THE LOVER OF OUR SOULS 1996

Krishna had a thing for cowgirls.

It's true! In the literature of the epic period of Hindu history we find numerous stories about the Lord Krishna and his exploits with, well, cowgirls. The cowgirls in this literature are called the Gopis, and they quite clearly had a thing for Krishna, too.

I'd like to tell you one of these stories:

One night Krishna decided to go dancing with the gopis, so after midnight, he took his flute and went out into the woods and began to play.

You've heard of the pied piper? Can't hold a candle to Krishna! The Cowgirls went bonkers. They flew out of bed, made hasty excuses to their parents or their husbands and took off for the forest.

Now, when the gopis found Krishna, like the playful lover he is, he teased them, saying, "My goodness! How nice of you all to drop in on me like this! But really, it's a little late, and you should be in bed." This only made them laugh, because Krishna has never been one for following the rules or being discreet.

So then Krishna said, "The forest is a dangerous place with animals like tigers, bears, jackals, and wolves. Your families must be worried about you. You should hurry back home at once." This of course also made them laugh because they were in the presence of the supreme identity of the Godhead and they weren't the least bit worried about tigers.

Krishna kept teasing them and trying to get them to go home, and they finally got a little miffed at him and told him not to be so mean.

They said, "Krishna, We love You so much and You promised us we would have You as our husband." So then Krishna kissed them all and they started to romp through the forest, singing and dancing.

And then suddenly, Krishna was gone! He just disappeared.

Well the Gopis were dismayed and started to look everywhere for him. They broke out the flashlights and organized a search. But you know, when Krishna wants to hide...

Finally they gave up and just started to play. Then they started to play like they were Krishna! One of them pretended to be the demon Putana, and another became Krishna taking her milk. One gopi became a handcart and another kicked her legs as Krishna did in another myth to break the cart. One gopi played on a flute. They had a wonderful, wonderful time.

Then they got tired and they sat down and started chanting that "Hare Krishna" chant (It's very old!) And then suddenly ... there He was, standing before them!
Lord Krishna suddenly came out of hiding. The gopis made a seat for Him in the sand and put nice cloth over it. Sitting on the seat with the gopis, Krishna became even more beautiful. He said, "Sometimes I hide from you, but do not think I was away from you. I was very near and watching you. Please don't be disturbed. Just be happy."
And so Krishna began to dance hand in hand with the gopis. He put His hands on the shoulders of each gopi on both sides of Him. He danced with every one of them, though each one thought only she was dancing with Krishna.

(Now a lot of people think that the Rasa Dance, as this story is called, doesn't have anything to do with dancing, but with lovemaking, which really isn't all that different, really. And since each of the cowgirls felt like they had married Krishna that night, there might be something to that.)

After the Rasa Dance finished, just an hour or two before sunrise, Krishna said, "It is time to leave." They did not want to go, but they did. And they were all ecstatic, because for one unbelievable night, they had each been Krishna's lover.

This is a wonderful story, and it obviously has a lot to say to us and human beings or it wouldn't have been around so long. What does this dancing figure of Krishna have to say to us? Why does he delight us? Why does he provoke us? Why does he make US want to dance?

I can't give any kind of definitive answer to these questions, but I can offer some suggestions. Mechtild of Magdeburg, a medieval Christian mystic, once said, "The day of my spiritual awakening was the day I saw-and knew I saw-all things in God, and God in all things." Now when she said this, she wasn't just talking about forests and streams; she was also talking about human beings. We are as much a part of the divine as the foam on the waves and the songs of birds.

When the gopis started to reenact the stories they knew of Krishna, they made him present in their midst. They were, in a sense, having church, playing out the roles of their myths with their own bodies and imaginations, making them new, and real, and something that truly belonged to them. They became Krishna for each other, and their play continued.

Meister Eckhardt says that we are all to be Mary; that we are all to give birth to Christ in our own time, in ourselves, in our community. Therefore all of Creation is what is called in theological terms, a "theophony," the incarnation of God, and we are all avatars, the incarnations of God on Earth. The Tao Te Ching says that "the Tao unites with all of dust," and when I receive ashes on Ash Wednesday I am reminded that I am that dust. So are you.

When Evangelical writer Tony Campolo said that he saw Jesus in every person he met, he was put on trial for heresy. I say, "Cheers!" to you, Tony Campolo. You are in better company with the heretics.

Let us join Tony Campolo in believing Jesus when he said, "What you do to the least of these you do to me." God is in us as assuredly as God ever was in Jesus of Nazareth, or in Krishna the cow-herder, or any other of the traditional forms in which we hear the truth spoken. And the truth is this: that God has come to Earth, and is walking among us.

Why is this important to us? I think we have had enough of the old white male in the sky kind of God. We don't need a God who is away out there, is keeping a tally of our mistakes and is gonna get us when we die. Such a notion is NOT conducive to an attitude of trust to people in our society. We no longer relate to the idea of a King sitting on a throne as the head of our government, trusting that he has our "best interests" in mind.

We have evolved into a democracy, where the power is held in the hands of the people, and we now long, not for a God of power and might, but one of immediacy and intimacy. We want a God who with cry with us and hold us to her breast, not one who rides out of the sky on a white horse to conquer our enemies. We want intimacy, we want warmth, and most of all, we want HUMANITY.

The stories of Jesus are testament to this intuition: we need a God who bleeds, cries, and dies. We need a God who understands our pain and our fears. The stories of Krishna tell of a God full of sensuality, who loves music, and lovemaking, and play. These are Gods we can use, Gods that make sense to us, because they speak to the heart of what it means to be human.

The Jungian Psychologist Robert A. Johnson wrote about a journey to India.
He said, "A friend took me to Calcutta, the darkest city of India, dedicated to Kali, the goddess of destruction, the most horrific of the goddesses. My friend left me there for three days alone while he went to visit his parents in a section of India forbidden to foreigners. I was not afraid of India by that time but I had not reckoned on the terrors of Calcutta. Soon my courage was eroded away and I could not stand one more amputated arm thrust into my ribs or another corpse to step over on the street. The final straw was woman who thrust a dead baby into my arms in hopes that I could restore it to life for her. I have rarely been totally defeated in my life but this was such an event.

"I started to go to pieces, and it was the only time in India I have ever been overwhelmed by the darkness of it. In my anguish all I needed was somebody-somebody to be close to, somebody to hear me, somebody to talk to. I know what to do... It is a custom in India that you can go to another person-anyone, man or woman, young or old, stranger on the street, trusted friend, anyone-and ask that person if he or she will be the incarnation of God for you... So I went off to the park, began looking around, chose a middle-aged Indian of serene face, dressed in traditional Indian clothing, and went up to him.

The first question was, 'Do you speak English?' 'Yes.' Second question, 'Will you be the incarnation of God for me?' He looked me straight in the eye-rare-and said, 'Yes.' So for twenty minutes the dam broke and I poured out my fright an my misery and my loneliness, and the anguish of three days of Calcutta which had been accumulating in me. I felt better. I just needed somebody, some human being to parallel or to understand or to walk with me for a minute, and bear this anguish of an intensity that I'd never known before."

We must all be the incarnation of God for each other. We much incarnate the lover of our souls by comforting one another, by feeding one another, by supporting and understanding one another. There is a song that says, "Jesus has no hands on Earth but yours." Jesus has no hands on Earth but yours.

Therefore, I say to you, welcome, my God and savior. As we see God in the stars, in the pageantry of the forest, let us also see Divinity in one another.

If you will close your eyes, and center yourself, I invite you to call up an image: not of an angry father or a scolding teacher, but of your dearest and most trusted friend. In your mind's eye, go to them and embrace them, and ask them to be the incarnation of God for you. They say yes. Now, what would you like to say to God? Say it. This is your friend. The one that loves you completely, the one that understands. Say what you have been needing to say all of your life, while the piano plays softly...

Now return to the room, bringing your incarnation of God with you.

(Wow! It's suddenly pretty crowded in here!)

Robert Johnson's story has an ending. After he poured his heart out to this old man, he said, "[The old man] helped just by listening. He was the incarnation of God for me. I thanked him and told him that I had recovered my manners and was sorry about this outburst.

I said, "And now please tell me who you are." He gave me his name, which was unrememberable and, and said, quite simply, "I am a [Catholic] priest."

Now, there are very few Christians in India, and certainly very, very few priests. And of all the people in Calcutta I could have asked to be the incarnation of God for me," he says, "I had picked out a Roman Catholic priest!" I was just astonished. He took me by the hand, got lunch for me, paid for it before I could function, bade me good-bye, and walked off."

Proving, of course, that God come to us in the most unlikely people. Why not in you?