R
reb108
Guest
Catholics teach that the Royal Road to Perfect Love (of God) is to suffer always; to pray always. Look around you: there are different religions, different houses of worship. Majestic Vedic temples, massive cathedrals, little white churches: Hindu, Muslim, Catholic, Baptist, Pentecostal, Methodist, Mormon. You name it. You enter. You become one. You belong. You follow and you offer your soul. Each is a different roller-coaster with its own route, its own set of thrills. Lord Chaitanya taught that the Royal Road to perfect love is to chant and dance sweetly the Holy Names of God, and to feast on Holy Prasadam (Eucharist) . Yes, suffering is there; austerity is there; rules and regulations are there. They are given for our own good. Follow and be blessed. Differences do not necessarily mean one side is condemned. I wish I could talk to God face-to-face. I would ask Him about Catholics. I would ask Him about the Vaishnavas. I want to know more. If you haven’t noticed, Catholic saints are fantastic. They give their all. They push themselves unbelievably hard. They enter nirvana. Crippled nuns, cloistered nuns, Franciscan Monks; they float in space; the bilocate; they make the blind see; they raise the dead; they see Jesus; they talk to His Divine Mother. Mary bent over and handed Her Child to Saint Agnes. When the saint’s ecstasy broke, in her hand she discovered the little gold chain and cross that the Child was wearing around His neck: the one she was holding onto so firmly in her trance. She didn’t want to give the Child back to His Mother. Sor Maria gave Indians in San Angelo, Texas rosary beads she had taken from her convent in Agreda, Spain. A Chief gave his rosary to a Spanish Padre. The year was about 1620. But she had never stepped a foot outside the village where she was born. 500 years ago a great devotee sat in Vrindavan, India and in his ecstasy he sat boiling milk for Krishna. The milk began to overflow and in horror he reached out with his hands to push the milk back into the pot. This jolted him back to reality. A bird was singing. He then noticed that his hands were burned from the boiling milk. He had to wrap them in a cloth to hide them from everyone. But they knew. Yes, I would like to talk to God.