Six Items That Can Hamper One’s Service As A Husband Or A Wife

By Vishakha Devi Dasi

(1) Weakness of character

Śrīla Prabhupāda writes: ‘When a young boy or girl sees a member of the opposite sex there is a natural attraction without the need for any introduction. Without any training there is a natural attraction due to the sex impulse’. (Nectar of Devotion, p. 81) Prior to marriage, this natural attraction for the company of the opposite sex may lead to flirting, dating, and dallying in coyness and sexual innuendos. Such casual premarital relationships deny young men and women the fortitude that celibacy in mind, word and deed creates; deny the magnificence of carefree sailing over choppy waves of unnecessary indulgences; and deny a sense of completion to one’s formative years.

By such indulgence, material tendencies expand, one’s neediness expands, and one hankers and laments. Young persons, who avoid the gifts that come from voluntary self-discipline, may later find themselves handicapped householders, that is, householders who have difficulty controlling their senses, who are dissatisfied and frustrated. Because they have not taken the time to find the quiet confidence of emotional fulfilment and happiness within themselves, they crave those things from their partner. But fulfilment and happiness are not to be found there. Śrīla Prabhupāda explains:

Unfortunately, in this present civilisation both men and women are allowed to be attracted to one another from the very beginning of life, and because of this they are completely unable to come to the platform of self-realisation. They do not know that without self-realisation they suffer the greatest loss in the human form of life … The span of youth expires very quickly. One who wastes his life simply by committing sinful activities in youth immediately becomes disappointed and disillusioned when the brief period of youth is over. (Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 4.27.4–5)

Our goal is to re-establish our relationship with God, and we cannot expect to do that by defying His social standards. Moreover, when one is thinking of a qualified companion for a qualified young devotee, one is attracted to a person with inspired devotion, a kind heart and spiritual wisdom. In short, a good devotee, not one who is needy, intemperate and who defies Śrīla Prabhupāda’s directives. If we would be married, we must make ourselves marriageable by becoming disciplined human beings.

We find this description in Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam (4.21.4): ‘As the King entered the gate of the city … he was received by many beautiful unmarried girls whose bodies were bedecked with various ornaments’. In his purport, Śrīla Prabhupāda explains, ‘A welcome offered by unmarried girls who are internally and externally clean and are dressed in nice garments and ornaments is auspicious. Kumārī, or unmarried girls untouched by the hand of any member of the opposite sex, are auspicious members of society’. The kumārīs and the brahmacārīs (described elsewhere in the Bhāgavatam) separately learn to serve God, to worship Him, to become absorbed in enriching, spiritual arts and to explore their unique gifts. By developing their inner and outer lives with same-sex peers, these young people discover their personal mettle, thrive in that discovery, and have a strong sense of self-worth. Their noble and godlike character is not a thing of favour or chance but is the natural result of continued effort, self-control and good association, and their presence is always auspicious. Those who would achieve much must also sacrifice much. When young people with a solid personal foundation in self-discipline later enter household life, they also make it auspicious. ‘Before entering household life, a student is fully trained to become jitendriya, a conqueror of the senses. Such a mature student is allowed to become a householder.’ (Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 5.1.18) By Kṛṣṇa’s grace, the future husband and the future wife find fullness and beauty first within themselves and then in each other.

After several decades, when the challenging journey of householder life finally ends, the singular strength one found in youth and maintained in midlife can fortify one at life’s closure. Śrīla Prabhupāda writes:
… at the end of life, when one has to go back home, back to Godhead, everyone has to take care of himself without help rendered by another … Draupadī had five husbands, and no one asked Draupadī to come; Draupadī had to take care of herself without waiting for her great husbands. And because she was already trained, she at once took to concentration upon the lotus feet of Lord Vāsudeva, Kṛṣṇa, the Personality of Godhead. (Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 1.15.50)

The ultimate goal of life is the spiritual growth of the individual; it is our personal journey to the lotus feet of the Lord. Successful training and a successful marriage nurture this most significant journey. In fact, training and marriage exist for nurturing that journey. ‘If husband and wife are attached to one another for advancement in Kṛṣṇa consciousness, their relationship of cooperation is very effective for such advancement’. (Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 6.18.34)

(2) Incompatibility

Worse than being alone is to be with a person who doesn’t like you. Too many devotees have experienced the anguish and chaos caused by an incompatible marriage. Such travesties are systematically avoided in Vaiṣṇava culture because, besides undergoing training and learning restraint before marriage, all care is taken in matchmaking: ‘Formerly, boys and girls of similar dispositions were married; the similar natures of the boy and girl were united in order to make them happy’. (Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 3.21.15) ‘The central idea is that if the boy and girl were on an equal level the marriage would be happy, whereas inequality would lead to unhappiness’. (Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 9.18.23) ‘Marriage and friendship are proper between two people who are equal in terms of their wealth, birth, influence, physical appearance and capacity for good progeny, but never between a superior and an inferior’. (Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 10.60.15) We want our life’s companion to be a true peer.

Besides conscientiously matching a suitable young man with a suitable young woman, compatibility also includes the husband having like-minded male friends and the wife having like-minded female friends. All our dialogue need not fall on just one pair of ears, but in confidence, we reveal our mind to and have dedicated and loving ties with handpicked friends. If at some point our marriage is rocky, qualified friends can help us learn from the difficulties and acquire skills to improve our relationship. Marriage is a process of changing and accepting change, of settling differences and living with differences that will never be settled, of drawing close and pulling apart and drawing close again. Good friends smooth the bumps on this long journey.

Compatibility also includes living with our spouse’s faults. Anyone can live with another’s good qualities, but can you live with that person’s weaknesses? After the initial period of guarded good behaviour, the character flaws we brought with us to the marriage begin to surface, and we face the pain of dealing with both our own and our spouse’s shortcomings and the conflicts those create. No two people are completely compatible, and not all incompatibilities in marriage can be worked out. Sometimes inevitable differences can be laughed at, sometimes coped with, sometimes negotiated, sometimes accepted, and sometimes they are complementary. Sometimes waiting and praying is the answer. It is rewarding when, after thousands of these tribulations have come and gone, you know and honour your spouse despite the differences between you. By focusing on closeness, differences become manageable; by focusing on differences, closeness disappears.

The more one advances in consciousness, the less affected one is by another’s failings; conversely, the more neophyte we are, the more those failings will irritate us. Not everyone can be like Mandodarī, the chaste wife of Rāvaṇa, who was fully aware of her husband’s lowly nature and activities and yet remained loyal till the end: ‘Rāvaṇa’s wife Mandodarī knew very well how cruel a person Rāvaṇa was. The very word “Rāvaṇa” means “one who causes crying for others” … Thus Rāvaṇa was condemned not only by Lord Rāmacandra but even by his own wife, Mandodarī, who said to the slain body of her husband, “By your deeds you have made your body fit to be eaten by vultures and your soul fit to go to hell.”’ (Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 9.10.26–8)

(3) An inability to hear

Our prayer is not, ‘Dear God, help him (her) see it my way’, but, ‘Please God, show us the way’. Even with spiritual progress as a common goal, even with inner strength and compatibility, a marriage will still be painfully difficult if the couple cannot empathetically hear from each other. If we only listen enough to protect our own territory, we lose common ground. If we only hear what we want to hear, we will remain inflexible and unaware of the other’s needs. But when we don’t impose ourself on the other or allow the other to impose himself or herself on us, hearing is an opportunity for lifetime learning, for responding to healthy needs and for reconciling divergent opinions. A rewarding marriage creates an atmosphere that encourages each person to talk honestly. Emotions need not be repressed; they can be expressed, but expressed considerately, so the other can hear.

True hearing, total concentration on the other, is to value the other and extend oneself for mutual growth. An essential part of this process is to temporarily set aside our prejudices, frames of reference and desires so as to experience our spouse’s world from the inside, stepping into his or her shoes. Sensing this acceptance, the speaker feels inclined to open up more to the listener, and the listener appreciates the speaker more and more. Unfortunately, most couples do not truly hear each other.

The art of knowing what to say and when to say it and the craft of give and take are part of hearing, as illustrated in this pastime from the Sixth Canto of the Bhāgavatam, explained in Śrīla Prabhupāda’s purports: ‘Mother Pārvatī could not appreciate Citraketu’s position, and therefore she cursed him, but when she understood the instructions of Lord Śiva [her husband] she was ashamed … and covered her face with the skirt of her sari, admitting that she was wrong in cursing Citraketu’. (Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 6.17.35, 36)
However, earlier in this wonderfully intricate narrative, we learned:

The difficulty was that Citraketu, having become a great devotee of Lord Viṣṇu, Saṅkarṣaṇa, was somewhat proud at having achieved Lord Saṅkarṣaṇa’s favour and therefore thought that he could now criticise anyone, even Lord Śiva. This kind of pride in a devotee is never tolerated … Mother Pārvatī was justified in punishing Citraketu, for Citraketu impudently criticised the supreme father, Mahādeva … Acting through the heart of Pārvatī, the Lord, who is situated in everyone’s heart, cursed Citraketu in order to end all his material reactions. (Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 6.17.10, 15, 17)

Given this explanation, was there a need for Pārvatī to hide her face in shame? Yes, for by doing this, instead of an argument to establish who was ‘right’ and who was ‘wrong’, we find Pārvatī acknowledging her husband’s greatness, his joking exchange with Citraketu and Citraketu’s amazing devotional qualities. Yet, at the same time, her curse remains in tact for the reasons Śrīla Prabhupāda mentions above. The exchange is a beautiful interplay of maturity, humility, knowledge and detachment—a tapestry of harmony despite differences.

The inability to hear and the inability to speak in such a way that we can be heard creates a husband and wife who ‘constantly make material endeavours to eliminate their unhappiness and unlimitedly increase their pleasure but who inevitably achieve exactly the opposite result’. (Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 11.3.18)

(4) Self-righteousness

At the time of initiation we solemnly vow to avoid intoxication, illicit sex, meat eating and gambling and to chant sixteen rounds of the mahā-mantra daily. To preserve these holy vows that we take before the Deity, before the fire and before the Vaiṣṇavas are the most important practices in our spiritual life. Caring for one another means protecting these principles in each other’s lives by our example and by our words.

Yet, if the husband or the wife is not following these principles, we do not have the right to reject that person because we feel superior. The day may come when the roles are reversed, for pride leads to a loss of austerity. Without being condescending and self-righteous, the one who is strict can humbly help the lax one, and the lax one must be willing to accept that help. This is teamwork, an exchange of affection in which one person’s misfortune of distraction becomes turned around by the other person’s gift of focus.
If we have too high an estimation of ourselves, we will make our āśrama into a war zone. This war may not be over fundamentals, like the regulative principles, but over more minor infractions—wasting time, wasting money, inappropriate behaviour, harsh language, and so forth. Whatever the cause of upset, the discussion and the mood can still be good-natured and hopeful instead of angry and accusative. Contempt is a corrosive that over time breaks down the bond between husband and wife. In the exchange between Pārvatī and Śiva quoted above, instead of contempt and pride, we find light-heartedness and submission. Since both of them are honourable, it is natural for them to honour each other.

For one who cares about another, confronting that person is not easy; the act has a great potential for arrogance, for to confront is to assume a position of moral superiority over the other—we confront because we want to change the course of that person’s life. The reality is that at times, one does know better about a certain matter than the other, and one is obliged to confront the other with the problem. To do this effectively, we must stringently examine the value of our ‘wisdom’ and our motives behind offering it. (Peck, 1978) This self-scrutiny and self-doubting requires the unusual combination of meekness and strength. To fail to confront when confrontation is required is as detrimental as self-righteous condemnation. When circumstances require it, a partner must sparingly and carefully confront the other, and in turn, submit to being confronted by the other.

(5) Quitting (in a non-abusive relationship)

In marriage, commitment is a journey by two people who have oneness in purpose. When we unearth the taproot of commitment, we come to our commitment to the Supreme Lord Kṛṣṇa, from whom the quality of commitment originally emanates, in whom it eternally reposes, and who Himself is the perfection of commitment. Sri Kṛṣṇa says: ‘To those who are constantly devoted to serving Me with love, I give the understanding by which they can come to Me. To show them special mercy, I, dwelling in their hearts, destroy with the shining lamp of knowledge the darkness born of ignorance’. (Bhagavad-gītā 10.10–11) The Lord is unwaveringly committed to selflessly serving those who serve Him selflessly.

Marriage is difficult; once that fact is accepted, it no longer matters. Sometimes, because of false ego, there may be tremendous conflict and disagreement between husband and wife, but if, in this darkness, their mutual commitment to their relationship prevails, that commitment can carry their relationship beyond its troubles to greater intimacy. When quitting is not an option and is not justified, the alternative—sooner or later—is overcoming the difficulty. Difficulties are inevitable, but overcoming them—not quitting—is optional and requires our discipline, courage and wisdom. Our reward is to again resonate, to grow in kindness, in trust and in trustworthiness. Problems and conflict are not an opportunity to quit but to move forward, to become unstuck. As Kṛṣṇa is mystical, so non-negotiable commitment to His service is also mystical because, by His grace, we can deal with a problem when we take responsibility for it. When the Lord sends us a test, He simultaneously gives us the ability to pass that test if we so desire. ‘The Lord is so kind to His devotee that when severely testing him the Lord gives him the necessary strength to be tolerant and to continue to remain a glorious devotee’. (Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 8.22.29–30)

In his last speech to the members of the Gauīya Maṭha, delivered on 23 December 1936, Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī Ṭhākura spoke on remaining committed despite obstacles:
Living in this world one has to face many kinds of difficulties. It is not our job to try and remove those difficulties. Nor should they depress us … We have no attachment or hostility towards anyone in this world. All arrangements of this world are temporary. Everyone has an indispensable need for the Absolute Truth. May all of you with one goal and in harmony with each other, attain the right to serve the original āśraya-vigraha [Kṛṣṇa].

We become a husband or a wife as a service to Kṛṣṇa. Difficulties are not a reason to stop that service or to become discouraged. They are an opportunity, however painful, to serve with fewer conditions. In the end, that self-sacrifice becomes self-enhancement because, for a devotee, sacrifice is an offering to please the Lord. Sacrifice is the surrender of something desirable for the sake of something having a higher claim. We surrender quitting so that we can please Śrīla Prabhupāda.

(6) Selfishness

If we focus on our own needs and negate our partner, the relationship can’t last, and if we give up who we are to please our partner, we may suffocate and become frustrated, resentful and depressed. One who is self-controlled doesn’t need to lord over another, and neither does that person need to be lorded over by another. Marriage is a balance between satisfying ourself and satisfying our partner. It is maintaining an awareness of the other person and that person’s desires, even as the other maintains an awareness of us and our wishes. It is putting ourself out, when necessary, to satisfy the other person’s feelings and needs. Marriage is sincerely and respectfully discerning what is best for everyone.

For example, ‘the first duty of a chaste woman is to carry out the order of her husband’. (Śrī Caitanya-caritāmṛta, Antya-līlā, 7.106) Yet, in Rāmayana we find that when Rāma ordered His wife, Sītā, to remain in the kingdom until His return from banishment, Sītā, renowned as one of five supremely chaste women, insisted that she accompany Rāma. Rāma’s reasoning was that He had been banished, not Sītā, and that forest life would be difficult and dangerous for her. But Sītā felt that her place was to be with Rāma instead of alone in Ayodhyā. Had Sītā automatically subordinated herself to Rāma’s will, she would not have been true to herself. Similarly, had Rāma insisted that Sītā remain behind—for many sound reasons—He would have dishonoured Sītā’s desire. Sītā gave up a comfortable life so that she could fulfil her need to be with Rāma, and Rāma gave up His vision of a safe life for Sītā so that He could please her by allowing her to come with Him. Reason and logic have been delicately tempered by needs and feelings. Both must be taken into consideration for a couple’s well-being, so neither feels ignored or suppressed.

Another beautiful interplay of selflessness is when the brāhmaṇa Sudāmā’s wife suggested that her poverty-stricken husband see his friend, Lord Kṛṣṇa, in Dvārakā. Śrīla Prabhupāda writes, ‘The wife was not anxious for her personal comfort, but she felt concerned for her husband, who was such a pious brāhmaṇa’. (Kṛṣṇa, The Supreme Personality of Godhead, Ch. 80) Sudāmā agreed to go to Dvārakā not because he wanted to ask Kṛṣṇa for help but because he wanted to see the Lord and to satisfy his wife, who was so eager to satisfy him.

Selfishness is closely related to the inability to hear, as our preoccupation with ourself makes us deaf to another’s voice. To overcome this, we can learn to consider all matters thoughtfully, with due respect to our spouse’s point of view. This honest approach, which avoids manipulation and partiality to one’s own insights, facilitates finding a better conclusion than one person alone could have attained. It is unlikely that the best possible decision will be made if one person imposes his or her will on the other. After all, our will, our deep conviction of what is undoubtedly ‘right’ and Kṛṣṇa conscious, may actually be the zeal experienced by neophyte devotees, who, in the words of Kṛṣṇadasa Kavirāja Gosvāmī, are ‘very expert in arguing though they have no sense of advanced devotional service’. (Śrī Caitanya-caritāmṛta, Madhya-līlā, 2.93) In other words, without our being aware of it, our dearly held opinion may cloak selfishness.

When differences are humbly honoured and balanced, the husband and wife find the room they need for spiritual growth, both individually and as a satisfied couple. A mutual spirit of goodwill shifts their focus from themselves to the other. Each wants the best for the other and each feels the other is an ally.
What makes it smoother