Taisnava Compassion navigates the intricate and, Vaishalica Compassion the intricate at times, of compassion, teaching how emotive prayer as the core attitude residing in the chanting of the holy names of God empowers compassion. "Feeling helpless in the face of others' suffering helps us feel human." (p. 154) "Although active preaching is important, it is in prayer where we can recollect ourselves and touch the nature of universal suffering." (p. 157).
By revealing his personal, introspective meditations, the author carefully and caringly distinguishes between mundane sentimentality, dogmatic evangelism, and genuine self-actualized love and care-first describing how to care for oneself and then how to extend compassion to others. "Life is not just about absolute ideals but the willingness to live them in the real world... Compassion is what will save our society." (p. 154-55).
In a time when care-providing, self-help, psychotherapy, social work, and other common buzz words threaten to obscure the sublime methods and depth of heart that are transmitted by real, spiritual compassion, he sorts out the confusion and ambiguity. This allows readers and care practitioners from all walks of life entrance into the causeless grace and shelter invoked by the empowered teacher, who compassionately grants access to the holy name to all souls.
I WAS AWARE OF THE CONCEPT OF COMPASSION Ibefore I met Srila Prabhupāda. While I was studying at Brooklyn College, I took a philosophy course in which we studied the writings of Bertrand Russell. In particular, I remember how he presented Nietzsche in comparison to Buddha. He gave a synopsis of Buddha's philosophy, compared it to Nietzsche's approach to humankind, and asked in effect, "Which do you think is better?" Russell was obviously taken with Buddha's compassion for living beings, and considered a Buddha superior to a philosopher who worked with humanity as an idea. That was my first introduction to how compassion was meant to be a heartfelt sentiment.
Just before I entered the Navy, I went to confession at a Staten Island church. I told the priest I had begun to doubt the sacrament of confession. When he invited me to meet him at the rectory, I poured out my concerns the injustice whites were perpetrating against blacks, the senseless Korean War, and the complete materialism of standard American values. The priest said simply, "I see you have a lot of love in you." I was flattered, but I knew what I was really saying: How could a loving God allow so many injustices in the world? I was losing faith. The world seemed coldhearted, competition-based, and loveless. Most of my friends agreed with this analysis. Thinking back, I see now that the priest was acknowledging my sentiment but recognizing that I had no idea how to express my love properly.
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