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A
Sectarian Form of Hinduism in the American Diaspora
Written
by Derek Mitchell
May 8, 2003
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The establishment of Hindu religious life in the diasporic setting
has often involved a degree of unification, summarization, and
adaptation. By this I mean that as Hindus set up temples and
societies in the diaspora many have felt the need to make their
institutions as inclusive as possible. One manifestation of
this inclusivity can be found in the placement and choice of
deities in new temples; as John S. Hawley points out about the
large variety of images found at Divya Dham in Queens, New York,
'The generous array of deities one sees here would be
unusual in India, but it is a familiar feature of the Hinduism
on display in American temples...In diaspora, after all, there
is far more need to summarize than in the homeland.' The incorporation of many different
deities and forms of worship within one temple and the tensions
created by these adaptations have been noted by numerous studies
of diasporic Hinduism.
Because the Hindu tradition has no central governing body with
the power to standardize doctrine and practice, individual temples
can be flexible and innovative in how they approach Hindu life
in the diaspora. It is true that many temples in the United
States are affiliated with large temple-institutions in India,
such as the association between the Ganesh temple in Queens
and Tirumala Tirupati Devasthanam in Andhra Pradesh, but most
have still taken liberties with their interpretations and presentations
of Hinduism to reflect the diasporic condition.
Prema Kurien has studied Hindu organizations in the United States
that have been formed to appeal to specific Indian regional
communities (such as Tamil Brahmans, or Malayalam speakers);
the efforts at inclusivity seen in some of the larger Hindu
establishments are not as apparent in these more regionally-focused
Hindu settings. She notes, however, that in these smaller, regionally-orientated
organizations, modified forms of worship and innovative interpretations
of Hinduism are common. These features of Hindu life in diasporic
settings can be regarded as common to both the regionally-focused
and broader-based Hindu settings. Yet the innovative and ecumenical
ways of conceiving of diasporic Hinduism might, at first glance,
seem to have little saliency for certain sectarian forms of
Hinduism that have become popular throughout the diaspora. I
am interested in this essay in what the diasporic condition
means for members of a sectarian Hindu organization. What does
the maintenance of close ties with governing bodies in India
mean for modification and innovation within a tradition? How
do members of a sectarian Hindu organization mediate between
their sectarian identity and a more generalized Hindu one? What
role does regional identity play in the maintenance of a sectarian
organization's insularity? I will approach these questions
and examine their implications through the results of my field
work at the Vaishnav Temple of New York in Holliswood, Queens.
The temple is affiliated with the Pushtimarg devotional sect,
a sampradaya founded by Sri Vallabhacharya in the sixteenth century. This
temple's location in Queens, where a number of Hindu temples
exist, presents an ideal setting for comparing ecumenical and
sectarian forms of Hinduism in the diaspora.
Pushtimarg
in Queens
The Vaishnav Temple of New York is situated in a residential
middle class neighborhood of Queens, just off busy Hillside
Ave. The building itself could easily be mistaken for another
house in the neighborhood as little on its exterior hints that
Lord Krishna resides within. The only indication that it is
a house of worship is the sign, next to a crumpled American
flag, that reads in Gujarati script, 'Sri Govardhan Nathji
Mandir,' the temple of the Lord of Govardhan. This is
a way of referring to Krishna as the lord of Mt. Govardhan,
the sacred mountain located in the Braj region of Uttar Pradesh.
My first thoughts as to why the temple's identity was
so outwardly inconspicuous was that it wanted to keep a low
profile in this residential neighborhood; perhaps zoning laws
or complaints about a Hindu temple moving into the neighborhood
had forced the temple founders into adopting a more modest exterior.
When my field partner asked the head of the youth committee
why the exterior of the building was not made with ornate designs
and shikharas, he responded that the temple
is in fact a haveli, a mansion-like house, where Krishna
resides. The temple's outward appearance as a residence
was explained by this member of the community as consistent
with what an abode for Krishna should be like.
The entrance to the temple is through an unmarked brown door
on the first floor. Just inside the entrance is a place for
removing shoes and a short corridor with announcements in Gujarati
about coming events, the various temple committees (youth, senior,
executive), and pictures of past festivals. At the end of the
space is a poster of Srinathji where prasad, food blessed
by Krishna, is offered. To the
left of the poster is a picture of Sri Vallabhacharya and then
the entrance to the temple itself. Inside the carpeted room,
which is no more than 15 ft. by 25 ft. large, is an open space
for devotees. When the room is filled to capacity, I have seen
around one hundred gather there to take darsan of the
Lord. Two of the walls are covered with posters of Srinathji
or Krishna's lila (play) in Braj; some depict his
dances with the gopis, others show him as a child, balkrishna,
but the pictures are often changed. There are also images of
Sri Vallabhacharya and Yamunaji, the goddess of the river that
runs through Braj. The space in front of the devotees
is separated from them by a railing, beyond which is the garbha
grha, the inner sanctum, where Krishna resides. I have never
seen anyone but the priest of the temple enter that space. Doors
in front of the garbha grha are shut except during the
periods when darsan is being offered; usually the temple is locked during such times. I came
to discover that these darsan
periods are timed with extreme precision; arriving even a few
minutes late means finding the doors firmly shut. Much of the
ritual activity in a Pushtimarg temple, such as dressing the
Lord, laying out food for him, or preparing him for his naps,
is conducted by the priest when the doors of the garbha grha
are closed. Only during brief moments of Srinathji's
daily routine are devotees allowed to peer into his world.
The image of Srinathji within the garbha grha stands
no more than three feet tall and is made of a black stone that
comes from Govardhan mountain. When
I first saw him he was ornately dressed, in a manner that befits
the winter season, with an elaborate turban placed on his head. Before
taking up residence at the Vaishnav temple of New York, this
image of Srinathji was in the possession of Goswami Sri Indira
Betiji, one of the female descendants of Vallabhacharya living
in Vadodara, Gujarat. One devotee told me that Indira Betiji
had a dream that Srinathji wanted to live in the United States.
Soon after she was approached by Pushtimargis living in New
York to enlist her help in the construction of a Vaishnav temple
in Queens. She continues to be one of the principal spiritual
advisors for this temple.
The primary activity that happens in the temple is darsan.
According to the temple's web site, darsan is offered
six times a day for one half hour periods. The first time I
attended a darsan, at 6:30 p.m. on a Sunday, there were
roughly twenty people scattered about the room, both men and
women were mostly in Western clothing, and all Indian. They
sat cross-legged and gazed at Srinathji or prayed to themselves.
Some older people (~50-60s) sat in the front and sang kirtan,
devotional songs, to Srinathji. Occasionally I could make out
Sanskrit slokas but usually I could not understand the
language of the singing'I thought that it might be Gujarati
or Braj Bhasa. The singers had before
them a number of books that some seemed to follow as they sang.
Soon after my arrival the priest appeared in the sanctum, placed
a number of objects near Srinathji, and then fit a flute into
the Lord's hand. The priest was dressed in a dhoti
and kurta and walked barefoot on the white marble of
the sanctum. As he appeared one of the older women stopped singing
and got up to strike a gong. The priest then stood erect before
the deity, with his elbows resting at his side and forearms
extended, and began waving an oil lamp (arati) in a controlled,
precise manner. When I saw him perform arati on a later
occasion he did it in what appeared to be exactly the same way.
While the priest performed arati for 2 or 3 minutes,
some of the devotees clapped, the people in the front sang kirtan,
and the striking of the gong continued. After it was over, people
chatted for a moment, gave donations, and soon after began filing
out to get prasad.
When I visited the temple for darsan at 12:30 p.m. on
a Sunday there were nearly one hundred people present. We had
been told by one of the temple's vice-presidents that
this is the most well-attended darsan of the week. Unlike
my previous evening visit, many of the women were now wearing
Indian clothing and people seemed to be both taking darsan
and chatting among themselves. Holi season had begun, so when
I arrived the priest was creating a picture of what looked like
a house around Srinathji by throwing vermilion powder at screens
behind the svarup. After finishing the image, he threw
different colored powder out at the devotees and then performed
arati. At this darsan, nearly everyone stood up for arati and some clapped rhythmically. After the priest finished,
almost everyone chanted a Sanskrit sloka in unison and
then prostrated themselves or bowed their heads. Shortly after
the arati and chanting the priest shut the doors to the sanctum'Srinathji
only grants darsan
for short periods.
The second time that I visited the temple at 12:30 on a Sunday
there were far fewer people in attendance, roughly thirty. At
this darsan, those singing kirtan were accompanied
by hand cymbals and a keyboard. When arati began, only
one or two older men stood up and most did not clap; it appears
that there is no fixed way for people to react to the arati
being performed. A feature of this darsan that I had not previously seen was that after the priest performed the
arati he took a large swath of orange cloth that had been
placed before Srinathji and draped it over the heads of a family
huddled together in front of the sanctum. When I asked one of
the temple's vice-presidents why that family had the cloth
placed over them he said that it was a way of blessing them
for sponsoring that arati.
In addition to the darsan periods, large numbers of devotees
congregate at the temple for satsang. Satsangs are monthly opportunities
for devotees to gather in the temple's upstairs meeting
hall and sing bhajans, religious songs, together. When
I attended a satsang most of the devotees were seated
on the floor cross-legged, but some of the older women sat in
chairs. Everyone faced an altar where pictures of Srinathji,
Vallabhacharya, and Yamunaji had been placed; next to the pictures
popcorn had been offered as prasad. Unlike the darsan
periods, men and women sat separately at the satsang and
most children sat with the women. At the front of the room was
a small group of musicians who played a keyboard and shook tambourines
while one older man sang. After the older man sang a verse,
everyone congregated would repeat it. Occasionally someone among
the congregation would come to the front and lead everyone
in a bhajan. At one point an elderly woman (60s-70s),
full of rasa, got up and led the congregation in
a jubilant bhajan
that had some people standing and rhythmically clapping. She
would point to the image of Srinathji and then urge the crowd
to sing louder and louder until everyone seemed to be in a playful
mood. One man next to me commented that by singing the bhajans,
everyone feels like they are the gopis playing in the
ras lila with Lord Krishna.
The season of Holi had just started so some members of the congregation
threw red powder at the pictures on the altar and others smeared
powder on each others' faces. After two hours or so of
singing bhajans everyone went downstairs for darsan
and arati. At this point there were well over a hundred
people present. After the priest finished arati and closed
the doors to the sanctum everyone filed back upstairs for a
communal meal of Gujarati food.
Darsan and satsang are the two most common events to bring devotees together at the temple.
Less common, but often drawing many more devotees, are the temple's
celebrations of festivals. According to the temple's website,
the major festivals celebrated include: Bhagwat
Gyan Yagna, Gita Gyan Yagna, Giriraj Mahotsav, Phag Khel (Holi),
Janamashtami (Krishna's birthday), Nand Mahotsav (morning
after Janmashtami), and Shri Mahaprabhuji Prakotsav (Vallabhacharya's
birthday). These
are only a few of the many festivals and events listed on each
month of the temple's calendar. Some of the summer festivals
include the Rath Yatra (procession of Krishna through the streets),
Hindola (rocking baby Krishna in a swing), and Hariyali Amavasya
(celebrating the coming of the rains). All of the festivals
celebrated at the temple focus on Krishna; even Divali, a festival
commonly associated with Ram and Sita, is followed on the next
day by Annakut, a celebration of Krishna raising Govardhan mountain
over Braj. Members of the temple have told me that hundreds
attend the major festivals like Janmashtami and Holi.
I was present at the temple for the celebration of Sri Vallabhacharya's
birthday in April, 2003. The day began with a yatra, a procession, of Sri Vallabhacharya's
picture in a chariot, through the streets of the temple's
neighborhood. Seventy to one hundred people gathered to accompany
the chariot for the half-hour procession. A number of the men,
many of whom wore Indian clothing and saffron fabric around
their heads, pulled the chariot, played drums, and clashed small
cymbals. Many women, dressed in saris, held pots on the their
heads and sang bhajans as they followed the chariot.
At one point, when the procession stopped for a moment, the
women formed a circle around the chariot and began singing and
dancing. One of Sri Vallabhacharya's descendants accompanied
the procession and, later in the day, delivered a discourse
in Gujarati. As the chariot returned to the temple, devotees
bid on who would get to perform the puja for Sri Vallabhacharya
once the picture was back inside. After the procession, the
children of the temple enacted the ras-lilas, danced
to bhajans, and told the story of Sri Vallabhacharya's
birth in a cultural show. By the time the guru-descendant
then spoke, there were over two hundred people present in the
temple's upstairs meeting hall. The evening ended with
a massive offering of mahaprasad for all present.
The guru-descendants
of Vallabhacharya play a number of vital roles in the Vaishnav
Temple of New York beyond delivering philosophical discourses
and presiding over festivals.
The guru's visits are the only opportunities for new
devotees in the United States to become initiated into the Pushtimarg'only
a descendant of Vallabhacharya can initiate a new devotee by
administering the brahmasambandha mantra. Many aspects of the temple
life such as consecrating the svarup of Srinathji also
require the support and presence of a guru. Maintaining
this connection to one of the gurus is vital for temple
life. The guru-descendant Pujyapad Goswami 108 Shri Mathureshwarji Mahoday of Surat,
Gujarat is a permanent member on the Board of Directors of this
temple.
Mathureshwarji's primary role in the Vaishnav temple of
New York is to be the advisor on all spiritual matters that
are beyond the purview of the resident priest. His instructions
were recently required on how to move the statue of Srinathji
in a ritually correct manner. The temple building is going to
be expanded and so the need has arisen to move the garbha
grha temporarily upstairs; moving the image of Srinathji requires
meticulous attention to ritual details, however. Spiritual direction
on such matters is required from a guru-descendant living
in India, but the actual administration of the temple is controlled
directly by members of the New York temple.
The highest level of administration is the
Board of Trustees. Their primary tasks include handling financial
matters, outreach and growth. Beneath them is first the Executive
Committee that executes the Board's decisions, and then
the youth and senior committees. The youth and senior committees
perform tasks like sending out temple mailings, tidying up the
temple, and providing entertainment at events (e.g., dance performances).
At one of the youth committee meeting I attended a number of
the members were complaining that the seniors volunteered to
perform duties before the young people even found out about
them. They joked at how many more tasks the older people complete.
Throughout the youth committee meeting I attended, the chair,
a man who looked to be in his late twenties, tried to encourage
the people younger than he to volunteer more at the temple.
The ten people he spoke to on the other side of the table ranged
from about twelve to early twenties in age. None seemed very
enthusiastic to be there and, despite complaints about seniors
taking all the tasks, they were not forthcoming when the chair
and his brother asked them to volunteer for coming events. After
pushing and pushing the young people to do some kind of creative
performance at a coming event, one finally volunteered to dance;
for the rest of the meeting they singled her out as an example
who the others should follow.
I asked myself during the meeting whether the young people's
reluctance to become more involved in temple life was a result
of their not having internalized the importance of a Pushtimargi's
constant seva (service to Lord Krishna). Many of them
had been initiated into the Pushtimarg through brahmasambandh,
so those young people were likely to be aware of the responsibilities
that a devotee must take on after initiation. Yet the low numbers
of young people present at youth committee meetings and the
lack of enthusiasm in those who were there indicates a clear
gap between adult and youth involvement at the temple. It has
been apparent at every event I have visited at the temple that
there are not many young people above the age of ten who regularly
attend. Seniors and middle-aged devotees are most common at
the temple but there are also quite a few small children running
about during darsans and satsangs. I do not think
I have seen more than five people who looked like teenagers
in the entire month and a half that I have been visiting the
temple. Even at the birthday celebration for Sri Vallabhacharya
there could not have been more than ten teenagers present throughout
the day.
One reason for this dearth of young people
may be the almost total use of Gujarati as the language of the
temple. The young people at one youth committee meeting I attended
explained that they do speak Gujarati at home but they cannot
read it. Some complained that they couldn't find out more
about Pushtimarg because everything about it is written in Gujarati.
Though kirtan and bhajans at the temple are more often in Sanskrit and what
I believed to be Braj Bhasa, Gujarati is the language of all
of the temple's literature and oral proceedings. I've
come to find out that nearly everyone who attends the Vaishnav
Temple of New York is Gujarati; the only non-Gujarati I have
met there is the priest, who is from Rajasthan. The temple seems
to conceive of itself as being regionally-oriented toward Gujaratis,
as all of the newsletters about coming events, which go out
to 3,500 people, are printed in Gujarati. Similarly, the announcements
in the temple's entrance area, the temple's sign
on the façade, and most of the books in the temple's
library are written in Gujarati. In regard to the administration
of the temple, one of the members of the Executive Committee
told me that most of its proceedings are in English but those
of the Board of Trustees tend to be in Gujarati. According to
Hasmukh Shah, a member of the Board of Trustees, he and many
of the members of the temple are members of the Gujarati Samaj
of New York, though a formal association between the temple
and the Samaj does not exist. The chairman of the Board of Trustees,
Dr. Arvind Shah, was once a president of the Gujarati Samaj.
Whenever I have heard of non-Pushtimargis, such as Jains, coming
to the temple for darsan of Srinathji they have all been Gujaratis.
Just as the temple is solely oriented toward Srinathji as the
divine, so it is entirely oriented toward devotees who are Gujarati.
The temple is clearly aware of how the overwhelming
use of Gujarati in temple life can create obstacles for the
second generation's participation. Efforts seem to be
made to include the second generation by holding weekly Gujarati
classes on the temple premises, conducting youth committee meetings
in English, and including more English in the temple's
newsletters. From the comments of some devotees, it seems clear
that, as time goes on, the temple's literature will increasingly
be available in English and Gujarati to accommodate the second
generation.
Another pattern that I have noticed among
the temple's members is that nearly every young man I
have met there is involved in business, and most in information
technology (IT). When I asked the youth committee chair about
the sorts of jobs the older people on the committee have (mid-twenties
and thirties), he realized after answering me that they have
enough business specialists among them to start a small IT business
themselves. Among the older people at the temple now involved
in IT, those who I spoke to studied engineering in India and
learned their computer skills after migrating. The temple seems
to be encouraging its members to become skilled in information
technology as we were informed that a number of computers had
been donated and computer classes would soon be started. It
appears that many members of the senior committee were interested
in acquiring basic computer skills and that members of the youth
committee would volunteer to teach them. Interestingly, those
who seem to be considered the most distinguished in the community,
such as the chair of the Board of Trustees and the president
of the Executive Committee, are medical doctors. The Pushtimarg
community in New York, at least among regularly attending men,
could also be a considered a community of 'professionals'
and entrepreneurs. The demographics of the New York temple have,
as I will demonstrate in the next section, been carried over
in multiple ways from the Pushtimarg community in India.
Pushtimarg
in India
Many
aspects of temple life at the Pushtimarg temple in Queens correspond
to the practices and beliefs maintained by devotees at Pushtimarg
temples in India. For my discussion of Indian temple life I
will rely on Bennett, who studied the Pushtimarg temples of
Ujjain, Madhya Pradesh. Like at the temple in
Holliswood, the principal daily activity of Indian Pushtimarg
temples is darsan of Srinathji. Because Srinathji only
grants darsan for twenty or thirty minute intervals throughout
the day, worship has a 'congregational appearance'
in both Indian and North American temples. The
timings and number of darsan periods at the Holliswood
temple are different from its counterparts, however; whereas
Bennett writes that there are seven or eight darsan periods
at temples in Ujjain, the first beginning at 5 or 6 a.m., at
the Pushtimarg temple in Queens there are six darsan
periods and the first begins at 8 a.m.
The daily ritual activities conducted by a temple's priest,
like arati, do not appear to differ significantly between
the Pushtimarg temples in Queens and India.
It
is interesting to note the similarity between Bennett's
description of Pushtimarg temples in India and the appearance
of the New York temple:
Initiates
of Vallabhacarya Sampradaya stress that strictly speaking the
word mandir, the normal word for 'temple'
in north India, is inappropriate when applied to their own places
of worship; instead they prefer the word haveli...Viewed
from the outside many havelis are deceptively inconspicuous
as temples; architectural embellishments such as typify the
Hindu temple style...are absent. Visitors enter through unpretentious
doorways...Judging by the extravagant character of worship inside
the haveli, it would be wrong to assume that its plan
façade reflected an inner spirit of puritanical austerity.'
Both
Barz's and Bennett's books on Pushtimarg stress
the lack of ascetic tendencies in this sampradaya. There
are no renunciant orders in the Pushtimarg sampradaya;
Vallabhacarya was instructed by Krishna to marry and have children,
an act, according to Barz, that would serve as an example to
all later Pushtimarg devotees. Bennett explains that because the performance
of ascetic acts is intended to build personal spiritual merit
and eventually lead to moksa, liberation from rebirth,
some Vaishnavs consider it selfish in nature.
The primary way to gain spiritual merit in the Pushtimarg sampradaya
is to perform seva, selfless service, for Lord Krishna.
This service must be done for no reason than the desire to serve;
the desire for spiritual merit or the fulfillment of any kind
of personal wish cannot be the object of this service.
Bennett describes three primary kinds of seva: 'tanuja-seva, or
service rendered by means of body; the second is vittaja-seva,
or service rendered by making offerings of wealth; and the third
is manasik-seva or mental service.' The first two kinds of seva are
considered the easiest for most to practice as the last kind
can only be sincerely performed by those whose inner state is
completely attuned with the desire to serve Krishna. Service
rendered by the body includes singing kirtan in the presence
of the Lord's svarup, adorning his form according to the season and time of day, and offering
foods to the deity. All of these services for Krishna are
performed either for an image at the temple or in an individual's
home, but the temple worship is understandably much more complex
than that performed in the home. Once Krishna has been invited
to reside inside an image, that svarup requires
regular attention from the devotee.
Singing
kirtan for Srinathji is clearly one of the primary forms
of worship at the Vaishnav temple in Queens. The prevalence
of this practice corresponds to the emphasis placed on kirtan
and hearing the events of Lord Krishna's life in Vallabhacarya's
writings and in bhakti literature in general. Barz notes
that the first and second steps of bhakti in Rupa Gosvami's
Bhakti Rasamrta Sindhu are shravana, 'hearing
or listening to accounts of the life of Sri Krishna' and
kirtana, 'the singing aloud of the names and the
virtues and the events in the lilas of Sri Krishna.' As at the temple in Queens, when Pushtimarg
devotees in India sing kirtan to the Lord they sit during darsan periods in the front of the
temple, just before the doors to the garbha grha.
Satsangs are also opportunities for devotees in India
and Queens to sing kirtan; according to one devotee in
Queens, however, every Pushtimarg temple in India does not hold
satsangs, some satsangs may gather in peoples'
homes, and some may be more frequent than the monthly satsangs in Queens. This is an aspect of Pushtimarg devotion that is left up to
devotees to organize, sustain, and regulate. The kirtan that devotees sing often come from the padas,
poems, of the poet-saints who were devotees of Vallabhacharya
and his son Vitthalnathji. In addition to kirtans, devotees
in New York participate in the shravana aspect of bhakti
when guru-descendants from India come to tell kathas, stories of Sri Krishna's life, and relate them
to the lives of the devotees. As at the temple in Holliswood,
darsan and kirtan/bhajan singing are the primary
ways that devotees at Pushtimarg temples in India worship Lord
Krishna.
The other principal way of expressing devotion at Pushtimarg
temples in India and in Queens is through monetary donations
or vittaja-seva. Procuring wealth is not looked down
upon by Pushtimargis so long as everything that one earns is
dedicated to Krishna. When a male devotee takes the brahmsambandha
mantra he says, 'I now, to the Lord Krishna, do dedicate
my bodily faculties, my life, my soul, and its belongings, with
my wife, my house, my children, my whole substance and my own
self; I am thy servant.' Accordingly, when darsan periods
end at the temple in Queens, men go to the temple manager, whose
desk is next to the entrance, and make donations. This practice
of giving is also practiced, as I saw at a 12:30 p.m. Sunday
darsan, by a family sponsoring the arati. Moreover,
when devotees bid for the ability to do the puja to Sri
Vallabhacharya at his birthday celebrations, the individuals
present saw it not as a competitive, worldly way to participate
in the event but as a playful means of expressing devotion.
One devotee at that event was quick to point out to me that
there is no compulsion for Pushtimargis to give fixed amounts
of their income to the temple. For giving to be an expression
of bhakti, the donation must carry with it the whole-hearted
desire of the devotee to dedicate his or her wealth to Krishna
seva.
The
possession and accumulation of wealth, procured for and dedicated
to Lord Krishna, is an example of Pushtimarg's departure
from traditions of asceticism. As one devotee in Queens, Hasmukh
Shah, writes on the temple's website, 'a devotee
is never advised to abandon his family or his basic worldly
responsibilities.' Bennett notes that by
'dedicating all of one's efforts and gains to the
service of Lord Krishna means that both the activity of acquiring
wealth and wealth itself are rendered sacred by a process of
consecration.' Accordingly,
many members of the New York Pushtimarg community are involved
in business ventures and come from urban business caste families
in Gujarat. The 'symbiotic' relationship between
the Gujarati urban business castes and Pushtimarg began when
Vallabhacharya's son, Vitthalnathji, 'toured Gujarat
six times between 1543 and 1581 with the intention of raising
money to fund the luxurious programme of devotional worship
he had introduced in his temple on Govardhan Hill in Braj.'
Today,
donations from this group of Gujarati businessmen and others
around the world have made the haveli in Nathdwara, where the
first svarup of Srinathji resides, the second richest
temple in India. From early in the history of the Pushtimarg
sampradaya, monetary support has been one of the fundamental
ways of performing seva for Lord Krishna.
The
Sampradaya as a Sectarian Form of Hinduism
My
examination of the relationship between the Vaishnav Temple
in New York and the Pushtimarg community in India can help to
provide answers for why the Holliswood temple considers itself
part of a sampradaya. Approaching this question will,
in turn, illuminate some meanings of the term sampradaya. I have attempted to demonstrate that many of the ritual practices, manifestations
of seva, and demographics
of the Vaishnav temple in Queens correspond in numerous significant
fact ways to Pushtimarg temple life in India. Though differences
in when darsan occurs, for example, or how satsang
is organized do exist, devotees in India and New York profess
many similar beliefs about how Srinathji is to be worshipped
and what the ideal devotee should be like. These correspondences
demonstrate that a unique system of teachings, first promulgated
by the guru-founder Vallabhacharya and later built upon
and institutionalized by his son Vittalnathji, holds a powerful
influence over the devotional expressions of Pushtimarg Vaishnavs
all over the world. The teachings attributed to Vallabhacharya
unite this world-wide group of devotees and give them their
specific, Pushtimarg identity within Hinduism. These teachings are in turn sustained
and passed on by the guru-descendants, who initiate devotees
into the path and sanctify events with their blessings and discourses.
The preservation, reinforcement, and transmission of the guru's
teachings, which maintain the connection between guru and
devotee, comprise some of the central features of an organizational
structure called the sampradaya.
The
term sampradaya has often been translated as 'sect'
in scholarly writing about the followers of gurus like
Ramanuja, Caitanya, Vallabha, etc.
'Sect' is also given as the translation for sampradaya
by some devotees at the Holliswood temple. As both Barz and
Bennett point out, however, certain common connotations of the
term 'sect' do not entirely accord with the meaning
of sampradaya. Foremost among the differences in meaning
is that 'sect' often implies some kind of secession
from a wider organized group or church; sampradaya, on the other hand,
primarily signifies the channels through which the teachings
of a spiritual preceptor are passed on. Bennett provides a comprehensive
definition of sampradaya that is clearly illustrated
in the context of Pushtimarg in New York:
The
sampradaya is conceived as a vehicle for the continuous
transmission of sacred tradition from generation to generation.
The tradition includes esoteric knowledge revealed to the founder
by a divinity, along with scriptures, devotional songs, ritual
paraphenalia, styles of worship, and so on, while its transmission
through time and space is effected by a line of preceptors serving
as a channel for the preservation of the means of salvation
and reproducing over and over again the unique spiritual personality
of the founder.
The
Pushtimarg sampradaya came into being not when Vallabhacharya
produced the esoteric knowledge that comprises Pushtimarg doctrine,
but when he had children. Vallabhacharya's son Vittalnathji,
and his descendants, provided a vehicle by which the teachings
of the guru-founder could be authentically transmitted.
Sampradaya can also be glossed as 'lineage,' often referring to a lineage
of gurus, each
building on the previous guru's teachings. This
translation is applicable to the Pushtimarg sampradaya
in so far as this sampradaya does have a lineage, based
on birth, of gurus going back to Vallabhacharya. But
these descendants, with the possible exception of Vittalnathji,
have served to maintain and transmit the first guru's
teachings rather than build on them. The guru-descendants
reproduce for later generations the consecration and blessings
that the first Pushtimarg initiates received in Vallabhacharya's
presence.
The
gurus' roles as sanctifier and spiritual guide
were in full evidence when one of the guru-descendants
visited the Vaishnav Temple of New York for Vallabhacharya jayanti
this year. His presence in the yatra served to sanctify
the event and his discourse to reinforce the guru-founder's
teachings. Maintaining and transmitting Pushtimarg tradition
also, of course, depends on the devotional involvement of members
of the sampradaya themselves. Their faith in Pushtimarg teachings and desire to perform seva are indexes by which to judge the well-being and vibrancy
of the sampradaya. In presenting cultural shows, for
example, at the Vallabhacharya jayanti, stories about
Krishna and Vallabhacharya's life were passed on to the
second generation. From a very young age, the children of Pushtimarg
devotees receive instruction from their parents in the significance
of seva to Srinathji. The Gujarati classes, youth committee
meetings, and festivals are all venues for the transmission
of tradition to the next generation (as to whether the second
generation accepts and internalizes that tradition is another
matter). Pushtimarg devotees have extended the sampradaya
to New York by maintaining their belief in the traditions and
doctrines of Pushtimarg and nurturing a context where the teachings
of the guru-founder can flourish.
Barz
and Bennett both point out that in addition to signifying 'a
vehicle for the continuous transmission of a sacred tradition,' the
term sampradaya, in the context of Pushtimarg, also carries
with it 'the sense of an exclusive body separated from
other groups that is so fundamental to the meaning of 'sect'
in English.' This aspect of the Pushtimarg sampradaya
has been amply apparent in both my textual and observational
studies and has led me to conclude that the term 'sect'
can be appropriately used as a translation for sampradaya.
A principal example of exclusivity and separation in Pushtimarg
can be found in the significance of the initiation ceremony
to join the sampradaya. In Vallabhacharya's thought
all jivas are contaminated by dosas,
impurities, during the Kali Yuga and can only purify themselves
by completely surrendering to Lord Krishna. This dedication of one's self
and possessions to Lord Krishna is ritually enacted through
reciting the Brahmasambandha mantra in the presence
of a guru-descendant. After undergoing this rite of initiation,
the devotee's jiva is considered purified and,
therefore, 'fit for communion with Krishna.' The initiation marks the beginning
of the devotee's attitudinal shift from the laukika'all
that is associated solely with the profane, superficial world'to
the alaukika, that which is transcendent, sacred, and
filled with an awareness of Sri Krishna.
Vallabhacharya
considered the devotee's desire to receive the Brahmasambandha
mantra, a manifestation of Krishna's will. Only those
whom Krishna chooses to enter the sampradaya will feel
the desire to perform seva to him and seek out a guru
to receive initiation. Mrudula Marfatia calls Vallabhacharya
a 'thorough Predestinarian' because he believed
that it was only Krishna's grace and will, not the actual
efforts and inclinations of the prospective devotee, that determined
an individual's fate. For this reason, a Pushtimarg website
writes that 'anybody can be admitted in to Pushti Sect
but not everybody.' By this they mean that people of any
sex, caste, or nationality can join the sampradaya, but
only those who Krishna has chosen to join will feel the desire
to seek initiation. Salvation is, in other words, only available
to a select, pre-determined group of individuals. When I addressed
this matter with Hasmukh Shah and other devotees at the Vaishnav
Temple of New York, they affirmed the view and reiterated that
if one feels the desire to join the sampradaya, then
he or she has been chosen.
The
distinction that Pushtimarg doctrine makes between those jivas
outside the sampradaya who are still contaminated
by dosas (impurities) and those within whom Krishna has
chosen to be purified, gives rise to the sampradaya's
self-designation as a satsang, or 'society of the
righteous.'
Barz's study of traditional Pushtimarg doctrine leads
him to conclude that 'Vallabhacharya's movement
in particular did not look favorably upon the ordinary world...the
sampradaya became a fortress inside of which the seva
of Sri Krishna, the dharma required of all jivas,
was practiced...Ideally, the sevakas of Vallabhacharya
would not even associate with the members of other bhaktimargi
sects.'
This separation between the Pushtimarg community and the outside
world is reflected in the cosmological conception of the haveli
as 'the threshold between two contrasting worlds (loka).
Outside is the ordinary, mundane (laukika) world populated
by souls which are spiritually ignorant, whereas inside is the
sacred (alaukika) other-world where Krishna performs
his eternal lila, a refuge for divine souls (daivi
jiva) enlightened by the grace of Krishna.' The
Pushtimarg satsang
is conceived by the sampradaya's literature
as an exclusive community of divinely chosen individuals
who should ideally fraternize and worship with like-minded sevakas
of Lord Krishna. At the Vaishnav temple of New York, however,
I have not heard the term satsang used to mean the wider
Pushtimarg community; it has only been used to refer to the
monthly gatherings for singing kirtan mentioned above.
The
distinction made in the sampradaya's literature
between the alaukika Pushtimarg satsang and the
laukika outside world extends to how Krishna is perceived
among the multiple gods of the Hindu tradition. After a someone
is initiated into the sampradaya, Krishna is ideally
the only god who is to be worshipped. Some have called Vallabhacharya
a monotheist because of his complete focus on Krishna as deity.
One devotee at a satsang in New York told me that Srinathji
is like the Father of Christianity and Allah of Islam. This
form of monotheism, however, is not equivalent to that of Mosaic
religion. Vallabhacharya identifies Krishna with Param Brahman
and all of the other gods of Hinduism as parts or aspects of
his all-encompassing being. The Pushtimarg view of gods other
than Krishna is not that they do not exist but that they are
inferior to and dependent on Lord Krishna's existence.
One devotee at the Pushtimarg temple in New York told me that
if the divine is compared to a tree, then gods like Shiva and
Ganesh would be the leaves and Krishna would be the roots. He
said that because he wants to direct his bhakti straight
to the source of the divine, watering the roots of the tree,
he only worships Krishna. Vertovec observed a similar reaction
to Hindu gods other than Krishna among Gujarati Pushtimargis
in Wandsworth, London. He found that 'strict Pushtimargis
would not visit the Radha-Krishna temple because of its attached
Ambamata-Shiva temple, which the Pushtimargis consider inappropriate
or even spiritually rather base.'
Following
from this conception of Krishna's relationship to the
other gods, Pushtimarg doctrine makes a distinction between
the way that members of the sampradaya worship Krishna'
seva'and the Maryadamarg (Path of Rules) way of
propitiating the other Hindu gods, which is puja or karmakhanda. Bennett describes how Pushtimarg devotees he interviewed considered puja to be 'bound by formal rules and regulations
whereas seva is the spontaneous outflowing of love for
Krishna which transcends all concern for proper ceremony.' This explanation is interesting considering
that the Pushtimarg worship I observed in Queens can be exceedingly
ritualized and methodically regulated. Bennett's interviewee
appears to assume that though there are prescribed ways to perform
seva, the attitudes and motivations brought to the performance
of seva and puja differ. When I asked a devotee
in Queens about the seva/puja difference, he also
said that seva is distinguished from puja by the
prema, love, that fills the Pushtimarg devotee's
worship of Krishna. The sampradaya's focus on Krishna
as Supreme God and the numerous distinctions made between the
alaukika satsang and the laukika world that is
beyond, emphasize the sampradaya's exclusivity
and sectarianism within Hinduism. Devotees at the Vaishnav Temple
of New York have, to a certain degree, preserved these features
of the Pushtimarg sampradaya, and therefore, constitute
a sectarian form of Hinduism in the North American diaspora.
The members of this temple are actively engaged in the transmission of
sacred tradition by performing seva to Lord Krishna and
believing in the sectarian doctrines attributed to Vallabhacharya,
while also, though I will examine this in more detail in the
next section, negociating boundaries between themselves and
the wider Hindu community of New York. In the next section I
will turn to how Pushtimarg devotees navigate these boundaries
and how porous or rigid they are considered in the context of
New York Hinduism.
The
North American Hindu Diaspora, Ecumenicism, and Sectarianism
In
this last section I will examine the relationship of the Vaishnav
Temple of New York with the ecumenical, trans-sectarian forms
of Hinduism that have become dominant in many North America
Hindu temples. Furthermore, I will investigate how regional
identities relate to questions of sectarianism and ecumenicism
in the Hindu diaspora. A number of scholars of diasporic Hinduism
have noted that as many Hindu communities in North America organize
themselves into trusts and construct temples, one of the guiding
principles of their efforts is inclusivity. In decisions about the principal deity
to be enshrined in the temple, the language of the temple's
proceedings, and the cultural presentations offered, the foremost
concern of Boards of Trustees in temples all over North America
is how to appeal to as many different kinds of Hindus as possible
(across divisions of caste, region, language, and sect). A form
of Hinduism that many consider unique to America, an 'ecumenical
Hinduism,' has resulted and has come to be prevalent in
some of the major temple complexes of North America (e.g., the
Ganesh Temple of Flushing, Divya Dham, the Hindu Temple of Ottawa,
The Shiva-Vishnu Temple of Livermore). Raymond Brady Williams
provides a definition for this 'ecumenical Hinduism:'
An
ecumenical Hinduism is developing in the United States that
unites deities, rituals, sacred texts, and people in temples
and programs in ways that would not be found together in India.
In temples and centers created on an ecumenical model, emphasis
is placed upon an all-India Hindu 'great tradition,'
on devotion to major deities, and upon some elements of the
Sanskrit tradition...Languages used are Sanskrit for rituals
and English for instruction, commentary, and business.
This
fusion of many different elements from the disparate conceptions
of Hinduism all over India is intended to create a more unified
sense of community among those living in the North American
diaspora. Radhika Sekhar describes how the drive for inclusivism
led the founders of the Hindu Temple of Ottawa to decide that
'although regional variations would be accommodated 'within
reason,' it was to be a 'joint temple,' eventually
unifying Ottawa Hindus in a single temple culture. 'After
all,' it was argued, 'We are all Hindu' and
the temple brochure proclaims in musketeer like fashion: 'One
in All and All in One.'' The
urge to appear as one culture and one community has led to innovation
and modifications in how Hindus worship and how they re-create
their religious identities for the diaspora.
A
major context for the application of inclusive principles in
the construction of North American Hindu temples has been in
the selection of a central deity(ies) for the mulasthana
(inner sanctum). John Hawley notes that Ganesh was chosen as
the central deity at the Ganesh Temple in Flushing, in part,
because he 'is a trans-sectarian figure worshipped by
Hindus of many inclinations, and therefore ideally suited to
a temple intended, at least in its origins, to appeal to Hindus
whose religious backgrounds might have separated them back home.'
By selecting Ganesh as the central deity, the leaders of this
Hindu temple found a way of providing something for everyone
in the figure of one deity. Another approach to creating a more
catholic space in temples all over North America, including
the Ganesha temple, is to establish shrines within one temple
for deities that would traditionally not be found together in
India. One common form of this approach has been to bring Shaivites
and Vaishnavs together by constructing temples with both Shiva
and Vishnu as the central deities. Major examples of such temples
include the Shiva-Vishnu temples of Washington, D.C. and Livermore,
CA. Vasudha Narayanan has noted in her article on the Penn Hills
Sri Venkateswara temple that though this Srivaishnav temple
does not have an image of Shiva or Devi (their is, however,
an image of Shiva's son Ganesh), other Sri Venkateswara
temples in America, such as those in Malibu, CA and Arora, IL,
have incorporated Shaiva elements. This
Shaiva presence would, so far as I know, not have a similar
prominence in the Sri Venkateswara temples of India like the
Tiru Venkatam Temple in Andhra Pradesh. By providing for the
devotional and ritual needs of numerous kinds of Hindus, many
North American temples are actively engaged in fashioning a
Hindu tradition that can respond to the exigencies of the diasporic
condition.
The
creation of inclusivist forms of Hinduism in North America has
not come without much argumentation and compromise among temple
founders. Radhika Sekhar describes in her study of the Hindu
Temple of Ottawa that once the members of the Temple Board had
worked out what deities would be featured in the temple, conflicts
then arose over the materials out of which they would be sculpted,
whether they could be adorned in luxurious garments, and what
rituals could be performed for them. On such matters the Board would split
between those with a more rationalist temperament and those
inclined toward bhakti, as well as along regional lines.
As this temple is controlled entirely by lay members, there
is no higher religious authority to which they can appeal. Sekhar
writes that in such a setting, 'very often adjustments
in Hindu practices are affected by the need to compromise rather
than due to theological computations.'
Some
have come to feel uncomfortable in these environments where
adjustments must be made for Hindus of many different kinds
to assemble. The tensions created by regional ties in pan-Hindu
settings have led some, such as the founder-president of the
Hindu Malayalee group that Prema Kurien has studied, to form
Hindu groups based on regional affiliation. Even
groups with a more regional focus, however, must negotiate divisions
of caste and sect. When Kurien asked a founding member of the
Organization of Hindu Malayalees about the choice of Aiyappa
as the group's central deity, he said, 'we picked
Aiyappa since it was the least controversial choice. He is the
one deity that everyone in the group could agree on. Aiyappa
worship is a unifying factor in the group since there are Vaishnavites
and Shaivites and members of different castes.' Moreover, the congregational
forms of worship in the satsang and bala vihar that Kurien studied were new to many of the South Indian immigrants who
attended. Though they may not have practiced Hinduism in this
manner back in India, the members appreciated the sense of community
that the congregational form of worship fostered among Los Angeles
Malayalees. In both the pan-Hindu and more regionally-oriented
settings, the North American context has created the need for
innovative and inclusive re-interpretations of the Hindu tradition.
I
have described a number of the trends in the formation of Hindu
temples in North America to establish the wider context of diasporic
Hinduism within which the Vaishnav Temple of New York exists.
It should be clear from my presentation of these trends that
temples affiliated with a sampradaya vastly differ from
those taking on a more ecumenical model. As a sampradaya
is a vehicle for transmitting the specific teachings of a guru-founder,
many of the decisions that have had to be made by Temple Boards
across the country were not a part of the creation of the Vaishnav
Temple of New York.
At
the Pushtimarg Temple in Queens, there has never been any need
for the Board of Trustees to argue and compromise on what deity(ies)
would be placed in the garbha grha. A temple would not
be part of the Pushtimarg sampradaya if the central deity
was not one of the svarups of Krishna that have been in the sampradaya since Vittalnathji's time. The connection of the
temple in Queens to the wider Pushtimarg sampradaya led
to a religious authority (a guru-descendant), Sri Indira
Betiji, providing them with the svarup for the temple'even
in the case of which svarups should be chosen there was
no conflict for the Board as such decisions were made by those
who possess higher religious authority.
The
members of the Board of Trustees at the Vaishnav Temple of New
York all share a devotion to a single tradition, which would
rarely be the case in many of the more ecumenical temples of
North America. All of the members of the Board would have received
brahmasambandha and, therefore, have a commitment to
Srinathji, Vallabhacharya, his teachings, and his descendants.
Even on the matter of which house (gaddi) should provide
spiritual guidance to the temple, there has not been, so far
as I know, any contention as Sri Mathureswaraji has been the
temple's spiritual advisor since its inception. Moreover,
a situation, like the one Radhika Sekhar describes, where ritual
procedures are decided upon by 'compromise' rather
than 'theological computations' would never arise
in the Vaishnav Temple of New York because such decisions would
always be referred to either the priest or to Mathureswaraji.
When I mentioned to a Pushtimarg devotee that questions of ritual
procedure and theology are addressed by the Boards of some temples
in the U.S., he immediately contrasted this to theVaishnav (Pushtimarg)
temple, where such questions would always be referred to a religious
authority. It is true that, just as at the Penn Hills Ventakateswara
temple that Narayanan has studied, adjustments have been made
in the daily Pushtimarg worship routine and festivals are celebrated
to suit the secular calendar.
Nevertheless,
these changes constitute some of the most notable departures
from what I have been able to ascertain about Pushtimarg temple
life in India. There is a strong continuity in ritual practice
between Indian Pushtimarg temples and the one in Queens; modification
and adaptation in practice and belief can only occur to the
extent that they still remain true to the sampradaya.
Temples affiliated with sampradayas represent a form
of diasporic Hinduism that sharply contrasts with the ecumenical
modes of worship that have become prevalent in many of North
America's major temple complexes.
The
Pushtimargis in Queens are not a homogeneous community, but
there is among them a certain degree of uniformity in caste,
region, and theological-orientation. Gujarati can be used for
temple proceedings rather than English because there is an assumption
that everyone hails from Gujarat (though of course this is presenting
itself as a problem in the case of the second generation). The
use of Gujarati in temple life is not, however, as strictly
maintained as it would be in a Swaminarayan setting as Vallabhacharya
was not from Gujarat, nor did he write in that language. But,
like in a Swaminarayan setting, food at the mahaprashads
will almost always be Gujarati (with popcorn perhaps counting
as an excpetion) and many women wear Gujarati dress. A more
or less uniform regional affiliation at the temple fosters,
from what I have observed, a closer and more comfortable sense
of community than would be the case at a temple like Divya Dham.
In addition, a degree of insularity'from non-Gujarati
Vaisnavs, for example'certainly results from the temple's
regional focus.
The
inclusivism of many Hindu temples in North America and the exclusivism
of doctrinal Pushtimarg clearly account for differences such
as what deities are represented in the respective temples. The
Pushtimarg's exclusivism and concept of satsang
should also extend into how members of the sampradaya relate to the wider Hindu community around them. Bennett reminds his readers,
however, that the conception of the Pushtimarg sampradaya as a satsang, and all the exclusivist implications of that designation, is an ideal
form and should not lead one to attribute an 'exaggerated
sense of homogeneity and discreteness' to the sampradaya. Using his ethnographic research in
India to build on Barz's textually grounded statements
about satsang and exclusivism, Bennett writes that Pushtimarg
'members perform varying roles outside the sectarian domain
which are not necessarily abandoned on entering the temple...devotees
are also heirs to a wide variety of traditions in Hinduism...which
incorporate rituals which have no place in Pushtimarg and yet
which are not regarded by devotees as contradicting, obstructing,
or denying the approach to Krishna via the Path of Grace.'
In
my studies of Pushtimarg in Queens, I have found both the satsang
understanding of Pushtimarg and a more porous conception
of boundaries between the sampradaya and the wider Hindu
community. While it is true that as a part of the sampradaya,
the Vaishnav temple itself must maintain strict boundaries between
itself and the wider Hindu world (in, for example, the deities
represented in the temple and the rituals performed), this does
not necessarily mean that members have no sense of pan-Hindu
identity.
In order to arrive at some kind of understanding of how Pushtimarg
Hindus in New York mediate between their sectarian identities
and their more generalized Hindu ones, I asked nearly everyone
I encountered whether he visited temples other than Pushtimarg
ones in the U.S. I have found, as I noted earlier in the paper,
that some do not visit other temples, but they were definitely
in the minority among those I spoke with. Most said that they
do go to other temples, especially the Ganesh temple in Flushing,
though they all had different ways of expressing this fact to
me. Some said without any hesitation that they visit other temples
with some frequency. Others paused, and then told me that they
do, on occasion, go to other temples, while others said they
go very infrequently. When I asked one gentleman this question,
he paused and then gave a response that seems to explain the
hesitation with which some devotees answer this question. He
said that he does visit temples like the Ganesh Temple in Flushing,
which is near his home, but he recognizes that not everyone
agrees that this is permissible for a Pushtimargi. There is
clearly a tension regarding this issue among some of the devotees.
In one fascinating case of someone trying to reconcile his Pushtimarg
identity with a more generalized Hindu one, a devotee at Vallabhacharya
jayanti told me that he does go to the Ganesh Temple
in Flushing, but when he bows to Ganesh he says, 'Jai
Sri Krishna.' He clearly meant in saying this that he
can bow to Ganesh and refer to him as Krishna because Ganesh
is a part of Krishna's all-encompassing being. All of
these devotees are clearly trying to balance the exclusivist
aspects of Pushtimarg doctrine with a desire to be a part of
the wider Hindu community of New York.
I
decided to get a sense of whether Pushtimarg devotees in Queens
visited other temples when they lived in India by first finding
out if they were in the Pushtimarg sampradaya back in
India and then asking about temple-going. Almost everyone that
I questioned came from Pushtimarg families and a number of them
said they did visit non-Pushtimarg temples in India. I speculated
that perhaps because many of these devotees had come from Pushtimarg
families, they felt less compelled to maintain a literal interpretation
of doctrine, in the way that a recent initiate might. Their
patterns of temple worship in New York and India appear to parallel
Bennett's finding that 'for Pushtimargis [in Ujjain],
it would be fair to say that most tend to have regular recourse
to Lord Krishna, and yet visit other deities on occasions.'
The
male devotees of the Vaishnav Temple of New York with whom I
spoke clearly conceive of themselves as both Hindu and Pushtimargi.
Even a gentleman who told me that he only worships Krishna told
me that Pushtimarg is a part of Hinduism. The difference between
Pushtimarg devotees appears to be in how porous they conceive
of the boundaries between different approaches to the practice
of Hinduism. There is certainly a tension among devotees on
how exclusivist and how inclusivist each Pushtimargi can be
within his or her own conception of Hinduism. Some might say
that Hinduism can accommodate all different kinds of paths to
God, while others might believe, as Pushtimarg doctrine stipulates,
that only those within the sampradaya will achieve salvation. One young devotee told us at the 'Hinduism
Here' conference that he feels more oriented toward the
jnana marga, but still considers himself a Pushtimargi. Someone rigidly following
Pushtimarg could not make such a statement because Pushtimarg
was created in opposition to jnana marga groups like the Advaitins.
The
way that devotees among the second generation incorporate within
themselves both a Pushtimargi and a more generalized Hindu identity
will certainly involve a good deal of innovation and adaptation.
The question is whether, as Williams has noted in the context
of Swaminarayan Hinduism, this
innovation and adaptation can occur in the diaspora without
evolving away from the sampradaya's roots.
The next step for this project would be comparative studies
of the commitment and sense of bhakti that the second
generation feels in Pushtimarg, Swaminarayan and other sampradayic
forms of diasporic Hinduism. Bhakti in the Pushtimarg
sampradaya is the foundational element in seva to
Krishna. It is dependent on attachment to the deity, love for
the deity, and faith in the devotional path to God. Bhakti
must be inspired in the individual and sustained by religious
authorities who know how to touch the devotee's heart.
It remains to be seen whether second generation Pushtimargis
will continue to respect the descendants of Vallabhacharya,
to look to them for spiritual guidance, and continue the transmission
of tradition that is so fundamental to the survival of a sampradaya.
Works Cited
Barz,
Richard. The Bhakti Sect of Vallabhacarya. Delhi: Munshiram
Manoharlal, 1992.
Bennett,
Peter. The Path of Grace. Delhi: Hindustan Publishing
Corporation, 1993.
Hawley,
Jack. 'Global Hinduism in Gotham,' in Asian American
Religions: Borders and
Boundaries, eds. Tony Carnes and Fenang Yang.
New York: New York University Press,
forthcoming 2003.
the
American Tapestry. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1988.
The Ujjain temples that Bennett studied are significant in
the sampradaya and can be taken as standards of orthodoxy.
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