Refusing Soiled Funds
My own satguru set a noble example of living simply, overnighting only in the homes of disciples who live up to their vows, and accepting only good money. He knew that accepting bad money brings in the asuras and binds the receiver, the āśrama or institution to the external world in a web of obligations. How does one know if he has received bad money? When feelings of psychological obligation to the giver arise. This feeling does not arise after receiving good money that is given freely for God’s work. Bad money is given with strings and guilt attached.
Our message to religious institutions, āśramas and colleges is: Don’t take bad money. Look for good, or white, money, known in Sanskrit as śukladāna. Reject bad, or black, money, called kṛishṇadāna. If you don’t know where the money came from, then tactfully find out in some way. How does the donor earn his living? Did the money come from performing abortions, from gambling, accepting bribes, adharmic law practices or shady business dealings? Is it being given to ease the conscience?
Even today’s election candidates examine the source of donations exceeding US$10,000—investigating how the donor lives and how the money was gotten—then either receive the gift wholeheartedly or turn it back. When the source is secret, the source of gain is suspect. When the source is freely divulged, it is freed from such apprehension. In the Devaloka, there are devas, angels, who monitor carefully, twenty-four hours a day, the sources of gain leading to wealth, because the prāṇic bonds are heavy for the wrongdoer and his accomplices.
Imagine, for instance, an arms dealer who buys his merchandise surreptitiously and then sells it, secretly or in a store—shotguns and pistols, machine guns, grenades and missiles, instruments of torture and death. Money from this enterprise invested in a religious institution or educational institution or anything that is doing good for people will eventually turn that institution sour, just like pouring vinegar into milk.
The spiritual leader’s duty is to turn his or her back to such a panderer of bad money and show him the door, just as an honest politician would turn back election donations coming from a subversive source, gained by hurtful practices, lest he suffer the censure of his constituency at a later time, which he hopes to avoid to hold his office. A politician has to protect his reputation. The spiritual leader will intuitively refuse bad money. He doesn’t need money. When money comes, he does things. If it doesn’t come, he also does things, but in a different way, perhaps on a smaller scale.
In Reno, Nevada, for many years the gambling casinos gave college scholarships to students at high schools. Then there came a time of conscience among educators when they could no longer accept these scholarships earned from gambling to send children forward into higher studies. They did not feel in their heart, mind and soul that it was right. Drawing from their example, we extend the boundaries of religion to education and to the human conscience of right conduct on this Earth.
Humans haven’t changed that much. Over 2,200 years ago, Saint Tiruvalluvar wrote in his Tirukural, perhaps the world’s greatest ethical scripture, still sworn on in Indian courts of law in Tamil Nadu: “A fortune amassed by fraud may appear to prosper but will all too soon perish altogether. Wealth acquired without compassion and love is to be cast off, not embraced. Protecting the country by wrongly garnered wealth is like preserving water in an unbaked clay pot” (283, 755, 660).
NANDINATHA SŪTRA 205: TOTAL ABSTINENCE FOR SOME
Śiva’s devotees know that if, despite the help of peers or elders, alcohol becomes a spiritual obstacle or a burden to family or community, the preceptor is duty-bound to deny the privilege altogether. Aum Namaḥ Śivāya.