Religious Romanticism: rationality need not apply

“One of the most irrational of all the conventions of modern society is the one to the effect that religious opinions should be respected. …[This] convention protects them, and so they proceed with their blather unwhipped and almost unmolested, to the great damage of common sense and common decency. that they should have this immunity is an outrage. There is nothing in religious ideas, as a class, to lift them above other ideas. On the contrary, they are always dubious and often quite silly. Nor is there any visible intellectual dignity in theologians. Few of them know anything that is worth knowing, and not many of them are even honest.”
– H.L. Mencken, American Journalist and cultural critic
“In the morning I bathe my intellect in the stupendous and cosmogonal philosophy of the Bhagvat Geeta, since whose composition years of the gods have elapsed, and in comparison with which our modern world and its literature seem puny and trivial; and I doubt if that philosophy is not to be referred to a previous state of existence, so remote is its sublimity from our conceptions. I lay down the book and go to my well for water, and lo! there I meet the servant of the Bramin, priest of Brahma and Vishnu and Indra, who still sits in his temple on the Ganges reading the Vedas, or dwells at the root of a tree with his crust and water jug. I meet his servant come to draw water for his master, and our buckets as it were grate together in the same well. The pure Walden water is mingled with the sacred water of the Ganges.”
– Henry David Thoreau, Walden 

When I was a freshman in high school (around 2005-06), the “New Atheist” movement was beginning to take hold on the internet and in real life. For those who may not know, New Atheism approximately began with Richard Dawkin’s book The God Delusion and soon snow balled into many more authors with many of their own books and ideas. Along with Dawkins, the other big authors included the late Christopher Hitchens, Sam Harris, and Daniel Dennett. Now, atheists (as we define them today) have existed since organized religion and theology began, and non-religious rationalism really took hold during the Age of Enlightenment; but what differentiated the New Atheists from the non-believers of centuries past was their approach to religious belief. No longer was there to be any respect or mutual understanding between relgiious and non-religious world views. Instead, religion was outdated, barbaric, and those who adhered to it were stuck in the dark ages. Non-belief in religion was a sign of a superior intellect and essentially should be the next stage in human cultural and social evolution.  While these ideas still exist to this day, I’d say that the prevalence of New Atheist ideals, by in large, fizzled out from the mainstream around 2011-12.

I bring this up, because in high school I was the quintessential angry teenage atheist. Angry at God for being cruel. Angry at Christians for being anti-gay, anti-woman, and anti-science. Above all else, I was angry at the irrationality of religion and couldn’t understand how people could still believe in all of that in the then current year of 2006. When Richard Dawkins and New Atheism at large came onto the scene, it was a field day for me. “Yeah, this will show them how stupid their beliefs are!”

Lo and behold, nearly 10 years later and I now know that is not at all true. There is a deep history and study of scholasticism in the western religious traditions (Thomas Aquinas comes into mind) and the great Acharyas of India made debate and logic into an art form in and of themselves. Religion and theology aren’t just something which exist for stupid people to blindly follow. There’s a deep philosophy at their core and profoundly deep reasons as to why some theologies stuck around and others faded away. Does this mean that blind faith doesn’t exist? Of course not, but it certainly flies into the face of the idea that religion is inherently irrational.


I’d love to see Adi Sankara and Dawkins debate. Pay money, even. 


Yet with that said, a question comes to mind: Why is it so bad if religion is potentially irrational?

I don’t mean that scholasticism and scholars of religion shouldn’t exist and do their jobs. In this day and age, experts of religion are still very much needed. But in the actual practice of religion, why is it bad that the beliefs themselves “don’t make sense?”

The average person isn’t a scholar. Regardless if they follow the same religion in which they were raised or converted to another, the majority of people know why they believe, but can’t define it by logic or empirical means. For many atheists, this is a point of contention in which religion becomes mute. Yet you know who would probably agree with me? The great mystics and saints of the past and now. For these great men and women, despite the reality of the world, there was an undeniable essence behind it all. Many of whom went against the norms of their age to transcend the boundaries and reach the Divine in any way they can. They were, at best, highly “irrational” in their beliefs and perspectives. However, they still were challenging the very notions of what faith, God, love, and theology mean. Many of whom are still big influences in this day and age  (Teresa of AvilaIgnatius of LoyolaChaitanya Mahaprabhu, and Ramakrishna). In their irrationality of belief, the world suddenly makes sense.

I’d make the argument that theology has a scholastic postulate, but faith in and of itself is at its core romantic. We can argue ’til we’re blue in the face as to how God can exist or the importance of certain theological points. But in the end, for the average believer, it’s the “why” that trumps the “how.” Emotion and love which trumps the mind and the objective. Besides, there are plenty of irrational things which exist in this world, yet are often lauded and celebrated. Art, love, poetry, and philosophy are what immediately come to mind.

Art and poetry are so subjective and can greatly challenge the norms of a given time. Love has brought great men and even empires to it’s knees, and often the only thing it can promise is a broken heart. Yet, love is something that most people yearn for and crave more than anything else. Philosophy, one of the bedrocks of western civilization, starting all the way back in ancient Greece, asks questions which can never be truly answered, yet people can and will accept them without question. Who the hell knows if there truly are multiple universes or if all matter is only made of one substance?

Does this mean that religion is off limits from criticism? Of course not. There are plenty of things about religion which have been rightly criticized and reformed over the years. However, when keeping that in mind, perhaps it’s those in power who have used religion to harm others that is the problem. Not the mere belief of the average citizen just trying to make it in life.

A Hindu attraction to the Blessed Virgin Mary.

“For behold, from henceforth : all generations shall call me blessed. For he that is mighty hath magnified me : and holy is his Name. And his mercy is on them that fear him : throughout all generations. He hath shewed strength with his arm : he hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.”
– The Magnificat of Mary, Book of Common prayer

I was raised Southern Baptist. A denomination so iconoclastic that even evangelicals would tell them to clam down. Growing up, I was told that anything even remotely resembling Catholicism was perverting the truth of Christs gospel. Never mind Catholics themselves, who were pretty much the epitome of evil. I had no idea of the Saints, Sacraments, the mass, the many devotionals, the rosary, mortal or venial sin, or the varying religious orders. All I knew was that they were all a bunch of “Mary Worshippers.” Now that I’m Hindu, I have no attraction towards Jesus, the church, or the Bible (not anymore, at least).

Yet, try as I might, I cannot shake my strong, almost obsessive, attraction to the Blessed Virgin Mary. More specifically to Our Lady of Seven Sorrows.


How can something so morbid be so spiritually beautiful? 

Like I said, I have absolutely no attraction to Jesus or to many other parts of Christianity. Yet, I cannot deny that I feel a burning love for his mother. So much so, that I find myself going to Catholic churches on her feast days or just to light a candle on one of her altars. I have a couple of rosaries and am even considering purchasing a small statue of her. However, make no mistake, this isn’t me syncretizing Christianity with Hinduism. I do not hold the Bible as authoritative or believe Jesus to be God. If this is the case, then why do I have such a deep love for Mary?

I honestly do not know. I was not raised Catholic, so I don’t have a nostalgic fondness for her. I don’t believe her to be an incarnation of Devi, but have no problem having her alongside Durga, Lakshmi, or Kali. When I look into her eyes, I see a love for her son and for the world that is as intense as those from Hinduism. The love of a mother, who grieves for the suffering of the world. Who prays for us and wants us to turn to her for comfort. In my times of sorrow, I turn to the Divine Mother (in her many forms) and know that I am not alone. Mary is just another one of those mothers.

I know very well that this isn’t a part of traditional Hinduism. Those who are more orthodox will see this kind of devotion as outside of what is normative or even “watering down” Hinduism. Yet at the same time, this isn’t as uncommon as one might think. Regardless of this, Hinduism has a history of existing alongside other religions and in many cases mixed and intermingled with other practices. How else do you think Hinduism moved from a Vedic to a predominately more Puranic/Bhakti practice? Mary is not going to be considered a goddess in our religion any time soon. And rest assured, she is not going to take over or replace the many other goddesses. Our religion isn’t going to be destroyed if some people venerate a figure outside of its traditions. 

Hail Mary, full of grace. Pray for us, now and at the hour of our death.

A Mother’s pain.

Oh Devaki, Queen of Vasudeva.
Mother of the most beautiful one.
How your heart must have sank in the wake of your son’s deaths.
Child after child, taken by the dreadful Kamsa,
Innocents who did not deserve their fate.
Child after child not knowing what to do,
until one day He came.

He is Lord Vishnu; Narayana on earth.
One day he will be your liberator.
But until that day,
Your baby boy must go away.
Across the river He will leave,
guided by Adi-Shesha.
Raised by another, until you are free.
Until then, cry your tears of pain and joy,
Awaiting His return.

Blessed Mary, Queen of Heaven,
What a joy it is to hold God in your arms.
But also what pain it must be,
to know what will befall Him.
You know what must happen,
for humanity to be rejoined with Him,
But the pain still remains.

Continue to hold Him.
Love Him and protect Him.
One day He will feed the people,
and preach the Kingdom of God to all.
He will be hated, despised, loved and admired.
A victim, a leader, the one who will lead all.
As you hold Him now, so shall you at the foot of the cross.
Cry, oh most Holy Lady,
The sorrows for Your son running down your face.

      Photo via Google                                            Photo by me taken at Socorro Mission

One foot in each world.

Over the past year and a half, a lot has happened in regards to LGBT rights in the United States. Namely that same-sex marriage was federally legalized. However, there are new challenges that have come up. Specifically in regards to Transpeople and a seemingly new wave of violence against LGBT. I myself, while being gay, tend to be politically moderate and stay out of queer identify politics and act mostly as an observer. In doing that, I realized something about myself.

As a gay man who is also Hindu, I occupy a strange place. While I exist and navigate both worlds, a part of me knows that I may not fully be “a part of” each community either.

Let me go further into detail.

On the gay side, there is a lot of confusion as to why someone who is gay would ever believe in God or belong to a religious community. There is a lot of hurt that LGBT people have faced from religion, and in the US, non-Abrahamic religions aren’t really well known; or there are a lot of misconceptions about them. It doesn’t matter that I don’t believe in hell, or that Devi/God thinks I’m evil. Religion is still religion and religion hates LGBT. Furthermore, since I don’t show off my sexuality or wear it on my sleeve, I’ve been called “self-hating” who “wants to go back in the closet” and “live a life of heteronormative privilege” (whatever that is). When Hinduism is talked about, more often times than not it is seen as a very conservative faith that doesn’t celebrate sexuality (and in a lot cases that is kind of true).

On the flipside, I can never really be “open” in the Hindu world. I know that there are many opened minded Hindus, and that temple isn’t really a place for “showing off” ones personal life, but it would be amazing to bring my future husband and not have it be a general issue. Or, even better, to have a big, stereotypical South Indian wedding in a big temple with all of the traditional pomp and circumstance. Of course, such weddings exist, but they are still met with contention from a lot of people. Even the reaction to my friend’s viral engagment was generally mixed.

In this, I find myself occupying a kind of limbo. Almost like a representative for both sides when the circumstance calls for it. On the LGBT side it’s to show that, even though I’m fairly religious, that I’m not some self-hating homophobe who worships snakes or cows. On the Hindu side, for those who know I’m gay anyway, it’s to show that I’m not an evil person who is out to “destroy Hindu culture” or only engages in “illicit relations”.

Yet, at the same time, I only really have one foot in each world. I don’t need affirmation in either my sexuality or faith, but they are still a part of my being and while I have no internal issue with either, trying to navigate through both communities can be uneventful at best or daunting at worst. In a way, perhaps it’s a blessing and not so much a curse. I know where I stand and am building a strong foundation which doesn’t need constant adulation from others (the irony of making this post not being lost on me).

I know who I am and that’s all one can really ask for.

What are my religious beliefs? A general overview.

Over the past 3-ish years, I have started and restarted blogs with varying degrees of (non) success. Each one reflecting what I, at varying times, felt accurately related to my spiritual or ideological beliefs.

The first time around as a left-leaning Buddhist.

The second time around as an Advaita Hindu.

Now, as a center right-ish Vadakalai Hindu.

How did I get to this point? What is it that I believe now and how does it differ from even a year ago.

Like I had mentioned in my previous post , in 2014 I began the initiation process of formally coming into Hinduism. Specifically as a Vadakalai Sri Vaishnava. I received Upanayana (the sacred thread) into studying the Vedas and learning rituals. I was at a bit of a disadvantage in this, because this happened when I was 23. Boys who get this in India, historically, got it when they were much younger. Additionally, they grew up surrounded by the culture and experience it fully. I would be lying if I said I didn’t struggle (or still struggle) with my spiritual life since receiving the thread, but I pushed forward for the first year and marched on.

Photo by Biswarup Ganguly via Wikimedia Commons 


In March of this year, I went through a massive crisis of faith; so much so that there were a couple of points where I was seriously considering if I even belonged in Hinduism at all. I was looking at different churches (namely Catholic and Anglican) and synagogues and speaking with religious leaders about the thought of converting. All of this was punctuated by the fact that a former God Brother of mine had already done such a thing. Leaving behind Hinduism and embracing his Christian roots. If he, someone who had been practicing for far longer than I, couldn’t make it, what makes me think I could?

A big thing was that I felt like I couldn’t keep with with what was required of me post-initiation. I’m terrible at doing personal rituals (aside from chanting or reading scriptures), while I’m vegetarian I still indulge in onion and garlic on occasion, and I suck at fasting on Ekadashi. Yet, with that said, the biggest thing that was gnawing at me was that I was beginning to view God much less in a masculine way, and more as the Divine Feminine. From God the Father, to God our Mother essentially. This began a search into Shaktism and it’s practices.

Through the months and months of searching and looking, I eventually made my way back to Vadakalai Sri Vaishnavism, but still see God at Feminine (in this case as Sri Lakshmi). When I started out, the vast majority of my devotion went to Vishnu and His avataras. Yet, deep down, I always felt a pull and adoration towards Devi. Since I was initiated into Vadakalai, this wouldn’t be an issue. Vadakalai Vaishnavas see Lakshmi and Vishnu as being equals; as 2 parts of a singular entity. You can’t have one without the other and you can pray to either for guidance, devotion, and to be granted moksha. This is in contrast with a lot of other Vaishnavas who solely rely on Vishnu or Krishna, with Devi being given a much less significant role. Or even being virtually non-existent

I was assured that me giving primary devotion to Lakshmi wouldn’t put me on the fringes of Sri Vaishnavism and that there were entire scriptures, philosophies, and rituals with Lakshmi and her incarnations being the focus of devotion. While I’m still learning scripture and rituals, I’m now learning them at a much more comfortable pace. Where I don’t feel overwhelmed or as if I am less than adequate at taking up such a big effort. I still need to work on my bhakti and personal sadhana, but that is something that comes with time.

In the course of almost two years, I have gone from trying to force myself into a hardline, orthodox, and purely Vaishnava mindset to feeling far more comfortable with worshiping Lakshmi at my own pace.

I no longer feel massive guilt at not keeping a sattvic (no onion, garlic, or egg) vegetarian diet, but understand how it is needed for spiritual progression.

I no longer feel lesser for not always doing the rituals in which I’ve been prescribed, but know that I must eventually move on with them.

While I will always hold Krishna and Narasimha close to my heart, things are far more natural for me to worship God as female. By Her grace and mercy, I will make it through this lifetime and experience the internal transformation that comes with a spiritually centered life.


ॐ श्रीम महालक्ष्मिये नमः

Reflecting on Samsara

For the past few days, a friend of mine and I visited Brooklyn, New York to visit a friend of his; who is currently living there as an intern. We did the usual touristy types of activities, such as visiting Coney Island and Governor’s island, while also checking out local eateries and the Hare Hare Krishna Temple. This wasn’t our first time visiting the Big Apple, as we visited Manhattan this past March. That time around was a lot more in line with what a tourist would do: time square, visiting the UN, the World Trade Center memorial, shopping at stores which catered to tourists (aka, items sold at much higher prices). Both times were greatly enjoyable and I can’t wait to return to the city and explore another borough.

Yet both times, I was reminded of the Dharmic teaching of samsara.

Essentially, Samsara teaches that life is a cycle of death and rebirth; one of pleasure and pain. Often times experienced at the same time.

It’s interesting the emotions and introspection that comes from seeing it first hand. We always logically know that there is suffering in the world, but it usually remains in the bak of the mind; it’s something that can safely be distanced from. One doesn’t have that luxury when seeing it face to face. 

When visiting the city, this was up close and personal. Admist the bright lights, big crowds, and shopping centers, lies a reality that exists alongside. Seeing anger in the eyes and voices of many in the crowds as they tried to make their way through; many homeless trying to sleep on the sidewalk or asking for change form people who clearly had some to give away (me included); and a general feeling of emptiness when I noticed my own hypocrisy of being able to spend money on something completely material, but not give a couple of dollars to someone on the street. Sure, there are rationalizations which I made, but the feelings were still there.

Is there a way to escape this? Outside of attaining Moksha, not really. No matter where we go, there will be pleasure and pain; often times in the same place or experience. We can (and should) do what we can to help others, but Samsara will always be there. Suffering, joy, love, hatred, and the constant cycle therein will always exist. It’s a natural part of the world and cannot be something that we can avoid. No matter how much we wish to do so.

Of course I don’t wish to come across as nihilistic about the nature of existence (far from it actually), but this is just another part of the souls journey. Better get used to it if one doesn’t want to go insane.



Hare Krishna Center in Brooklyn, NYC
Photo by David 

Sometimes, I do miss Christianity.

What I just typed as the title might as well be heresy among post-Christian circles.

When one leaves behind their birth religion (in my case, Christianity) for another faith or for non-faith, there seems to be an underlying vibe that one must never have any nostalgic feelings or fondness of it. There is a reason you left it, right? It was a flawed, evil faith that had no place for you and it has a history of oppression and violence. You’re clearly better off without it.

Just go to any video or writing from someone who left the Christian faith and 8 times out of 10 it’s likely to be remembered as something sad or otherwise extremely negative.

While there are a lot of valid criticisms against Christianity (as there is for all religions), a part of me truly does miss it.

I was raised Southern Baptist, and while I think it is not an overall good institution, there were parts about growing up baptist that I loved. The emphasis on community and the great music. Not to mention amazing food during fellowship.

When I denounced the Christian faith, I foolishly thought that all of Christianity was like my experience growing up, and in the south that’s quite likely. However, once I began to seriously study theology, the fullness and richness of Christianity, especially the liturgical churches, came to my attention. The apostolic history, the communion of Saints, Mary as the Theotokos, the mass (or services similar to it), the nuanced and mature theology beyond the “do it because God said so” that I grew up with. Not to mention the fact that, whether we like it or not, Christianity was one of the many bedrocks of western civilization and philosophy. Furthermore, there is a strand of the faith which is fully dedicated to social justice and helping the poor; something I think Jesus would fully approve of. All of this, plus more, truly is attractive to me, and not long ago I seriously began contemplating returning to my roots.

But I didn’t. Despite all of the good I see in Christianity, I just can’t return to it.

I can’t get over the fact that, as a gay man, while there is a lot of affirmation among some churches, most would see me as a second class citizen at best; an evil sodomite at worst.

I can’t get over the teachings of a permanent hell and the fact that, according to some, good people who just so happened to not believe in God would end up there.

I looked into a kind of post-modern, progressive Christianity, but something big felt like it was missing. Something spiritual and transformative just wasn’t there.

Even as a person of faith, the Problem of Evil is a huge hurdle for me, and perhaps because it’s the dominant faith in my culture, Christianity bears the burden of this.

In the end, I think this is mostly nostalgia playing a role. I can certainly appreciate the kind of mature, complex Christianity found in the ancient churches and early Protestants, but ultimately there just isn’t a place for me. I can look upon it with a kind of fondness, and walk along side my Christian brothers and sisters, but I don’t think there would ever be a full acceptance of me.

Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing when one thinks about it.



Photo by Père Igor via Wikimedia Commons