L.A. Rathyatra - I touched God yesterday

Janus · August 6, 2001

What an amazing thing. "How was your weekend?" someone might say. "Hum, drum, so so, but that was only Saturday." Any other answer they might expect, but "I touched God yesterday."

"How did God feel? they might ask with wry sense of humor if they recovered quickly enough from the surprise and the shock, from the combination of thoughts which race with flickering speed across the mind, and the emotions of fear and slight glimmering of hop, still to shy, to shy and to fearful to demand the selfs God given and inalienable right.

"How did God feel?"

"Comforting."

"How so?"

"He felt like wood, covered with paint and laquer and cloth, and He was solid, and there was a nice resounding thump when I touched him."

What a curious answer, a riddle and a mystery, just another crazy, time to move on.

It was a beautiful day in Santa Monica California, the most beautiful I've seen all year.

The carts were in better off shape then they used to be when they set out open to the weather in the parking lot by the temple, but still there was a lot to be done, and at least there in the temple parking lot the kids would sometimes come by to help, or guests who'd stop by would come and lend a hand.

Saturday though an old man, all alone, stopped by where the carts were. No one was there to invite his service, or to give him instruction, but he wanted so badly to help that after a long time of waiting he just picked up a brush, opened up a can of paint, and labored alone all morning. Later on in the mid afternoon a devotee, the head of the project showed.

Already in great anxiety from the fact that he had not had enough help to get what he wanted to get done completed he went to chase the old man off with harsh words and unkind attitude, probably thinking him just another crazy, or just another bumb as the area accumulates, but the old man, knowing that he was unworthy, accepted this behavior, and stayed, and continued to work in hopes to lighten the devotees burden. Later on the young man looked at what the old man had done, and was satisfied with it, and he thanked him, and smiled, and the old man thanked him, thanked him for engaging him in Krsna's service.

Sunday the old man was down at the beach again. He had been there many times during the year. Even though it was hard to walk, and painful, as frequently as he could he would go down and walk the route that the carts would take from Santa Monica to Venice, and then up to and around the storage lot where they sat the rest of the year, chanting Hare Krsna and hoping to meet devotees.

And this day was a special day, the Rathyatra festival of Lord Jaganatha, Krsna Himself, the Lord of the Universe. The old man had been there for the first chariot festival, and this would probably be the last time in this life that he would ever be able to attend, so he wasn't going to miss it.

He had never considered himself to be a devotee, or to be fit at all to associate with them, so he was shy of them, yet supportive of their efforts. When he walked down from Santa Monica, down to where the carts are, instead of going up directly to the devotees he offered his obeisances from a bluff over looking them, and then walked around the carts several times at a distance.

Finally a young man dressed in saffron, a far ranging sankirtan devotee approached him and offered him a Bhagavad Gita. The old man demured.

"No thank you, I have Srila Prabhupadas Bhagavad Gita." He said.

"But this is Srila Prabhupadas Bhagavad Gita." The youth protested.

The old man did not argue, it was not his place, he did not say how it seemed to him that the editorial changes were like someone had taken a brush, dipped it in black ink and spattered the ink across a clear pane of glass, blocking out a portion of the light from coming through. He only said "No, I meant that I have Srila Prabhupadas Bhagavad Gita, one of the ones that he held in his hands, one of the ones that his classes in his presense were conducted from.I have all of Srila Prabhupadas books, but this one is most special to me, I had it as a gift." The old man finished, and the Bhramachari told him that he was fortunate, even only half believing the statement of the anomaly that stood before him.

"Hare Krsna" the bhramachari said, and then like a fish to long out of water, to long gasping for air, the old man jumped in and breathed once again

"Hare Krsna", and the old man danced and he danced and he danced all the way from Santa Monica to Venice on feet that on other days could not even feel, or when they could feel could feel only pain. But on this day there was no pain, only the joy of Krsna's name chanted in the association of Krsna's devotees.

And that was yesterday.

The old man told his wife about it today, about how he'd touched God yesterday, and she had replied that what was important was that God had touched him.