Incorporation of ISKCON in New York
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The International Society for Krishna
Consciousness has potential as a peaceful extra-governmental force for this kind
of change, nationally and internationally. In 1966, Çréla Prabhupäda included in
ISKCON’s articles of incorporation a far-reaching statement of the movement’s
purposes. Among them: “To bring the members closer together for the purpose of
teaching a simpler, more natural way of life.”
Çréla Prabhupäda did not, however, recommend high-pressure lobbying. Instead, he
emphasized the establishment of self-sufficient agrarian communities. “If these
farm projects are successful,” he wrote to a disciple in 1975, “then all this
industry will be closed. We do not have to make propaganda, but automatically
people will not want [it].” Çréla Prabhupäda also envisioned gardenlike towns
that would be more habitable than today’s cities and suburbs.
People want a secure and satisfying way of life. If they can be shown attractive
alternatives to life in industrial society, they will make the right choices. In
the long run, this is more effective than organizing campaigns to curb toxic
emissions from factories.
Most environmental problems, such as global warming, are so expansive that even
national governments are unable to confront them alone. Coordinated efforts by
many nations—indeed, all nations—seem to be required.
The United Nations, therefore, is becoming more active in environmental issues
and related causes, such as sustainable economic growth. Some propose giving the
Security Council a mandate to deal with environmental problems. Others have
suggested creating a separate UN Ecological Council, with powers like those of
the Security Council.3
With help from the UN, many assume, the magnitude of the world’s environmental
crisis will compel nations to cooperate. But environmental issues may simply
become another source of dispute and conflict. We already see this happening.
Developing countries often resist calls from developed ones to slow industrial
growth for the sake of the environment. A country may even resort to
environmental warfare, as Iraq did by burning hundreds of oil wells during the
Gulf War of 1991.
So, despite collective efforts on all levels, the environmental crisis deepens.
The number of extinctions and endangered species increases. Rain forests and
other kinds of forests continue to be lost. Large-scale mechanized agriculture,
operating with chemical pesticides and fertilizers, degrades more and more of
the earth’s arable lands. Mountains of trash keep piling up in the developed
nations of the world, as recycling efforts fail, partly because of lack of a
market for recycled materials. No really safe ways to dispose of toxic and
nuclear waste have yet been found. Despite decades of government regulation,
levels of water pollution and air pollution remain intolerably high.
Further, the problems of global warming and ozone depletion have compelled
nations to conclude that drastic measures are required. But governments appear
to lack the will to institute such measures. For example, in 1992 heads of the
world’s nations met in Rio de Janeiro at an environmental summit meeting. They
watered down the centerpiece of the conference, a treaty on global warming. They
also struck down rules that would have mandated lower emissions of carbon
dioxide. They met again in 1997, but again little was accomplished.
Most collective attempts to cope with pollution rely on end-of-the-pipeline
control and treatment rather than prevention. This approach has not, however,
succeeded. A way has to be found, it seems, to stop pollution at its source, but
this has proved almost impossible. One difficulty is that most individual and
collective attempts fail to recognize the philosophical dimensions of the
problem. Our environmental crisis has its roots in incorrect and imperfect
conceptions of the self and the universe. When we understand our true spiritual
nature, our unlimited urge to consume things and to produce things for
consumption can be curbed. The natural result will be a better environment in
which to pursue spiritual growth instead of excessive economic growth.
(Divine Nature book. DN 3:2. BBT 1998.)
“We shall call our society ISKCON." Prabhupäda had laughed playfully when he
first coined the acronym.
He had initiated the legal work of incorporation that spring, while still living
on the Bowery. But even before its legal beginning, he had been talking about
his “International Society for Krishna Consciousness," and so it had appeared in
letters to India and in The Village Voice. A friend had suggested a title that
would sound more familiar to Westerners, “International Society for God
Consciousness," but Prabhupäda had insisted: “Krishna Consciousness." “God" was
a vague term, whereas “Krishna" was exact and scientific; “God consciousness"
was spiritually weaker, less personal. And if Westerners didn't know that Kåñëa
was God, then the International Society for Krishna Consciousness would tell
them, by spreading His glories “in every town and village."
“Kåñëa consciousness" was Prabhupäda's own rendering of a phrase from Çréla Rüpa
Gosvämé's Padyävali, written in the sixteenth century. Kåñëa-bhakti-rasa-bhävita:
“to be absorbed in the mellow taste of executing devotional service to Kåñëa."
But to register ISKCON legally as a nonprofit, tax-exempt religion required
money and a lawyer. Carl Yeargens had already gained some experience in forming
religious, political, and social welfare groups, and when he had met Prabhupäda
on the Bowery he had agreed to help. He had contacted his lawyer, Stephen
Goldsmith.
Stephen Goldsmith, a young Jewish lawyer with a wife and two children and an
office on Park Avenue, was interested in spiritual movements. When Carl told him
about Prabhupäda's plans, he was immediately fascinated by the idea of setting
up a religious corporation for an Indian swami. He visited Prabhupäda at 26
Second Avenue, and they discussed incorporation, tax exemption, Prabhupäda's
immigration status, and Kåñëa consciousness. Mr. Goldsmith visited Prabhupäda
several times. Once he brought his children, who liked the “soup" the Swami
cooked. He began attending the evening lectures, where he was often the only
nonhippie member of the congregation. One evening, having completed all the
legal groundwork and being ready to complete the procedures for incorporation,
Mr. Goldsmith came to Prabhupäda's lecture and kértana to get signatures from
the trustees for the new society.
July 11
Prabhupäda is lecturing.
Mr. Goldsmith, wearing slacks and a shirt and tie, sits on the floor near the
door, listening earnestly to the lecture, despite the distracting noises from
the neighborhood. Prabhupäda has been explaining how scholars mislead innocent
people with nondevotional interpretations of the Bhagavad-gétä, and now, in
recognition of the attorney's respectable presence, and as if to catch Mr.
Goldsmith's attention better, he introduces him into the subject of the talk.
I will give you a practical example of how things are misinterpreted. Just like
our president, Mr. Goldsmith, he knows that expert lawyers, by interpretation,
can do so many things. When I was in Calcutta, there was a rent tax passed by
the government, and some expert lawyer changed the whole thing by his
interpretation. The government had to reenact a whole law because their purpose
was foiled by the interpretation of this lawyer. So we are not out for foiling
the purpose of Kåñëa, for which the Bhagavad-gétä was spoken. But unauthorized
persons are trying to foil the purpose of Kåñëa. Therefore, that is
unauthorized.
All right, Mr. Goldsmith, you can ask anything.
Mr. Goldsmith stands, and to the surprise of the people gathered, he makes a
short announcement asking for signers on an incorporation document for the
Swami's new religious movement.
Prabhupäda: They are present here. You can take the addresses now.
Mr. Goldsmith: I can take them now, yes.
Prabhupäda: Yes, you can. Bill, you can give your address. And Raphael, you can
give yours. And Don… Roy… Mr. Greene.
As the meeting breaks up, those called on to sign as trustees come forward,
standing around in the little storefront, waiting to leaf cursorily through the
pages the lawyer has produced from his thin attache, and to sign as he directs.
Yet not a soul among them is committed to Kåñëa consciousness.
Mr. Goldsmith meets his quota of signers—a handful of sympathizers with enough
reverence toward the Swami to want to help him. The first trustees, who will
hold office for a year, “until the first annual meeting of the corporation," are
Michael Grant (who puts down his name and address without ever reading the
document), Mike's girl friend Jan, and James Greene. No one seriously intends to
undertake any formal duties as trustee of the religious society, but they are
happy to help the Swami by signing his fledgling society into legal existence.
According to law, a second group of trustees will assume office for the second
year. They are Paul Gardiner, Roy, and Don. The trustees for the third year are
Carl Yeargens, Bill Epstein, and Raphael.
None of them know exactly what the half a dozen, legal-sized typed pages mean,
except that “Swamiji is forming a society."
Why?
For tax exemption, in case someone gives a big donation, and for other benefits
an official religious society might receive.
But these purposes hardly seem urgent or even relevant to the present situation.
Who's going to make donations? Except maybe for Mr. Goldsmith, who has any
money?
But Prabhupäda is planning for the future, and he's planning for much more than
just tax exemptions. He is trying to serve his spiritual predecessors and
fulfill the scriptural prediction of a spiritual movement that is to flourish
for ten thousand years in the midst of the Age of Kali. Within the vast Kali Age
(a period which is to last 432,000 years), the 1960s are but an insignificant
moment.
The Vedas describe that the time of the universe revolves through a cycle of
four “seasons," or yugas, and Kali-yuga is the worst of times, in which all
spiritual qualities of men diminish until humanity is finally reduced to a
bestial civilization, devoid of human decency. However, the Vedic literature
foretells a golden age of spiritual life, beginning after the advent of Lord
Caitanya and lasting for ten thousand years—an eddy that runs against the
current of Kali-yuga. With a vision that soars off to the end of the millennium
and beyond, yet with his two feet solidly on the ground of Second Avenue,
Prabhupäda has begun an International Society for Krishna Consciousness. He has
many practical responsibilities: paying the rent, incorporating his society, and
paving the way for a thriving worldwide congregation of devotees. Yet he doesn't
see his humble beginning as limiting the greater scope of his divine mission. He
knows that everything depends on Kåñëa, so whether he succeeds or fails is up to
the Supreme. He has only to try.
The purposes stated within ISKCON's articles of incorporation reveal
Prabhupäda's thinking. They were seven points, similar to those given in the
Prospectus for the League of Devotees he formed in Jhansi, India, in 1953. That
attempt had been unsuccessful, yet his purposes remained unchanged.
Seven Purposes of the International Society for Krishna Consciousness:
(a)To systematically propagate spiritual knowledge to society at large and to
educate all peoples in the techniques of spiritual life in order to check the
imbalance of values in life and to achieve real unity and peace in the world.
(b)To propagate a consciousness of Krishna, as it is revealed in the Bhagavad
Gétä and Çrémad Bhagwatam.
(c)To bring the members of the Society together with each other and nearer to
Krishna, the prime entity, thus to develop the idea within the members, and
humanity at large, that each soul is part and parcel of the quality of Godhead
(Krishna).
(d)To teach and encourage the sankirtan movement, congregational chanting of the
holy name of God as revealed in the teachings of Lord Sri Chaitanya Mahaprabhu.
(e)To erect for the members and for society at large, a holy place of
transcendental pastimes, dedicated to the Personality of Krishna.
(f)To bring the members closer together for the purpose of teaching a simpler
and more natural way of life.
(g)With a view towards achieving the aforementioned Purposes, to publish and
distribute periodicals, magazines, books and other writings.
Regardless of what ISKCON's charter members thought of the society's purposes,
Prabhupäda saw them as imminent realities. As Mr. Ruben, the subway conductor
who had met Prabhupäda on a Manhattan park bench in 1965, had noted: “He seemed
to know that he would have temples filled up with devotees. “There are temples
and books,' he said. “They are existing, they are there, but the time is
separating us from them.'"
The first purpose mentioned in the charter was propagation. “Preaching" was the
word Prabhupäda most often used. For him, preaching had a much broader
significance than mere sermonizing. Preaching meant glorious, selfless
adventures on behalf of the Supreme Lord. Lord Caitanya had preached by walking
all over southern India and causing thousands of people to chant and dance with
Him in ecstasy. Lord Kåñëa had preached the Bhagavad-gétä while standing with
Arjuna in his chariot on the battlefield of Kurukñetra. Lord Buddha had
preached, Lord Jesus had preached, and all pure devotees preach.
ISKCON's preaching would achieve what the League of Nations and the United
Nations had failed to achieve—“real unity and peace in the world." ISKCON
workers would bring peace to a world deeply afflicted by materialism and strife.
They would “systematically propagate spiritual knowledge," knowledge of the
nonsectarian science of God. It was not that a new religion was being born in
July of 1966; rather, the eternal preaching of Godhead, known as saìkértana, was
being transplanted from East to West.
The society's members would join together, and by hearing the teachings of
Bhagavad-gétä and Çrémad-Bhägavatam and by chanting the Hare Kåñëa mantra, they
would come to realize that each was a spirit soul, eternally related to Kåñëa,
the Supreme Personality of Godhead. They would then preach this to “humanity at
large," especially through saìkértana, the chanting of the holy name of God.
ISKCON would also erect “a holy place of transcendental pastimes dedicated to
the Personality of Krishna." Was this something beyond the storefront? Yes,
certainly. He never thought small: “He seemed to know that he would have temples
filled up with devotees."
He wanted ISKCON to demonstrate “a simple, more natural way of life." Such a
life (Prabhupäda thought of the villages of India, where people lived just as
Kåñëa had lived) was most conducive to developing Kåñëa consciousness.
And all six of these purposes would be achieved by the seventh: ISKCON would
publish and distribute literature. This was the special instruction Çréla
Bhaktisiddhänta Sarasvaté Öhäkura had given to Çréla Prabhupäda. He had
specifically told him one day in 1932 at Rädhä-kuëòa in Våndävana, “If you ever
get any money, publish books."
Certainly none of the signers saw any immediate shape to the Swami's dream, yet
these seven purposes were not simply theistic rhetoric invented to convince a
few New York State government officials. Prabhupäda meant to enact every item in
the charter.
Of course, he was now working in extremely limited circumstances. “The principal
place of worship, located at 26 Second Avenue, in the city, county, and state of
New York," was the sole headquarters for the International Society for Krishna
Consciousness. Yet Prabhupäda insisted that he was not living at 26 Second
Avenue, New York City. His vision was transcendental. His Guru Mahäräja had gone
out from the traditional holy places of spiritual meditation to preach in cities
like Calcutta, Bombay, and Delhi. And yet Prabhupäda would say that his
spiritual master had not really been living in any of those cities, but was
always in Vaikuëöha, the spiritual world, because of his absorption in
devotional service.
Similarly, the place of worship, 26 Second Avenue, was not a New York
storefront, a former curiosity shop. The storefront and the apartment had been
spiritualized and were now a transcendental haven. “Society at large" could come
here, the whole world could take shelter here, regardless of race or religion.
Plain, small, and impoverished as it was, Prabhupäda regarded the storefront as
“a holy place of transcendental pastimes, dedicated to the Personality of
Krishna." It was a world headquarters, a publishing house, a sacred place of
pilgrimage, and a center from which an army of devotees could issue forth and
chant the holy names of God in all the streets in the world. The entire universe
could receive Kåñëa consciousness from the International Society for Krishna
Consciousness, which was beginning here.
(Satswarup dasa Goswami. Prabhupada-lilamrita. Ch 18. Breaking Ground.)
Çréla Prabhupäda would often say of his devotional service in India, “Våndävana
is my residence, Bombay is my office, and Mäyäpur is where I worship the Supreme
Personality of Godhead."
Bombay is the biggest commercial city in India. Prabhupäda's “business" was pure
devotional service to Kåñëa, and in Bombay he dealt more with the managerial
aspects of Kåñëa consciousness in India. He had incorporated ISKCON in India
with the main branch in Bombay. All other branches of ISKCON in India,
therefore, were legally part of the Bombay incorporation. In Bombay, Prabhupäda
had cultivated more lawyers and businessmen as life members and earned more
friends of his Society than in any other city in India. So whenever he was in
Bombay, he often sought legal advice, not just about the Bombay center but also
about his other affairs in India.
Since Bombay was a modern city with professional and office facilities on a
level with many Western cities, Prabhupäda wanted to locate the Indian division
of his Book Trust there, for printing Hindi translations of his books as well as
English versions for the Indian market. Bombay, unlike Våndävana and Mäyäpur,
was not a dhäma but a bustling, wealthy city. ISKCON's biggest donors lived
there. Although Çréla Prabhupäda's demeanor was entirely transcendental in
Bombay, and his activities were often the same as elsewhere—speaking on
Bhagavad-gétä and Çrémad-Bhägavatam and worshiping the Deity—nevertheless,
Prabhupäda called it his office. And though it was his office, he wanted a
temple there.
“Mäyäpur," Prabhupäda said, “is where I worship the Supreme Personality of
Godhead." Prabhupäda conceived of a temple to be built in Mäyäpur that would be
the grandest of all temples in his movement. He and his devotees would worship
the Supreme Lord there in such a magnificent style that the whole world would be
attracted to Prabhupäda's place of worship, the Mayapur Chandrodaya Mandir.
According to the Çrémad-Bhägavatam, the prescribed worship for this age is
saìkértana, the chanting of the holy names of God. Saìkértana worship emanated
from Mäyäpur, the original dhäma of Lord Caitanya. “In the age of Kali," states
Çrémad-Bhägavatam, “Lord Kåñëa appears in a golden form, as Lord Caitanya, and
His activity is to chant Hare Kåñëa. People with sufficient intelligence will
worship Him in this form." Çréla Prabhupäda wanted to make the most wonderful
worship of Caitanya Mahäprabhu in His birthplace and thus completely fulfill the
predictions of the previous äcäryas, who foresaw a great Vedic city rising from
the plains of Navadvépa.
Mäyäpur could also be considered Prabhupäda's place of worship because his
spiritual master, Bhaktisiddhänta Sarasvaté, had preached extensively there and
because his samädhi was there. Since Çréla Prabhupäda's entire preaching mission
was in the service of his spiritual master, he worshiped his spiritual master
through preaching in Mäyäpur. Mäyäpur was the origin and symbol of preaching
Kåñëa consciousness, because there Lord Caitanya and Nityänanda actually began
the saìkértana move ment that Prabhupäda was now carrying all over the world.
Çré Caitanya Mahäprabhu wanted to preach the saìkértana movement of love of
Kåñëa throughout the entire world, and therefore during His presence He inspired
the saìkértana movement. Specifically, He sent Rüpa Gosvämé to Våndävana and
Nityänanda to Bengal and personally went to South India. In this way He kindly
left the task of preaching His cult in the rest of the world to the
International Society for Krishna Consciousness.
Våndävana is Prabhupäda's residence. Religious people in India as well as
religious scholars in the West saw Prabhupäda as a Vaiñëava sädhu—from Våndävana.
When he began his preaching in New York City, he would often introduce himself
as “coming from Våndävana." “Here I am now sitting in New York," he once said,
“the world's greatest city, but my heart is always hankering after that
Våndävana. I shall be very happy to return to my Våndävana, that sacred place."
The people of Våndävana also thought of Prabhupäda as their hometown success.
Upon retiring from family life in 1954, Prabhupäda had gone to live in Våndävana,
first at a temple near Keçi-ghäöa and then at the Rädhä-Dämodara temple. After
taking sannyäsa in 1959, he had continued to reside in Våndävana and, when not
living there, to reserve his two rooms at Rädhä-Dämodara.
Våndävana is the home of Kåñëa consciousness, the place of Kåñëa's childhood
pastimes, the place where the six Gosvämés, sent by Lord Caitanya, had excavated
holy places, written transcendental literature, and built temples. Any devotee
could feel at home there, and thousands of Våndävana's residents carried bead
bags, chanted Hare Kåñëa, and wore the Vaiñëava tilaka and dress. Våndävana
belonged to Rädhä and Kåñëa, and this was still acknowledged by the residents of
the present-day Våndävana.
Ultimately, Våndävana is revealed only to the pure devotee. Våndävana is the
eternal residence of all spiritual souls in their eternal relationship with
Kåñëa. The Våndävana in India is a transcendental replica of Goloka Våndävana,
the eternal planet where Kåñëa resides in the spiritual world. The pure devotees
aspire to attain to Goloka Våndävana after finishing their life in this world,
and Prabhupäda, therefore, as a pure devotee of Kåñëa, naturally felt at home in
Våndävana. He sometimes said that if he were to become very ill, he would prefer
not to go to a hospital but to simply go to Våndävana and there pass his last
days. To spread the glories of Våndävana, Prabhupäda had left Våndävana, but
like a traveler away from home, he always thought of returning.
(Satswarup dasa Goswami. Prabhupada-lilamrita. SPL44 - Let there be a temple.)
Note:: Special thanks to Jaya Tirtha Caran prabhu from NZ for allowing us to use some of the content from his site to compile these pages - http://www.hknet.org.nz
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