God Parents

Often the reason we are hesitant to carry our own inner gold is because it’s dangerously close to God. Our gold has God-like characteristics, and we cannot bear the weight of it.

In Indian culture, there’s a time-honored custom that you have the right to go to another person — a man, a woman, a stranger — and ask him or her to be the incarnation of God for you. There are strict laws that if the person agrees, you must never pester that person. You must never put a heavy weight on that person — it’s weighty enough as it is — and you must not engage in any other kind of relationship with that person. You don’t make friends, you don’t marry that person, and you don’t buddy-buddy. The person becomes a kind of patron saint for you.

J. Krishnamurti was a wonderful man. Lots of people put gold on him. One afternoon we went for a walk, and a little old lady was kneeling alongside the path. We just walked by. Later he told me, “She has put the image of God on me. She knows what she’s doing. She never talks or asks anything of me. But when I go for a walk, she somehow knows where I’m going, and she’s always there.” What was most touching was his attitude. If she needed this, he would do it.

This was the original meaning of the term “godfather” and “godmother.” That person is the carrier of God-like qualities for you. Nowadays we think of a godparent as the one who will take care of you materially in case your parents aren’t able to see it through. But the original meaning was of someone who carries the subtle part of your life, a parent in an interior, God-like way. It’s a wonderful custom. Most parents are worn out just seeing their child through to physical maturity. That’s a lot. But we need someone else who isn’t bothered with the authority, like “How much is my allowance this week?” Originally being a godparent was a quiet arrangement for holding a child’s gold.

When I was sixteen I desperately needed someone like that. So I appointed a godmother and godfather, and those two people saved my life. They knew instinctively the duties of this need, and they fulfilled them. My godmother died when I was twenty-two, and I wasn’t ready to give her up. It was the most difficult loss of my life. I was forced to take my gold back before I was ready. My godfather lived until I was in my fifties, and I was ready then to let go of him.

I respect the idea of godparents. Sometimes young people come circling around me, and I bring up this language. “Do you want a godfather?” If it fits, we work out the necessary laws. “You may have this out of me, and you must not ask that out of me.” These are the old godparent laws. It’s a version of the incarnation of God in Indian custom.