Why Śrīdhara Svāmī? The Makings of a Successful Sanskrit Commentary

Abstract

Śrīdhara Svāmī’s commentary on the Bhāgavata Purāṇa, called Bhāvārtha-dīpikā and composed sometime between the mid-fourteenth to the mid-fifteenth centuries, has exerted extraordinary influence on later Bhāgavata commentaries, and indeed, on Vaiṣṇava traditions more generally. This article raises a straightforward question: “Why Śrīdhara?” Focusing on the Caitanya Vaiṣṇava tradition, particularly Jīva Gosvāmī, for whom Śrīdhara is foundational, we ask, “What is it about Śrīdhara Svāmī’s commentary—both stylistically and theologically—that made it so useful to Caitanya Vaiṣṇavas and other Bhāgavata commentators?” This question, to the extent that it can be answered, has implications for our understanding of Śrīdhara’s theology as well as the development of the early Caitanya Vaiṣṇava tradition, but it can also lend insight into the reasons for Śridhara’s influence more generally in early modern India.

1. Introduction

Śrīdhara Svāmī’s commentary on the Bhāgavata Purāṇa, called Bhāvārtha-dīpikā and composed sometime between the mid-fourteenth to the mid-fifteenth centuries, has exerted extraordinary influence on later Bhāgavata commentaries, and indeed, on Vaiṣṇava traditions more generally. Subsequent commentators on the Bhāgavata Purāṇa are consistently aware of, and often deeply engaged with, the Bhāvārtha-dīpikā. This is particularly true of the Caitanya Vaiṣṇava commentaries by Sanātana Gosvāmi, Jīva Gosvāmī, Viśvanātha Cakravartī, and others, but also to a lesser extent Vīrarāghava Ācārya’s Śrīvaiṣṇava and Vijayadhvaja Tīrtha’s Dvaita commentaries.1 Śrīdhara’s outsize, although not universal,2 influence becomes further evident as we move to vernacular commentaries on the Bhāgavata and derivative works, such as Bahirā Jātaveda’s Marathi commentary, Bhairavī,3 and Viṣṇupurī’s anthology of Bhāgavata verses, called Bhakti-ratnāvalī.4

Śrīdhara’s pervasive influence has meant that scholars of the Bhāgavata have tended to assume his reading as the natural sense of the text. Daniel Sheridan argues that scholarly overreliance on Śrīdhara’s commentary “does a disservice to Śrīdhara, who has not been studied in his own right by contemporary critical scholarship” (Sheridan 1994, p. 47). In other words, by assuming Śrīdhara’s reading as natural, we ignore his genius in offering an interpretation of the Purāṇa that dominated the subsequent commentarial tradition. Sheridan therefore calls for further study of Śrīdhara Svāmī and his commentary, which, he says, would lead to “understanding of the reason for the great authority of Śrīdhara’s ostensibly Advaitin commentary within the later Vaiṣṇava schools” (Sheridan 1994, p. 47). Indeed, despite Śrīdhara’s inestimable influence on Vaiṣṇava traditions from the fifteenth century onward, he remains an enigma for both theologians and historians of Vaiṣṇavism. Śrīdhara is generally regarded as a sannyāsī within Śaṅkara’s Advaita tradition,5 and yet his predilection for bhakti has made him a torchbearer for Vaiṣṇava commentators. In the mid-sixteenth century, the Caitanya Vaiṣṇava thinker Jīva Gosvāmī acknowledges Śrīdhara’s enigmatic theology by suggesting that “the most excellent, esteemed Vaiṣṇava Śrīdhara Svāmī” sometimes included nondualist views in his commentary in order to entice Advaitins to appreciate the greatness of the personal Deity.6 Śrīdhara himself adds to the confusion by stating that he wrote his commentary on the insistence of his sampradāya.7 Here, we will set aside questions of commentarial intent and formal affiliation, and instead attempt to answer Sheridan’s call by examining Śrīdhara’s theological standpoint and its influence on later commentators.

This article raises a straightforward question: “Why Śrīdhara?” Focusing on the Caitanya Vaiṣṇava tradition, particularly Jīva Gosvāmī, for whom Śrīdhara is foundational, we shall ask, “What is it about Śrīdhara’s commentary—both stylistically and theologically—that made it so useful to Caitanya Vaiṣṇavas and other Bhāgavata commentators?” This question, to the extent that it can be answered, has implications for our understanding of Śrīdhara’s theology as well as the development of the early Caitanya Vaiṣṇava tradition, but it can also lend insight into the reasons for Śridhara’s influence more generally in early modern India.

2. Why Choose an Advaitin?

The first matter that looms before us is the question of Śrīdhara Svāmī’s Advaita leanings. Jīva Gosvāmī was clearly aware of the Bhāgavata commentaries found within the Mādhva school of Dvaita Vedānta. He mentions Madhva’s Bhāgavata-tātparya-nirṇaya by name in his Tattva-sandarbha, and if we are to accept B.N.K. Sharma’s dating of Vijayadhvaja Tīrtha (fl. 1410–1450), then the latter’s complete commentary, which closely follows Madhva’s work,8 was well established by Jīva’s time. Furthermore, in his six-part Bhāgavata-sandarbha, Jīva argues forcefully against the core philosophical positions of classical Advaita,9 and yet he takes the Bhāvārtha-dīpikā—which by Jīva’s own account shows clear Advaitic tendencies—as foundational for his theological project. Jīva follows—indeed, reiterates—Śrīdhara’s interpretation for almost every Bhāgavata verse he quotes. Why?

We could, of course, point to Śrī Caitanya’s well known statement in Kṛṣṇadāsa Kavirāja’s Caitanya-caritāmṛta (3.7.133–34) that any commentary not based on Śrīdhara is illegitimate:

I know the Bhāgavata by Śrīdhara Svāmī’s grace. Śrīdhara Svāmī is the guru of the world, and I take him as my guru. If you arrogantly write anything to surpass Śrīdhara, people will not accept such confused meanings.10

No doubt this would have been a significant factor for Jīva. Nevertheless, such an explanation only shifts the problem back by a generation, for we might ask the same question of Caitanya: “Why Śrīdhara?” Furthermore, pointing to the Caitanya-caritāmṛta is a tad circular, for this canonical account of Caitanya’s life is deeply influenced by the theology of the Vṛndāvana Gosvāmīs, including Jīva himself.11

Another way in which scholars have attempted to resolve this question is by claiming that Jīva only pays lip service to Śrīdhara (because of Caitanya’s insistence) and that, in fact, Jīva is not committed to Śrīdhara because of the latter’s Advaita leanings. This line of thought is put forth by Stuart Elkman, building upon similar reasoning by S.K. De (1961). Elkman writes:

…it seems likely that Jīva’s claims to follow Śrīdhara represent more a concession to Caitanya’s beliefs than a personal preference on his own part. In actual fact, Jīva follows Śrīdhara on only the most minor points, ignoring all of his Advaitic interpretations…

(Elkman 1986, p. 180).12

Elkman and De’s argument is grounded on two assumptions that turn out to be suspect, namely, that Śrīdhara’s institutional affiliation makes him the type of Advaitin that Jīva argues against in his writings, and that therefore Jīva’s use of Śrīdhara must be nothing more than a “concession” on “the most minor points.” We shall address the first assumption in due course, but as for the second, we can note here that a careful reading of Jīva’s Bhāgavata-sandarbha and Krama-sandarbha simply does not support Elkman’s view. Jīva quotes, paraphrases, or draws salient points from the Bhāvārtha-dīpikā nearly every time he comments upon a Bhāgavata verse in his Bhāgavata-sandarbha. Jīva follows Śrīdhara’s interpretation in most cases, but when the latter’s Advaita tendencies create difficulties for Vaiṣṇava dualism, Jīva finds ways of supporting Śrīdhara’s interpretation—first, by harnessing the Caitanyaite bhedābheda theology (emphasizing the nondifference side) to create space for nondualist interpretations, and second, by layering atop Śrīdhara an alternate interpretation that is more appropriate to Caitanya Vaiṣṇavism.13 In essence, Jīva functions as an interpreter of Śrīdhara—explaining and expanding his ideas, clarifying ambiguities, rereading him in light of Caitanya Vaiṣṇava theology, and resolving potential theological conflicts, but never “ignoring” him, as Elkman suggests.14 Kiyokazu Okita finds a similarly complex dynamic at work in the Krama-sandarbha, where Jīva sometimes follows Śrīdhara exactly (Okita 2014, p. 82), sometimes diverges from him (p. 104), and occasionally fills in ambiguities (p. 122), but always works hard to show his conformity with Śrīdhara (pp. 105, 123). Okita concludes that given “the fact that Jīva was aware of Madhva’s works,” it is striking “how much attention he pays to Śrīdhara’s commentary” (p. 124).

So the question remains: how are we to make sense of Jīva’s commitment to Śrīdhara, given the latter’s Advaitic tendencies? Perhaps the real problem lies with the question itself, which presupposes hard boundaries between dualism and nondualism, static conceptions of sampradāya affiliation, and normative notions of what constitutes Advaita and Vaiṣṇava. These reifications have led many to express surprise at Śrīdhara’s devotional theology despite his Advaita affiliation, or Caitanya’s rejection of māyāvāda despite his love for Śrīdhara, or Jīva’s frequent use of the Bhāvartha-dīpikā despite his commitment to “pure Vaiṣṇavism.” Michael Allen has recently called for a broadening of our understanding of Advaita Vedānta, to include not only “a received canon of Sanskrit philosophical works,” such as those of Śaṅkara and Maṇḍana Miśra, but also “narratives and dramas, ‘syncretic’ works blending classical Vedāntic teachings with other traditions, and perhaps most importantly, vernacular works…” (Allen 2017, p. 277)15 This larger world he calls “Greater Advaita Vedānta,” and he includes Śrīdhara Svāmī within it.16 Although Allen intentionally leaves the boundaries of this world fuzzy, he suggests that “the acceptance of māyāvāda, or illusionism, might provide a useful touchstone for determining how deep the influence of Advaita Vedānta runs in a given work” (Allen 2017, p. 293). If that is the case, then we will need to leave out the canonical Caitanya Vaiṣṇava texts from this rubric, as māyāvada is unacceptable to all of them.

Nevertheless, it is indisputable that the early theologians of the Caitanya school were actively engaged with the Advaita tradition, freely borrowing key ideas and terminology. After all, the doctrine of acintya-bhedābheda includes abheda, nondifference, as one of its key components, even if it is preceded by bheda, or difference. In his Bhāgavata-sandarbha, Jīva is quite happy to adopt concepts from Advaita theologies, including the notion of a kevala-viśeṣya Brahman,17 an unattributed, transcendent reality that would have been anathema to Rāmānuja; the possibility of jīvan-mukti, liberation while living; the categories of svarūpa-lakṣaṇa (essential characteristics) and taṭastha-lakṣaṇa (contingent characteristics) to describe the nature of Brahman;18 and the insistence that ultimate reality is nondual (advaya)19 and thus all beings are part of Kṛṣṇa’s nature, an idea quite unacceptable to Madhva. Each of these concepts is developed differently than in classical Advaita Vedānta, but each also represents a choice on the part of the early Caitanya Vaiṣṇava theologians to not only engage with, but to also adopt concepts from, a tradition whose soteriology they rejected.

Take for example, the notion of jīvan-mukti. Rūpa Gosvāmī defines it quite differently from the way it is understood in Advaita Vedānta,20 but his use of the concept nevertheless represents something significant; Rūpa could have just as easily rejected the possibility of jīvan-mukti altogether, as does Rāmānuja, whose influence is strongly felt in other ways within early Caitanya Vaiṣṇava theology.21 Along similar lines, Rūpa and Jīva are willing to accept the possibility of a state of liberation, namely, sāyujya-mukti, where the individual experiences a state of ontological oneness with Brahman—similar to the way in which Madhusūdana Sarasvatī describes sāyujya-mukti (Lutjeharms 2018, p. 397). The Gosvāmīs regarded such a state as extremely undesirable for a bhakta, but they affirmed its possibility nonetheless. As Rembert Lutjeharms has shown, “the consistent attempt to make space for the experiences of the Advaitins among early Chaitanya Vaishnava theologians seems particularly remarkable” because it forces them to “relinquish” the term mokṣa to the Lutjeharms (2018, p. 403).

We shall give one last example: Jīva Gosvāmī, in his commentary on the third aphorism of the Brahma-sūtra, accepts Śaṅkara’s interpretation of śāstra-yonitvāt, namely, that Brahman is the source of scripture, even though this interpretation is rejected by both Rāmānuja and Madhva. Jīva’s theology takes an eclectic approach toward other Vedāntins,22 and he was working in a milieu where Advaitins were innovative, bhakti-oriented, and open to practices of kīrtana.23 We see evidence of this milieu in the Caitanya-caritāmṛta, where Kṛṣṇadāsa describes a debate between Caitanya and an erudite Advaita sannyāsī of Benaras, Prakāśānanda Sarasvatī. When he meets Caitanya, Prakāśānanda presents a social argument against kīrtana, but not a philosophical one; he praises bhakti as salutary and pleasing, but objects to Caitanya engaging in public singing and dancing in the company of sentimental commoners, instead of studying Vedānta among his sannyāsī peers.24 Indeed, the religious landscape in which early Caitanya Vaiṣṇavas flourished was saturated with an Advaita that was itself saturated with Kṛṣṇa-bhakti.25 Lutjeharms lists no less than twenty-two sannyāsī companions of Caitanya who possibly belonged to an Advaita order, as Caitanya himself did (Lutjeharms 2018, pp. 401–2).

Seen in this context, Śrīdhara’s commitment to Vaiṣṇava-bhakti, Caitanya’s commitment to Śrīdhara, and Jīva’s skillful ease in harmonizing Śrīdhara’s Advaita with Caitanya Vaiṣṇava theology—all become less of a surprise and less of a problem.

3. When Not to Choose Śrīdhara

Nevertheless, the “Why Śrīdhara?” question persists. As we have seen, the Vṛndāvana Gosvāmīs are adept at adopting elements of Advaita that are suitable to their theology. But they are not Advaitins, and there are limits to their willingness to walk that path. What then do we make of Jīva’s statement that he only accepts Śrīdhara in so far as his views are consistent with pure Vaiṣṇavism? What does Jīva mean by the “pure Vaiṣṇava thesis” (śuddha-vaiṣṇava-siddhānta), and which “doctrines of Advaita” (advaita-vāda), interspersed in Śrīdhara’s commentary, does he find unacceptable?26 Centuries later, the Caitanya Vaiṣṇava Vedāntist Baladeva Vidyābhūṣaṇa describes Śrīdhara’s Advaitic statements as “meat on the end of a hook, meant to lure fish” (Elkman 1986, pp. 119–20). What, exactly, is the meat?

Given the presence of multiple influences in Caitanya theology, B.N.K. Sharma’s claim that “pure Vaiṣṇavism” refers to Madhva’s Vedānta appears untenable (Sharma 1981, p. 528). I would suggest, rather, that Jīva can find a way to incorporate nearly all of Śrīdhara’s Advaitic statements into Caitanya Vaiṣṇava theology except for those that employ Advaita theories of illusion, particularly the notion of māyā. The problem is not with māyā as the Lord’s illusive power; that, indeed, is quite compatible with the Caitanya Vaiṣṇava concept of śakti, Kṛṣṇa’s multifaceted energies. Rather, the problem lies with māyā when, in Jīva’s eyes, it is “weaponized” by Advaitins to deny the transcendent reality of Kṛṣṇa’s form, the eternal individuality of living beings, and the substantive nature of this world, thus precluding the possibility of bhakti in the liberated state. As Caitanya says in his conversation with Sārvabhauma Bhāṭṭācārya, “Bhagavān has a blissful form replete with six kinds of majesty, and you call him formless? … Listening to the commentary of a māyāvādī destroys everything!” (Caitanya-caritāmṛta 2.6.152–69).27 Indeed, it is in the context of discussions about māyā that Jīva argues against Advaita in both Tattva-sandarbha and Paramātma-sandarbha,28 speaking strongly against adhyāsa and āropa (superimposition), vivarta (apparent transformation), eka-jīva-vāda (a single living being), pratibimba-vāda (doctrine of reflection), and other concepts grounded in Advaitic ideas of ignorance and illusion. He dedicates significant space in the Bhagavat-sandarbha to arguing that Bhagavān and his abode, associates, and accoutrements are nonmaterial (aprākṛta) and inherent to the Lord’s nature (svābhāvika).

To be sure, Śrīdhara himself is not keen on “weaponizing” māyā. He often explains māyā as the veiling, multi-faceted power of the Lord, without recourse to heavyweight Advaita terminology. He repeatedly misses opportunities to discuss avidyā, āropa, anirvacanīya, vivarta, upādhi, and the rope-snake metaphor. Take, for example, his commentary on Bhāgavata 1.7.6, a verse that describes how bhakti-yoga, as taught in the Bhāgavata Purāṇa, can remove living beings’ ignorance. The verse is crucial to Jīva’s argument for the Bhāgavata’s supremacy as scripture, but the verse is also susceptible to Advaita theories of ignorance. In his commentary, Śrīdhara explains māyā as follows: “The Lord, who possesses all śaktis, who knows everything, who has an eternally manifest, supremely blissful form (svarūpa), controls māyā by his knowledge-śakti. The living being…is bewildered by the Lord’s māyā.” Śrīdhara follows this with a quotation from Viṣṇusvāmī describing the Lord’s powers of knowledge and bliss. Finally, Śrīdhara offers two verses—presumably of his own composition—in praise of the man-lion avatāra, Nṛsimha: “The one who controls māyā is the Lord, and the one pained by her is the living being…. We praise Nṛhari, who continually delights with his own māyā.”29 This, indeed, comes close to the Caitanya Vaiṣṇava understanding of māyā as the Lord’s śakti.

When, however, the opportunities become impossible to ignore, Śrīdhara offers attenuated or ambiguous forays into Advaita notions of ignorance. Here is a good example: The sage Nārada, speaking in verse 1.5.27, states, “I perceive that this sat and asat have been fabricated by my māyā upon me, the transcendent Brahman.” For an Advaitin, this verse offers an irresistible opportunity to expound a theory of superimposition. As Anand Venkatkrishnan points out (Venkatkrishnan 2015a, pp. 49–50), none other than the thirteenth-century Hemādri, author of the Kaivalya-dīpikā commentary on the Bhāgavata-muktāphala, seizes this verse to discuss the rope-snake metaphor. But Śrīdhara nearly avoids the matter altogether, glossing “this sat and asat” as “these gross and subtle bodies,” “my māyā” as “my ignorance (avidyā),” and explaining that “fabricated” means that the body is not substantial or essential.30 In other words, the body is a product of the living being’s own ignorance, although the living being is in fact Brahman. This highly limited application of superimposition of the body upon the self is something any Caitanya Vaiṣṇava can live with.

Occasionally, however, Śrīdhara becomes more explicit in his application of Advaita theories of illusion, and as far as I can tell, these are the only moments when Jīva directly rejects Śrīdhara’s interpretation (instead of simply layering an alternative interpretation, which Jīva does often). A good example of Śrīdhara in a sharper register is the Bhāgavata’s opening verse, which provides ample opportunities for nondualist interpretation. In the third line, Śrīdhara interprets vinimaya as vyatyaya, the false appearance of one element in another, like a mirage seen on a hot surface, water seen in glass, and glass appearing like water—examples that are typically Advaitic.31 Even here, Śrīdhara does not bother to spell out a theory of illusion. Rather, he seems to assume the core concepts of classical Advaita Vedānta as a general background to his work, without feeling the need to delineate or defend them. For him, the essential point is that the world (which he alternately calls true, satya, and false, mithyā) finds its basis in the true reality of Brahman, who has the power to dispel all confusion. Nevertheless, the implication of Śrīdhara’s metaphors is that the world is mere appearance, and Jīva finds this unacceptable. He comes down strongly against this view, calling it a fictitious interpretation (kalpanā-mūla), but never mentions Śrīdhara directly, as he is usually wont to do.

Since the interpretation given here is based on the śruti, other fictitious interpretations are automatically defeated. In those interpretations, fire and the other elements, which were indicated in a general way [in the verse], are explained in a particular way. This does not please the grammarians. If this was what the Bhāgavata meant, it would have said “like water in a mirage” and similarly for the other elements. Moreover, in that [incorrect] view, the threefold creation [trisarga] is not born from Brahman in the primary sense of the word “born”. Rather, the word janma is taken in the sense of superimposition (āropa).32

At this point, Jīva presents several arguments in quick succession as to why superimposition cannot constitute the relationship between the world and Brahman. The disagreeable commentary he is referring to is clearly the Bhāvārtha-dīpikā (1.1.1), which states: “Vinimaya is transposition—the appearance of one thing in another. That [appearance] passes as reality because of the reality of its substrate [i.e., Brahman]. In this regard, the perception of water in fire, that is, in a mirage, is well known.”33

Despite such instances of Advaitic concepts emerging in the Bhāvārtha-dīpikā, there is broad consensus among scholars that Śrīdhara Svāmī is not a radical nondualist.34 In his excellent study of Śrīdhara’s commentary on the catur-ślokī (the four essential verses of the Bhāgavata Purāṇa, as determined by commentators), Okita finds that Śrīdhara’s theology was “closer to Rāmānuja’s nondualism” (Okita 2014, p. 75), as Śrīdhara sometimes affirms the reality of the world and at other times moves closer toward Advaitic understandings of māyā (Okita 2014, p. 123). Sharma finds similar variance (Sharma 1981, pp. 458–59). Indeed, as we have seen above, it is impossible to place Śrīdhara within any predefined Vedantic system, as he moves fluidly and unapologetically from Advaita-leaning positions to more dualistic views.35 This fluidity makes the Bhāvārtha-dīpikā enticing to a broad spectrum of commentators, from a variety of sectarian backgrounds, across the subcontinent.

We have argued here that we must take seriously the fact that Jiva too, with his acintya-bhedābheda theology, is halfway to nondualism, and this makes Śrīdhara an easy choice—except, of course, when the choice is not easy, requiring a delicate interpretive dance on Jīva’s part. We have argued that the acceptability of Śrīdhara’s theology is dependent largely on his stance toward Advaitic theories of illusion. On the one hand, Śrīdhara’s reticence to build an Advaitic theory of māyā, even when there are opportunities to do so, makes it possible for Jīva to use him as a foundation for Caitanya Vaiṣṇava theology. On the other, when Śrīdhara does venture in the direction of māyā, risking the reality of the world and the individuality of the self, we encounter the boundary that Jīva draws in Tattva-sandarbha: “Our interpretation… will be written in accordance with the views of the great Vaiṣṇava, the revered Śrīdhara Svāmī, only when they conform to the strict Vaiṣṇava standpoint.” (Elkman 1986, p. 119).

4. Why Śrīdhara? The Question Revisited

But we have spent much too long on the question of Śrīdhara Svāmī’s Advaitic tendencies and the effect that those tendencies have on his status as the canonical Caitanya Vaiṣṇava commentator. Surely, there must be other reasons for Śrīdhara’s appeal, other ways in which we can answer the question, “Why Śrīdhara?” Indeed there are, and we will now go through them more briefly.

First, we must note Śrīdhara’s special regard for the Bhāgavata itself. The second verse of the Purāṇa proclaims the text’s distinctiveness and preeminence: The Bhāgavata is free of fraudulent dharmas, truthful in content, salutary for listeners, and productive of God’s presence in their hearts. The third line raises a rhetorical question: “This beautiful Bhāgavata was written by the great seer. What then (is the use) of others (kiṁ vā paraiḥ)?”36 Śrīdhara interprets “others” as “other scriptures (śāstraiḥ),” and provides a detailed argument for the Bhāgavata’s superiority to the entire gamut of scriptural texts, including those of the karma-kāṇḍa (Vedic ritual), jñāna-kāṇda (philosophical), and devata-kāṇḍa (devotional) genres. The Bhāgavata, he says, “is superior to all scriptures, including the three kāṇḍas, because it perfectly conveys their meaning. Therefore, this book should be heard continuously.”37 Indeed, Śrīdhara’s conviction in the Bhāgavata’s preeminence is evident in chapter 87 of Book 10, where the Vedas praise Viṣṇu and thus implicitly accept their subordinate status to the Bhāgavata Purāṇa. Śrīdhara, who is normally brief and pointed in his comments, waxes eloquent in this chapter, ending his commentary on each verse with his own verse composition in praise of Nṛsiṁha. There is little doubt that Śrīdhara accords to the Bhāgavata a privileged position above other sacred texts, a stance that likely contributed to the Bhāgavata’s meteoric rise as the preeminent scripture for subsequent schools of Vaiṣṇavism.38 This regard for the Bhāgavata is not to be assumed in other early commentators; Vijayadhvaja Tīrtha, whose commentary would have been available during Jīva’s time, interprets the third line of the Bhāgavata’s second verse differently. He says, in essence: “This beautiful Bhāgavata was written by the great seer [Vyāsa]. What then is the point of dharmic texts written by others (aparaiḥ)? The other Purāṇas shine only as long as the beautiful and highest Bhāgavatam is not visible.”39 He leaves it at that, not comparing the Bhāgavata to any texts beyond the Purāṇas. Another early Bhāgavata commentator, Lakṣmīdhara, does provide an elaborate argument for the Bhāgavata’s preeminence in his Amṛta-taraṅginī commentary,40 but his praise for the Bhāgavata is accompanied by an ardent engagement with the classical Advaita theories of illusion,41 which would have rendered the commentary unacceptable to most Vaiṣṇava writers.42

A second feature of Śrīdhara’s commentary that would have made it particularly appealing to Caitanya Vaiṣṇavas is the central place he accords to Kṛṣṇa in his theology. Let us examine that verse in Book 1, chapter 3, which is of consummate importance to Caitanya Vaiṣṇavas and which Jīva considers to be the mahā-vākya, controlling thesis, of the entire Bhāgavata,43 because it establishes Kṛṣṇa as the original Lord, the source of all other divinities: “These [aforementioned avatāras] are parts and portions of the Supreme Person, but Kṛṣṇa is Bhagavān, the Blessed Lord, himself.”44 Śrīdhara does two interesting things in this commentary: first, he provides a hierarchical typology of avatāras that would have been of great interest to early Caitanya Vaiṣṇava theologians, who develop this into an extensive avatāra classification system. Śrīdhara tells us that some avatāras are aṁśas (parts) of the Supreme Lord, whereas others are kalā (smaller portions) and vibhūtis (powers). He then gives examples of each type, explaining that Matsya and other (major) avatāras are omniscient and omnipotent, but they manifest their śaktis only inasmuch as is useful for their roles. Others, such as the four Kumāras, are possessed by powers of the Lord, such as knowledge, as are appropriate to their respective positions. The second task Śrīdhara takes up in this verse is to explicate the particular position of Kṛṣṇa, and from a Caitanya Vaiṣṇava standpoint, he could not have done it better. “Kṛṣṇa is indeed Bhagavān, none other than Nārāyaṇa. Because he manifests all śaktis, he is the culmination of all [avatāras].”45 Although Caitanya Vaiṣṇavas would regard Nārāyaṇa as a portion of Kṛṣṇa, Śrīdhara is halfway there: he places Kṛṣṇa at the head of all avatāras and identifies him with their origin, Nārāyaṇa. By way of contrast, we can again point to Vijayadhvaja’s comments on this verse, where he takes the word kṛṣṇa as merely a reference to Viṣṇu’s blackish complexion (megha-śyāma), and takes particular care to identify the referent as Śeṣaśāyī, the Lord who lies upon the serpent Śeṣa, calling him the mūla-rūpī, the original form.46 There is no interpretive space here for a Caitanya Vaiṣṇava commentator.

We could point to other elements in Śrīdhara’s theology that make him appealing to Caitanya Vaiṣṇavas, such as his discussion of the power of Kṛṣṇa’s name in the Ajāmila episode,47 or the beginnings of a theory of bhakti-rasa in his commentary on Bhāgavata 10.43.17.48 But in the interest of space, we shall limit ourselves to one final observation about Śrīdhara’s commentarial method that may explain his appeal not just among Caitanya Vaiṣṇavas but among readers of the Bhāgavata more generally.

Despite the theological choices and innovations we have documented above—that demonstrate Śrīdhara’s creative voice as a commentator—his exegetical method is more restrained than most commentators who succeed him. Śrīdhara’s word definitions and grammatical parses tend to be what one would suspect on a first reading of the verse, with little recourse to obscure etymologies or creative resolutions of sandhi. The alternative interpretations, beginning with yad vā, that so delight later Bhāgavata commentators are less frequent in the Bhāvārtha-dīpikā, even when there is ambiguity in grammar or sandhi. Take, for example, the second verse of the Bhāgavata Purāṇa that we examined above. Vīrarāghava and Vijayadhvaja give several alternate explanations of words throughout the verse,49 placing it carefully within the theological frameworks of their own traditions, and thus both commentators have much to say on this important verse. Śrīdhara, on the other hand, offers an alternative gloss to but a single word and does not acknowledge any ambiguity in sandhi. This makes his comments relatively short (although still rather long by his own standard). Śrīdhara’s creative exegesis and theological digressions become even less frequent and more limited in scope as we move further into the Purāṇa. There are, of course, exceptions to Śrīdhara’s typical brevity and exegetical restraint, most obviously in his commentary on the Bhāgavata’s first verse,50 where he offers alternative interpretations of several words, along with two ways to resolve the sandhi of trisargomṛṣā.51 But even here, Śrīdhara is remarkably restrained compared to most other commentators, who sometimes offer multiple, unrelated interpretations of the entire verse, spanning several pages. Indeed, the first verse receives some of the longest and most complex commentaries of any verse in the Bhāgavata.

We can offer one more example of Śrīdhara’s commentarial restraint, from Book 3, chapters 15–16 of the Bhāgavata Purāṇa—the story of Jaya and Vijaya’s fall from grace. Jaya and Vijaya serve as Viṣṇu’s attendants, guarding the innermost gates of Vaikuṇṭha. When the four child-sages, the Kumāras, arrive at these gates seeking to see the Lord, the gatekeepers turn them away, not recognizing the boys’ greatness. The sages become angry and curse the gatekeepers to fall to earth and take three successive births as demonic enemies of Viṣṇu. Jaya and Vijaya instantly recognize their folly and repent, as Viṣṇu hastens to the scene to resolve the situation and give the sages what they had longed for—an audience with the Lord. At this point, the sages also feel deeply remorseful for their angry behavior, but Viṣṇu is unperturbed; he reassures both sides that all this was part of his divine plan. He asks Jaya and Vijaya to accept the curse and requests the sages to ensure that the gatekeepers’ return to Vaikuṇṭha is swift.52

The story of Jaya and Vijaya’s fall from Vaikuṇṭha has intrigued commentators because it demonstrates what is said to be impossible—a liberated devotee of God falling from his divine abode to earth. This is the question that occupies commentators: Did Jaya and Vijaya truly deserve to be cursed and to fall from their posts in heaven? Who is to blame for their cursing—the four child-sages, the gatekeepers, Viṣṇu himself, or some combination of the three parties? The Bhāgavata itself incriminates different individuals at various points in the story, and the commentators duly acknowledge the text’s attributions of guilt. But each commentator also has his own sense of what went wrong and who is truly at fault. Vallabhācārya, for example, makes note of the fact that although Vaikuṇṭha has seven gates, the sages were able to pass through six without difficulty.53 The first six gates represent Viṣṇu’s six excellences—majesty, strength, fame, beauty, wisdom, and renunciation—which the sages were qualified to perceive. But the Kumāras did not possess the quality necessary to enter the seventh gate, namely bhakti. Thus, even before the sages have uttered any curse, Vallabha makes it clear that the sages did not deserve to be there, and so the gatekeepers cannot truly be blamed for obstructing their path.54 Nevertheless, the gatekeepers were not entirely innocent, says Vallabha, for they harbored pride in their status as the Lord’s attendants, and pride is the characteristic quality of demons.

The other Vaiṣṇava commentators tend to be less critical of the sages at the outset, but they too shift their sympathies to Jaya and Vijaya later in the story. Jīva takes the word avadhārya (“ascertained”) to indicate that the gatekeepers had not recognized the four naked boys and thus their offense was unintentional. Vijayadhvaja says that the gatekeepers’ immediate repentance shows that they were not at fault.55 When Viṣṇu beseeches the sages to make his attendants’ exile short, the Vaiṣṇava commentators note the Lord’s heartfelt concern for his devotees. When Viṣṇu finally takes blame upon himself, by claiming that he ordained the curse, Viśvanātha declares that both sides were faultless, since the entire event was set into motion by the Lord for the purpose of intensifying his loving relationships with his devotees.

All throughout the episode, Śrīdhara seems not to have a stake in the argument. He sticks closely to the Bhāgavata’s explicit attribution of guilt, emphasizing the sages’ qualification and the gatekeepers’ mistake.56 When the text says that the gatekeepers’ conduct was displeasing to the Lord, every commentator must explain why it was displeasing. Śrīdhara simply looks to the next chapter, where the fault is identified as disrespect of brāhmaṇas.57 He moves with the narrative, apportioning blame as it is handed out by the text—first to the gatekeepers for insulting brāhmaṇas (3.15.30), then to the sages for cursing two sinless persons (3.16.25), and finally to Viṣṇu for making this part of his masterplan (3.16.26). Śrīdhara makes little attempt to harmonize these conflicting accounts of culpability and causality, focusing instead on the verse at hand and its immediate narrative context.58

5. Conclusions

We have explored the question “Why Śrīdhara?” from two directions. First, we asked, “What was it about early Caitanya Vaiṣṇava theology that made it amenable to Śrīdhara Svāmī?” and second, “What was it about Śrīdhara that made his work so attractive to Caitanya Vaiṣṇava authors (and a wide variety of other commentators)?” As we attempted to answer these questions, we saw the historical and theological confluences that made Śrīdhara Svāmī and the Caitanya Vaiṣṇavas residents of a shared religious landscape, while carefully noting the boundaries between them. We also studied Śrīdhara Svāmī’s distinctive commentarial voice, often presenting itself in paradoxical forms—his creativity as an exegete alongside his restraint, his focus on Kṛṣṇa together with his theological fluidity, and his insistence on following the flow of the text along with his resistance to harmonizing it.

There is a conversation in the Caitanya-caritāmṛta that is worth noting here, for it indirectly points to these facets of Śrīdhara’s method. A Vaiṣṇava named Vallabha Bhaṭṭa visits Caitanya and expresses his dissatisfaction with the Bhāvārtha-dīpikā: “I cannot accept Śrīdhara’s explanations. He explains things by accepting whatever he reads wherever he reads it. There is no consistency [in his explanations], and therefore I do not accept him as the master (svāmī).” (3.113–114). Although couched as a criticism here, these features of Śrīdhara’s work—attention to a verse’s context, little attempt at achieving theological consistency, the lack of an easily-identifiable theological system, reticence toward conspicuous exegetical creativity, and the resulting brevity—have helped make his commentary virtuously synonymous with the plain sense of the Bhāgavata in the eyes of later authors.

And yet there is commentarial play in Śrīdhara’s conservative method—a willingness to dance between opposing poles of dualism and nondualism, to push the boundaries of sampradāya, to dabble in emerging theories of bhakti-rasa, to follow the Bhāgavata’s narratives wherever they might lead. That playfulness allows Śrīdhara to write a lucid commentary and himself remain an enigma, to be claimed by all and belong to none. Perhaps Jīva was right in comparing Śrīdhara’s commentary to a casket of jewels, hiding a cintāmaṇi gem from the eyes of all who were indifferent to its value.59 For whether one followed Śrīdhara’s lead or resisted him, indifference, it seems, was not an option.