June 9-15, 2005

books

Interview: Gabriel Brandis

free spirit: Gabriel Brandis, shown here in an initiation ceremony, spent four years with the Hare Krishnas.

by A.D. Amorosi

As Pada Seva Dasa, Philly native Gabriel Brandis made it to the top of the Hare Krishna food chain. Little did he know those he served selflessly — hunting for charitable monies, living a life of celibacy — were sex-conscious spendthrifts. Brandis, a servant with doubts who got himself into trouble anytime he questioned his masters, got out and deprogrammed willingly and with ease. His travails fill his self-published Servant of the Lotus Feet: A Hare Krishna Odyssey. Currently an actor, with credits in Hack and Annapolis, Brandis, 43, tells an ambitious and deliciously humorous story of a beautiful spiritual path corrupted into a power-mad, money-making organization.

City Paper: You were this Jewish kid from the Northeast when you got the "calling." Were you particularly religious before going Krishna?
Gabriel Brandis: I grew up in a secular Jewish household in Oxford Circle in Northeast Philly. Since that was all I knew about religion at the time, it was my "center." I felt an affinity with the people in my family who celebrated that most. I perceived them as artistic and intellectual. When a child is drawn to something such as religion so strongly as I was, I believed that it must be honored. I was judgmental of my family's secular connection to being Jewish. Ironically, they were probably more connected to our heritage than I was.

CP: What was the biggest trepidation going in?
GB: I loved the idea of being God's devotee, but the required celibacy was a major hurdle. Not only were the men prohibited from having relations with women, we weren't even allowed to speak with women. In fact, the Hare Krishna doctrine invades your personal space to the point where we were prohibited from even thinking of women. Naturally, those of us so inclined often did. Upon leaving the movement four years after joining, I learned that the rumors of the spiritual masters and temple "authorities" having affairs with women were often true. There was indeed a double standard.

CP: I know you either had to marry or forget about sex completely. But what was the story with sex as a Brahman? And are there Brahman groupies?
GB: As a twice-initiated Brahman priest, I enjoyed a higher level of respect and privilege in the Krishna community. Naturally, the average devotee thought about "not thinking about sex" more than he or she normally would have if our natural inclinations could be fulfilled in a healthy manner. We were taught that a "sex life" is dirty and will keep us in the material world forever until we can become free from such desire. I was sincere in my vow of celibacy, not to say I didn't struggle with it. Looking back, there were lots of women I was peripherally aware of who would have delighted in my company, by mutual consensus, if I gave them the time of day. There were devotees who found ways of hooking up with the female devotees, or perhaps outsiders, for conjugal affairs. I wasn't one of them. Many of the sannyasis, those traditionally of the highest renounced order in India, were often known to have affairs with women, or men — whomever.

CP: If you see your former brothers in the movement, do you engage? Ever try to dissuade them from the life?
GB: I used to drive a horse-drawn carriage in Society Hill. On one occasion I ran into the "godbrother" I speak of in my book, Prahlada. This ever-joyful soul came up to me during a South Street Krishna festival and embraced me as a friend. He suffered his own crisis in the movement, but there wasn't anything I could really say to dissuade him. He found a balance between extreme fundamentalism and living on the edge of the dogma. I wasn't afraid to confront the Krishnas then, and I certainly am not now. Soon after I left there was a class-action suit filed against the movement for fraudulent coercion of their followers, which I became a part of. Seeing those Krishna-clad devotees whom I used to kowtow to shined up in saffron and shaven heads caused me some anxiety at the deposition table, but they didn't inspire me to return to their path, not one bit. Trying to dissuade those people from their lifestyle would have been a complete waste of time. The best I could do was smile at them contemptuously, thus proving that Krishna, or God, wasn't going to punish me for leaving.

Gabriel Brandis reads Mon., June 13, 7 p.m., Free Library, Central Branch,1901 Vine St., 215-686-5322.