a certain position, and within that position, he had the freedom to act, but that power was temporary. His influence lasted only for a limited time, and during that time, he could do whatever he wanted within his scope. Similarly, a police officer may have unchecked power within their jurisdiction, but once their superior steps in, the situation changes. A dictator may control a country for a time, but their power is not absolute and will eventually be limited, either by external forces or by their own death.

This “kshetra” refers to both space and time, defining the limitations of one’s influence. Within this sphere, what we choose to do is up to us. So, when bad people commit bad actions, it is not God who forces them to do so. Rather, they misuse their power, and Krishna allows them to act according to their free will. Krishna observes their actions, and when their karma runs out, they will face the consequences.

In life, the extent of our influence can change over time. For instance, someone born into a royal family may have limited influence as a child, but as they grow into a prince or king, their influence increases. Over time, however, their influence may decrease as they age or fall ill, and eventually, when they die, their influence ceases. So, the kshetra is dynamic and changes with time. Additionally, different people within the same space may have varying degrees of influence. In a school, for example, a student may have some influence as a class monitor, but the teacher has more, and the principal has the most influence.

Krishna says, “All living beings are situated in Me, but they are not situated in Me.” This means that while all living beings are within God’s ultimate control, their specific actions are not dictated by God. This idea can also be viewed another way: no action can happen without God’s involvement, yet the specific intent behind an action is not always God’s will. In other words, while God grants permission for everything that occurs, He may not necessarily intend for all of it to happen.

For example, Krishna’s intention was to offer a peace plan to Duryodhana. However, Duryodhana rejected it. Krishna did not force Duryodhana to reject the peace proposal; that was Duryodhana’s choice. Krishna allows individuals to act according to their desires, but every action carries consequences, whether good or bad.

This concept is further explored in the Gita, especially in the context of the Pandavas. Despite the many wrongs done to them—such as the disrobing of Draupadi and the loss of their kingdom—Krishna does not condone the bad actions. Instead, Krishna observes and permits them to unfold, but ultimately, He ensures that justice is served.

There is a common saying, “Everything that happens is good.” However, this is not the teaching of the Gita, nor is it philosophically correct. While it may sound comforting, it is not accurate. In fact, when something truly bad happens to someone, it is wrong to tell them that it is good. For example, when Draupadi was disrobed and humiliated, Krishna did not tell her that what happened was good. Instead, He helped her when no one else could.

The Gita teaches that while everything can have a purpose or be for the greater good, it doesn’t mean that every event is inherently good. Some events are genuinely bad, and we must recognize that. But how we respond to those events—how we choose to see them and learn from them—can lead to positive outcomes. In this way, even negative experiences can contribute to our spiritual growth if we choose to learn and grow from them.

If we say that everything that happens is good, it implies that there is no room for bad people to do bad things, which would essentially deny the existence of free will. It also goes against human experience. In some religious traditions, there is a belief that everything that happens is good. However, it’s important to note that within each religion, there are many different denominations and interpretations. For example, Hindus, Christians, and Muslims each have various sects with differing beliefs.

In the UK, there was a court case against the very idea of God. The petitioner argued that the concept of a “good God” should be considered immoral and illegal, due to the severity of human suffering. He stated that considering the magnitude of suffering in the world, the very idea of a benevolent God insults human intelligence and dignity.

Now, when we claim that everything that happens is God’s will, we need to understand that “will” can have different meanings. It can mean God’s intention or simply His permission. Not everything that happens is what God intends to happen, but it is what He allows to happen. For example, when Duryodhana insulted Vidura just before the war began, it was a result of Duryodhana’s misuse of his freedom. Vidura tried to reason with Duryodhana, but when Duryodhana rejected his advice, Vidura left, choosing to go on a pilgrimage. Vidura’s choice to leave was a positive response to a negative situation.

The point is that while Duryodhana’s actions were wrong, Vidura used his free will to turn a bad situation into an opportunity for spiritual growth. This shows how, even in the face of evil actions, we have the power to choose how we respond. In this way, good can emerge from bad, depending on our reaction.

Krishna explains that there are different kinds of people who approach Him in different ways. In the Gita, Krishna categorizes humanity into a spectrum, based on how they act and how they approach Him. Some actions align with Krishna’s will, while others are simply allowed by Him. Krishna will discuss this in more detail, outlining various types of people, including the demoniac, impersonalists, and pure devotees.

Regarding impersonalism, there are two main categories: Brahmavadis and Mayavadis. Brahmavadis believe in the impersonal aspect of the divine but do not deny the existence of a personal God. They are drawn to the formless aspect of God, which is considered an impersonal manifestation of the divine. On the other hand, Mayavadis go further, claiming that the personal form of God is an illusion, or “maya,” and that the ultimate reality is the formless, impersonal Brahman.

Krishna does not condemn all who seek oneness with the divine. In fact, Brahmavadis, who are focused on merging with the impersonal aspect of God, are not seen as offensive. However, Mayavadis, who deny the reality of God’s personal form and call it an illusion, are considered demoniac in Krishna’s view. They engage in a philosophy that is not only harmful but also contradictory, as they meditate on deities only to eventually destroy them, claiming that this is the path to enlightenment.

Not all Mayavadis are harmful, though. Many of them are genuinely seeking spiritual progress, and they may follow a less extreme path. Still, Krishna strongly condemns the philosophy that denies His personal form, as it is seen as a form of spiritual degradation.

Krishna further elaborates on the spectrum of devotees. In verses 13 and 14, He speaks of those who are pure devotees, while in verse 15, He discusses three categories of people who worship Him in different ways. Some seek oneness with God, while others engage in devotion to various deities. Krishna will elaborate on these categories in the upcoming verses, distinguishing between those who worship Him in His universal form and those who worship His personal form.

In summary, Krishna acknowledges that human actions fall within a range from those in harmony with His will to those who misuse their free will. He explains that while everything that happens is within God’s control, not everything is according to His intention. Some actions are permitted, while others are allowed to unfold based on the choices of individuals. Krishna’s message is clear: how we respond to the situations life presents is what truly matters, and it is in our hands to turn negative circumstances into opportunities for growth and spiritual realization.

Krishna presents a spectrum of humanity, showing that different living beings have distinct characteristics. He doesn’t condemn any of them but rather acknowledges the diversity of approaches to the divine. Some people seek oneness with the ultimate reality, while others worship the one absolute truth in different forms. There are also those who worship the universe itself.

Many scientists, if not aggressively atheistic, could be considered nature worshipers because they often regard the laws of nature as supreme. This worldview can be compared to the Shakta system, where Shaktism emphasizes the worship of divine energy, often personified as a goddess. While scientists do not engage in specific rituals like pujas, the underlying idea is that nature itself is sacred. In this sense, some scientists may fall into a category similar to what Krishna describes as “Vishvato Mukham,” where they view the universe or nature itself as divine.

Einstein’s concept of God falls somewhere between nature worship and deism. Pantheism, which holds that everything in nature is divine, aligns with this idea. Deism, on the other hand, posits that God is the creator of the universe but does not intervene in its workings. Einstein’s views reflected elements of both pantheism and deism, making him a complex figure in the discussion of the divine. While he made statements about believing in God, he also made conflicting statements, which leads to a nuanced interpretation of his beliefs. His concept of God evolved throughout his life, influenced by his experiences, including the trauma of witnessing the Holocaust and the devastating impact of the atomic bomb.

For some, the idea of scientists believing in God might seem strange, especially when their beliefs don’t align with the devotion of a religious person. As such, we should understand that people’s conceptions of God can change over time based on their personal experiences and evolving views. This is important when interpreting the statements of figures like Einstein.

Moving forward, let’s discuss three important concepts briefly: Dvaitavada, polytheism, and the classification of gods.

Polytheism refers to the worship of many gods. Historically, when European colonialists, primarily Christians from monotheistic traditions, came to India, they observed the multitude of gods in Hinduism and immediately labeled it as polytheism. They found it perplexing to see so many temples and deities, as their own faiths were monotheistic, believing in only one God. One Western scholar even described Hinduism as “a museum of religions,” considering the numerous gods and idols a confusing aspect of the tradition.

However, when some thinkers in the West took a deeper look, they realized that in each temple, the deity being worshipped was considered the supreme deity by the devotees. While there are many gods in Hinduism, each is worshipped as the ultimate, making it difficult to classify the tradition strictly as polytheism or monotheism. The Vedic tradition doesn’t neatly fit into these Western categories.

In fact, the Vedic perspective can be described as “polymorphic bi-monotheism.” This means that there are many forms of the divine, but each form is ultimately seen as the one supreme reality. This view transcends the binary of monotheism and polytheism, reflecting a more nuanced understanding of divinity where all gods are expressions of the same ultimate truth.

In our tradition, the concept of God goes beyond a single entity; it involves a divine couple. For example, Radha-Krishna, Sita-Ram, Lakshmi-Narayan—both deities in these couples are considered supreme and divine, even though there may be a dynamic of Shakti (divine energy) and Shaktimaan (the source of energy) in their relationship. This is why our tradition can be called bi-monotheistic—not just monotheism, but the worship of two supreme beings.

Additionally, the concept of polymorphism means that the divine can take many forms. For instance, Lord Vishnu manifests in different forms such as Rama, Krishna, Narayana, Narasimha, and Vamana. These forms, while distinct, are all considered aspects of the same divine reality. In the case of the divine couple, like Sita-Ram or Radha-Krishna, it is often said in that order (Sita-Ram), but both forms are worshipped as equally divine. Thus, the idea of bi-monotheism reflects this duality and multiplicity of the divine.

Now, let’s consider the concept of multi-level understanding of the divine. In Western traditions, particularly in the context of polytheism, there is often the belief that there is one true God, and all other gods are false. This concept stems from the Abrahamic religions, where the notion of a jealous God is central. According to the Old Testament, God demands exclusive worship, and any form of idol worship or false gods is to be destroyed. Kings in biblical narratives are often depicted destroying temples of other gods as part of purifying the land.

This idea was carried forward in Christian and Islamic teachings, where idolatry, or the worship of false gods, is seen as a grave sin. In Islam, for instance, idol worship (called shirk) is considered the unforgivable sin, while other sins, such as murder or rape, are forgivable. The destruction of idols was not just a historical action but also tied to the belief that such idols are false manifestations, often linked to satanic forces.

However, in Hinduism, the relationship between God (Bhagawan) and the devatas (gods or deities) is very different. Here, God is seen as the supreme ruler (like the Prime Minister), and the devatas are like ministers assisting in the divine administration. The worship of other gods is not viewed as false, but rather as part of a broader divine system. The focus is not on destroying other gods but on recognizing that all the deities, though many, serve the supreme God.

In the Vedic tradition, the devatas have two roles: one is an administrative role, assisting the supreme God, and the other is in cosmic governance. Krishna arranges for the devatas to be worshipped because, for many souls, direct worship of Krishna may not be possible due to various reasons. Worship of the devatas is seen as a step towards coming closer to Krishna. This is a key difference between the Vedic tradition and the Abrahamic idea of one true God versus false gods.

For example, in the story of the prodigal son in the Old Testament, the father waits for the son to return, and when he does, the father welcomes him with open arms. In contrast, in the Vedic tradition, God does not merely wait; He actively works to bring the soul back. Krishna, for instance, sends a representative (the devata) to guide the soul back to the divine.

Imagine the soul (the prince) has left the kingdom of the father (Krishna’s realm). Instead of waiting idly, the father sends a minister (the devata) to invite the prince back, not directly speaking of the father’s position but offering the soul the opportunity to come closer to the divine. Once the prince (the soul) begins to recognize the authority of the minister (the devata), he is eventually led back to the father’s kingdom (Krishna’s presence). This is how devata worship works in our tradition: it’s a pathway to eventually worshiping Krishna.

While the best path is direct worship of Krishna (called bhakti), for those who are not yet ready, worshiping the devatas is an intermediate step. The devatas serve as guides, helping the soul progress on its spiritual journey.

In the worship of the devatas, it is important to understand that Krishna is not just a passive observer. He is deeply involved in the process. It is Krishna who gives power to the devatas to fulfill the desires of the worshippers. It is Krishna who gives shraddha (faith) to the individual to worship the devatas. This emphasizes Krishna’s role in facilitating devotion to the deities.

When Krishna tells us not to be envious, it is not just a directive for us to avoid envy but also an expression of Krishna’s own nature. Krishna, as the supreme being, is beyond envy. For example, if I am the boss of a company and someone else joins the company, working with the same title, I may feel slighted. However, Krishna is not like that. He is not concerned with his own glorification. His primary concern is the elevation of the soul. He is happy that the soul is engaged in devotion, even if it’s through other forms of worship, because Krishna’s primary concern is not his own status but the welfare of the soul.

Now, in the Bhagavad Gita, particularly in the seventh chapter, Krishna expresses this idea further. Let’s look at two verses that illustrate this point:

1. Verse 7.21: Krishna says, “Yo-yo yām yām tanum bhaktah shraddhayaarchitum icchati, tasya tasyācalām shraddhām tām eva vidadhāmy aham.”
   “Whichever form of the deity a devotee desires to worship with faith, I give them unshakable faith.”
   This verse shows Krishna’s kindness—He gives the faith necessary for the worship of the devatas. Even when people worship the devatas, it is Krishna who grants the faith required for that worship.
2. Verse 9.23: Krishna says, “Yepyanyadevatābhaktā yajante shraddhayānvitāh, te pimāmē vakontēya yajantyavidhipūrvakam.”
   “Those who worship other devatas with faith, they are actually worshiping me, though they do so improperly, without following the proper scriptural understanding.”
   This verse highlights that even those who worship other gods, though they may not follow the prescribed methods, are still, in essence, worshiping Krishna. However, their worship is considered improper because they don’t follow the correct process.

In a discussion with someone who questioned why some people criticize the worship of the devatas, I was pointed to a translation of this verse that omitted the phrase “avidhi purvakam” (improperly). The translation simply said, “Those who worship the devatas are also worshiping me.” When I questioned this, the editor of a popular Hindu website explained that they used translations from several prominent commentators, many of whom omitted this phrase. He argued that they wanted to present the Bhagavad Gita as it was understood by the majority of Hindus.

I responded by pointing out that truth in scripture is not determined by majority opinion. Scripture must be understood based on the traditional interpretations, and removing such important details can lead to misunderstanding the true message. Many of these translators, while noble, were not always deeply engaged with the spiritual tradition but were often influenced by political or nationalistic agendas. During India’s independence movement, some prominent figures tried to interpret the Bhagavad Gita in a way that unified Hindus under a single ideological banner, sometimes distorting its teachings for political convenience.

This is a departure from the true spiritual teachings of the Gita. Krishna does acknowledge that those who worship other devatas are still, in a way, worshiping Him. It’s like the soul returning to the father’s kingdom, which is good, but it’s not the best way. Krishna’s ultimate goal is for the soul to come directly to Him through proper devotion, not through intermediaries. While worship of the devatas can be a valid step toward this, it is still not the ideal path.

Now, let’s consider the utility of emphasizing these two points. On the one hand, Krishna acknowledges that those who worship the devatas are still ultimately worshiping Him, but on the other hand, He emphasizes that such worship is improper and not the best path. This dual perspective reflects the broader spiritual teaching: while there are various paths to the divine, the best path is the one that leads directly to Krishna, through the practice of bhakti.

To illustrate this with an example: Imagine a parent with two children. One child follows the parent’s instructions closely, while the other child, although still a part of the family, does not fully follow the instructions but still returns to the parent. The parent will still welcome both children, but the parent’s greatest desire is for the child to come back and follow the path correctly, because that is the best way for the child’s growth and well-being.

In the same way, Krishna welcomes those who worship the devatas, but He wants us to understand that the ultimate goal is to worship Him directly, with proper faith and understanding, following the prescribed path.

Let’s take an example to illustrate the point: Suppose one person is very good at studies and scores 90%, while another person barely passes with 40%. When both come to their parent, they will each be evaluated differently. The parent will praise the one who scored 90%, saying, “Well done!” and will likely scold the one who scored 40%, asking, “What have you done?” But now, what about the person who scored 65%? Is 65% a good or bad thing? It depends on where you’re coming from. For the one who scored 40%, 65% is an improvement, but for the one who could have scored 90%, it’s disappointing. Similarly, if someone is coming from materialism and begins worshipping the devatas (gods), it’s a positive step. However, if someone already practices bhakti to Krishna and turns to devata worship, it’s a step backwards.

In this context, when Krishna says those who worship other devatas are also worshiping Him, it’s about perspective. If a person is already inclined towards Krishna bhakti, they don’t need to turn to devatas. But for someone starting from materialism, worshipping the devatas can be a step towards coming closer to Krishna. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than being fully materialistic.

So, Krishna’s words can be interpreted in different ways depending on where someone is coming from. If someone has the capacity to worship Krishna directly, then turning to devata worship is not ideal. But if they are just beginning their spiritual journey, worshipping devatas is better than staying in materialism. Krishna’s teachings are inclusive; he recognizes that worshipping devatas is part of the broader path, but that doesn’t mean it’s the same as worshipping Him. There is a clear distinction: worship of Krishna is superior to worship of the devatas.

The Gita emphasizes that Krishna is the ultimate goal. In the seventh chapter, Krishna mentions that those whose intelligence is clouded by material desires will end up worshipping devatas. This is similar to a prince who, because of a flawed relationship with the father, might end up seeking someone else’s guidance, even though the father is the rightful authority. It’s not that the prince can’t come back to the father, but there’s a misunderstanding that needs to be corrected.

In the case of devata worship, it is not the same as the Abrahamic view of worshiping false gods. The devatas are not to be demonized for Krishna to be glorified. We can respect the devatas, but we should be careful not to over-respect them, which can lead to an unhealthy attachment. We should also avoid under-respecting them. The key is to understand the concept correctly and elevate others.

When it comes to terms like “demigod,” I prefer using “devata” instead. In the Western context, “demigod” is often associated with a figure who is part god, part human, like the Pandavas, which carries a different connotation. The word “devata” is more aligned with our tradition and conveys respect. It avoids the negative associations that some people might have with the word “demigod.”

In practical terms, if we come from a family or tradition where devata worship is common, we don’t need to disrupt it. If our family is performing a devata puja, we don’t need to trivialize or demonize it. For example, if the family is offering modak as prasad (sacred food offering) during Ganesh puja, we can take it with respect, understanding that we are doing this as a service to Krishna. There’s no need to make a big issue out of it. Krishna says in the Gita that we shouldn’t agitate the minds of others. If the mood in the family is centered around worshipping the devatas, we can join in without feeling the need to criticize.

This approach is important to avoid unnecessary conflict. Sometimes, devotees may become overly strict about their practices, which can lead to misunderstandings. For instance, I once knew a devotee who, during a family Ganesh puja, was given prasad but spit it out immediately after. This caused a major argument in the family, and they became hostile toward his spiritual practices. It’s essential to recognize that faith must be applied intelligently. Faith is good, but it needs to be applied with common sense. Faith without intelligence can lead to fanaticism, which causes more harm than good.

In conclusion, fanaticism is not the result of strong faith but often the result of insufficient understanding. Faith should always be accompanied by wisdom. Our goal is to elevate ourselves and others without creating division or unnecessary conflicts. The key is to act with intelligence, respect others’ practices, and not let differences become a source of agitation.

Somebody says, “I’ll not compromise.” “Yeah, don’t compromise.” That means we don’t have to say that Krishna is the supreme or that the devatas are superior. We can chant certain mantras, but after that, we can chant Brahma Samhita mantras about that particular devata or whatever we feel we can do in our minds. Does it matter? But it is too little, lacking common sense.

Prabhupada said many times that Krishna consciousness is common sense. According to time, place, and circumstance, we need to know what to speak, where, and when. When Prabhupada was studying at Scottish Church College, his professor was a Christian, and he said, “This Hindu theory of karma doesn’t make any sense.” Why? Because, he argued, if someone has done something wrong, who is the witness to observe that wrong? Without a witness, how can someone be punished?

Prabhupada knew the answer—it is the Paramatma in the heart. But Prabhupada felt that since it was Scottish Church College, he couldn’t disrupt the classroom setting. Did Prabhupada give the truth? Yes, at the right time and in the right place. He enlightened many people with the truth. But strategic silence is not compromise. Common sense sometimes requires a strategic silence.

One last point I’ll make now in Chapter 9: Essentially, Krishna is speaking all this to glorify the path of Bhakti, to establish how practicing Bhakti can give you everything that other paths offer, and even more. But before he can explain that, he must establish that not everything that happens in the world is necessarily His will. If we think that even bad things happen because of God, it becomes difficult to devote ourselves to such a God. We would think of that God as one who can arbitrarily do anything to anyone, or that God is indifferent, letting people do whatever they want without intervening.

Krishna clarifies that different people have different orientations. He uses the metaphor of an upside-down bowl, with Krishna above it. We are not with Krishna right now, but in this bowl, we could be as close to Krishna as possible or as far away as possible.

In 9.13-14, Krishna talks about the Mahatmas who are so close to Him that they are almost as if with Him, while the offenders, the demoniacs, are far below. In between are the devata worshippers, Brahmavadhis, and other types. Of course, the spectrum of humanity extends further, with atheistic or demoniac people at the bottom. This is a spectrum of humanity, and different people are situated at different places, but Krishna says the path of Bhakti can elevate everyone from wherever they are. This is the glory of Bhakti.

He describes Bhakti using the acronym EASE:

• E for EASY: Krishna says, “Patram, Pushpam, Phalam, Toyam” – this path is simple.
• A for ALL-EMBRACING: Even those who are low-born can practice Bhakti.
• S for SAFE: Even if someone makes mistakes, they are still within Krishna’s purview.
• E for EVERLASTING: The results of Bhakti are eternal.

In this way, Krishna is telling us that the glory of Bhakti is that it elevates and includes everyone. It is easy—you don’t need elaborate rituals. It is all-embracing, safe, and its results are everlasting.

So Krishna concludes that Bhakti is the ultimate path: “Manmana Bhava, Manbhakto…” You just practice Bhakti, and you can come to Me. This concludes Chapter 9.

Thank you very much.