HH Bhakti Tirtha Swami (Also Known as Black Lotus)
Bhakti-tirtha Swami (1950–2005), one of my dearest friends and mentors, was a person of singular determination, a courageous and bold preacher of Krishna consciousness. He had a passion for Srila Prabhupada’s mission that took him around the world, particularly to Eastern Europe, behind the Iron Curtain, where he surpassed all others in distributing his spiritual master’s books, often risking his own life, and to Africa, where kings and queens acknowledged him as a chief and recognized him as a spiritual leader. He was esteemed in Prabhupada’s own institution as well. In ISKCON he was a respected sannyasi, a monk in the renounced order of life, and a guru, with disciples of his own. He was the world’s first Afro-American Vaishnava spiritual master, and he published many books, too, explaining how to apply Krishna consciousness in the modern world. His books use the language of conflict resolution and depth psychology, as well as that of the New Age. They foster spiritual advancement through principle-centered leadership techniques and inner realizations. In addition, he had a tremendous ability to touch people on a deep level, to change lives, as thousands of godbrothers, friends, and disciples can attest to.
The various names by which Bhakti-tirtha Swami is known in ISKCON tell us much about who he was. And I often enjoyed discussing this with him. For example, Srila Prabhupada gave him the name Ghanashyama Dasa, which means “servant of the blackish cloud.” The name Ghanashyama refers to Krishna, who is as beautiful as a dark rain cloud, with a complexion to match. So I used to playfully say to Bhakti-tirtha Swami that in naming him “Ghanashyama” Prabhupada had acknowledged his beauty as a charismatic black man, an Afro-American with marked exquisiteness both materially and spiritually. Upon hearing this, of course, he would characteristically laugh, or shine his contagious smile, expressing humility as he waved away with his hand the very notion of being like Krishna or of possessing some form of visible beauty, whether mundane or otherworldly.
I also pointed out to him that “Bhakti-tirtha,” the name he was given at his sannyåsa ceremony, was highly appropriate as well. He is like the true tirtha, or “holy place,” I would say, in that such places are like bridges to the spiritual world. The word tirtha is conceptually linked to tirthankara, or “bridge-builder,” the idea being that a true holy place is like a bridge to the spiritual realm, and that teachers who help people achieve that realm are like tirthas in their own right. He, especially, was like a bridge, using bhakti, or devotion, to bring people to Krishna. Hence, “bhakti-tirtha.”
Along related lines, his style of conveying Krishna consciousness emphasized the importance of “bridge-building,” so that outsiders would have easy access to the philosophy. Due to his highly developed sense of compassion, he intensely labored to bring people to the lotus feet of Krishna. For a brief period in ISKCON’s history, in fact, Bhakti-tirtha Swami was known as Srila Krishnapada, which, again, indicates his favored position at Lord Krishna’s lotus feet and his ever-broadening capacity to give others shelter there. Of course, he was also a “swami,” which indicates one who is able to control his senses. As we shall see, his life as a devotee of Krishna reveals these qualities in abundance.
John Favors God, and God Favors Him
Bhakti-tirtha Swami was born John Edwin Favors on February 25, 1950, the youngest of four sisters and two brothers. He was marked by a speech impediment that he thought he might never conquer. An additional obstacle was that he was born into a poor family in a Cleveland ghetto. But his parents taught him well, giving him confidence, religion, and a sense of giving. Although he had few clothes, for example, his mother would often donate them to neighboring boys and girls, hoping to teach her children the importance of charity. She also volunteered long hours at local churches, giving her family a sense of sacrifice.
In fact, John was a child evangelist, and while his speech defect made giving sermons difficult, he spoke best when speaking on religious topics. Somehow, his stuttering lessened when he shared the words of scripture, and in later years it subsided, with only the barest hint of it when he spoke. As a youth he regularly appeared on local television stations to preach the Christian Gospel.
“Because I had seen so much poverty,” he said, “I was interested in doing something for myself and others.”
He excelled as a student while at Cleveland’s East Technical High School and spent a good portion of his spare time doing welfare work.
He received a scholarship to Hawken Academy, a distinguished preparatory school in Cleveland. While there he became enamored of Dr. Martin Luther King’s civil rights movement, and he eventually became a local leader for the cause. Despite his involvement in political concerns, or perhaps because of it, he became an exemplary student.
In 1968 his exceptional grades earned him a scholarship to Princeton University, where he majored in psychology and Afro-American studies. At Princeton his political interests grew as he joined the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, the Black Panther Party, and other activist groups. He was elected student body president in 1971 and chairman of the Third World Coalition in 1972.
Melvin R. McCray, one of his colleagues at Princeton, remembers him as an extraordinary person. McCray wrote in the Princeton Alumni Weekly:
“I saw John Favors for the first time at the introductory meeting of the Association of Black Collegians (ABC) in the fall of 1970. As ABC’s president, he delivered an impassioned speech on the role of blacks at Princeton. Though only 5’ 9", he was an imposing figure in his leopard-print dashiki and matching fez-like hat, with walking stick, pipe, bushy afro, and full beard. At that time he called himself Toshombe Abdul, and he spoke with the force and dynamism of Malcolm X.”
While at Princeton and soon thereafter John began serving as assistant coordinator for penal programs in the State of New Jersey in the Public Defender’s office. He was also a director in several drug abuse clinics and a special consultant for Educational Testing Services in the United States. Through it all he maintained a healthy interest in “mystic Christianity,” as he called it, and earnestly pursued his spiritual calling. This is not to say that while at college he didn’t indulge in the usual activities of the day. It was, after all, the turbulent ’60s, with its sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll.
Still, while reminiscing he said, “I tried my best in those days to forget God. But despite my best efforts, I inevitably found myself continually glorifying Him.”
He explored the teachings of Sri Chinmoy, Swami Satchidananda, and a little-known mentor whom he never named. This latter mentor directed him to the saint who would become his spiritual master, His Divine Grace A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada. At first, however, he was reluctant to pursue Prabhupada and his teachings.
“The first time I saw a Hare Krishna,” he said, “was up in Harvard Square at a football game. It was very cold, and a group of them were standing on the corner chanting. I looked at them and thought, ’This is the epitome of absurdity.’ I presumed they were rich white students just out looking for some different kind of drug or alternate experience. But when I passed by again two hours later, they were still on the corner chanting in the cold. I knew then there was something extraordinary about them.”
Finally, a girlfriend gave him an album of Srila Prabhupada singing, called “Krishna Meditation.” As he listened intently to the guru whom his mentor had suggested he would recognize as his eternal spiritual teacher, he began to remember something he had long forgotten: He was a soul caught in a material body, and he wasn’t black or white but, rather, a spiritual being. He began to weep uncontrollably.
Soon he was visiting the Brooklyn Hare Krishna temple, and soon after that he renounced the little he had to pursue Krishna consciousness with complete conviction. He moved into the temple, where the leading devotees, seeing his intellectual acumen and natural teaching ability, sent him to Dallas, Texas, to assist in the then fledgling Gurukula, a school for ISKCON children. Upon arriving there, however, he met Satsvarupa Dasa Goswami, and the course of his life changed. He was attracted to Satsvarupa Maharaja’s simple and straightforward presentation of Krishna consciousness and accepted the senior devotee as a sort of instructing spiritual master. At the time, Satsvarupa was starting a mobile sankirtana party, a group of devotees who would travel together distributing Srila Prabhupada’s books. John wanted in.
A Beautiful Blackish Cloud Arises
It quickly became evident that John Favors was no ordinary devotee. For example, he chanted at least thirty-two rounds of Hare Krishna on his beads daily, rather than the standard sixteen. To accomplish this, he would rise earlier than most devotees and would usually go to sleep late into the night. He also kept a diary in which he wrote a letter to Srila Prabhupada every day. In these letters, he would reveal his weaknesses, pray to overcome them, and express his determination to become pure. His eating was sparse, usually fruits and nuts, sometimes a few carrots, bananas, and a little butter.
Most amazingly, he outdid everyone else on the team he traveled with, distributing Prabhupada’s books with the skill of an experienced book salesman. Soon, Hridayananda Maharaja took over the party. He trained the young men, particularly Mahabuddhi Dasa and John, to sell books to university libraries. The party became known in ISKCON as “The Library Party,” underlining its newly chosen venue for selling books. John was highly successful in bringing books to the collegiate intelligentsia.
As weeks turned into months, he was initiated. Satsvarupa Maharaja recommended him highly to Srila Prabhupada, who wrote back a letter in February, 1973, giving him the name Ghanashyama Dasa. As Prabhupada’s “blackish cloud,” he lovingly created a distinct brand of torrential rain—a downpour of spiritual literature.
Throughout 1974 and 1975, Srila Prabhupada wrote numerous letters to Satsvarupa Maharaja and Rameshvara Maharaja, under whom Ghanashyama served. Prabhupada praised his activities and marveled at his success in selling books. Prabhupada also wrote Ghanashyama several personal letters during this period. In one, he wrote, “You are rendering first quality service to Krishna by your preaching success. Be blessed and continue your efforts and Krishna will recognize you very quickly.”
Teaming up with Kalakantha Dasa, Ghanashyama next went to Europe, specifically England, to carry on the book distribution of the Library Party. However, success there was minimal. As Kalakantha later reflected, “The Brits, at that time, seemed reluctant because of the India connection. It was still a sore spot for them.”
After a while, the two ISKCON compatriots split up, with Ghanashyama going to Eastern Europe. There he distributed Prabhupada’s books in communist countries, where in most cases religion was banned. He lived his Krishna conscious life in secret, and in austere conditions. In Russia he lived on public trains, going from one to another throughout the night, chanting his rounds in public bathrooms. Despite all contrary odds, he continued to distribute with great success, remaining the top Library Party salesman. His determination and positive results brought great pleasure to Srila Prabhupada.
Rain of Mercy
When Prabhupada was ill, preparing to depart from this world in the summer and fall of 1977, reports of Ghanashyama’s exploits were among the few things that brought him solace. Numerous letters from Tamal Krishna Goswami, Prabhupada’s secretary at the time, reported Prabhupada’s unparalleled joy when hearing of Ghanashyama’s activities. Naturally, then, when Prabhupada made his final trip to the West, to England, Ghanashyama received special mercy in Prabhupada’s presence. He called the young book distributor into his room and, asking him to sit at his side, embraced him. With tears in his eyes, Prabhupada told him, “Your life is perfect.”
But his “perfection” did not make him complacent. After Prabhupada left this world, Ghanashyama continued to distribute books like a man possessed, and to serve his guru’s mission with full enthusiasm. In due course, in New Vrindavan, West Virginia, he took sannyåsa from Kirtanananda Swami, receiving the name Bhakti-tirtha Swami. This was in 1979. Soon thereafter he started The Committee for Urban Spiritual Development. The aim of this project was close to his heart, since, as an inner-city child himself, he could relate to the concerns of the downtrodden and knew how to bring them to Krishna consciousness. Inner-city preaching, combined with welfare work and prasådam distribution, usually through opening restaurants, became a mainstay of his endeavors. His restaurant in Washington, D.C., was particularly successful.
It was around this time that he had a dream wherein Srila Prabhupada requested him to “open the door.” In the dream, he continued to tend to other services, leaving Prabhupada’s request aside. Finally, after Prabhupada uttered the request for a second and then a third time, Bhakti-tirtha opened the door, and a multitude of African people came running through. From this dream, he deduced that Srila Prabhupada wanted him to go to Africa, and so, without any particular inclination toward that part of the world and in the midst of a successful project in Washington, he left, suddenly, and with little planning.
In the end, his African venture was immensely successful. His accomplishments in Africa, and elsewhere, are too many and too vast to describe in detail here. In Africa, he opened and oversaw two farm communities and more than twenty temples across six countries. In addition, he maintained two public schools and worked at a grassroots level to enhance the spiritual lives of people throughout the continent, particularly in West Africa.
Among his most prominent accomplishments in America is perhaps his founding, in 1988, of the Institute for Applied Spiritual Technology (IFAST), dedicated to presenting Krishna consciousness to New Age spiritual seekers around the world. One of the aims of the Institute was to establish self-sufficient farm communities, and to that end he rejuvenated ISKCON’s Gita-nagari project in Port Royal, Pennsylvania. With this project, the Swami found an attentive audience among professionals as well—high-powered doctors, lawyers, and others saw truth in his message.
A few highlights of his illustrious career:
Soon after taking sannyasa, he went to Jagannatha Puri and, although Westerners are not allowed in the temple, managed to get in to see the beautiful Jagannatha deities.
He met Mohammed Ali in 1981 and became one of his spiritual advisors.
He became a member of ISKCON’s governing body in 1982 and an initiating spiritual master in 1985.
He went to Africa, where Pushta Krishna Dasa, Brahmananda Dasa, and others were preaching, and opened it up in an unprecedented way. He stayed there, on and off, for sixteen years, meeting and working with the country’s most distinguished dignitaries, celebrities, and leaders, including Nobel Peace Prize laureate Nelson Mandela.
In 1990 he was honored by being given the position of a high chief in Warri, Nigeria, in recognition of his outstanding work in Africa. He was widely accepted as an authentic religious leader throughout the African subcontinent.
As he became something of a well-known international spiritual leader, with numerous college lectures, TV and radio talk shows, and inter-religious conferences lined up for years to come, the ravages of time manifested in an unexpected way, changing his plans forever.
Die Before You Die
Bhakti-tirtha Swami was diagnosed with a stage-four melanoma on his right foot. Ten years before, he had been told of a suspicious lump there. But it was benign, and removal would mean losing the use of his foot entirely. In a later attempt to remove it, doctors found that it was malignant. A diagnosis of diabetes limited the medical options. At first, he tried natural cures, which showed some promise but ultimately helped little.
In August 2004, his specialist advised him of the need for chemotherapy, immediate amputation of the foot, and the removal of affected lymph nodes. He conceded, but when only minimal success was reported, he prepared to leave this world. Bhakti-tirtha Swami saw in this an opportunity: “Krishna is allowing me to develop more purity, more potency to stage a change; he is allowing me to help others as well as myself to focus in a deeper way; we have to be ready to go the extra mile for the devotees.”
Actually, the illness did not come as a surprise to him. He had long prayed to take on the karmic debts of others, to suffer so that others might be released from suffering. He had prayed:
Dear Lord,
Whatever we need to be better servants for Srila Prabhupada’s mission, let it happen or come to us. Whatever we need to have taken away to become pure in Srila Prabhupada’s service, let it be taken away.
He wrote that he was willing to die for the misdeeds of others, and that in dying he would somehow bring his friends and Godbrothers closer together. This is in fact what happened. According to Bhakti Caru Swami, another ISKCON leader and a friend who had been in close contact with him at the end, “Maharaja [Bhakti-tirtha Swami] emphasized that the sufferings of so many devotees had become too much for him to bear. He was praying very intensely to Srila Prabhupada that he wanted to become purified, become a better disciple, and help those who are struggling, at any cost.”
Radhanatha Swami, an ISKCON leader and one Bhakti-tirtha Swami’s dearest friends, was constantly by his side for the last couple of months as his main caregiver. Others also stayed with Bhakti-tirtha Swami, including disciples who were physicians. Friends and well-wishers poured in, showing support, offering prayers, seeking blessings. Devotees from around the world resolved longstanding differences in his name.
As the last few weeks emerged, his consciousness was more and more absorbed in Krishna and he went into solitary meditation, allowing only those who spoke about Krishna to be with him. By the time of his departure his absorption was total. He listened only to Krishna’s Vrindavana pastimes and viewed only a beautiful painting of Krishna and one of Prabhupada, in front of his bed. As he passed away, he was clasping a shalagrama deity, and another one was placed on his head. He was sprayed with sacred Radha-kunda water, and a tulasi leaf was placed on his tongue. Truly, he left this world as he had lived: as an exemplary devotee.
When his rich, productive life was reaching its close, he and I began signing our letters to each other with the Sanskrit words aham tvam prinami: “I love you.” This gesture signified our deep appreciation for each other’s work. He had many times expressed his high regard for my books, and he knew well how much I relished his. But there was more. He and I felt like kindred spirits in yet another way. We both took it as our service to stretch the envelope, as it were, to show devotees, through word and deed, that there are many approaches to Krishna consciousness, that there is more than one way to serve the Lord. Still further, the new way of signing our letters showed the kind of person he was, always ready to express his love for other devotees. I love you, too, Bhakti-tirtha Swami, and you will always be in my heart.
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