Et Tu, Deepak?

The Epstein Files Creep Into the Spiritual Domain

It is strange and unsettling to see the name of someone you know (however tangentially) and spent some time with (however briefly) show up in cringy e-mail exchanges with Jeffrey Epstein. I met Deepak Chopra several times, both before he was a household name and after he became a celebrated spiritual teacher on a global scale. I always found him gracious, brilliant, witty, and even humble. We had many mutual friends, and I respected the vital role he’s played in bridging east and west, science and spirituality—a blending I consider one of the most important cultural developments in modern history.

None of which has anything to do with the morality and judgment of being palsy with a convicted sex trafficker. And therein lies a line of enquiry that makes this a fitting topic for a platform called Practical Spirituality.

[A pause for an important qualifier. We don’t know exactly what Deepak did and didn’t do. Sex with girls and young women—or merely the titillation of ogling them—is only one reason men suck up to the likes of Epstein. He was not only a sex trafficker but a masterful influence peddler, and was therefore useful for business and finance connections and opportunities to experience things normally reserved for the super-privileged. More important, my remarks here are not about Deepak as such but of what his presence in the files represents—and he is not the only spiritual leader in them.]

Spiritual leaders are different from political bigwigs, entertainment celebs, academic mavens, and corporate movers and shakers. Few people are shocked when those other big names fall from grace because they weren’t assumed to be graced in the first place. Spiritual teachers, on the other hand, are spokespersons for the wisdom of the ages. They transmit precepts and practices that connect the individual and the cosmic, the human with the Sacred, however they may describe or define it. We therefore expect more of them. With spiritual wisdom, presumably, comes personal transformation, and that includes—again presumably—the development of qualities we hold to be ethical, moral, and of immense value to individual and collective life: love, compassion, honesty, kindness, humility, and a long list of other virtues.

It is usually assumed by congregants in mainstream religions, and by the followers of gurus and students of independent teachers, that the anointed (and self-anointed) humans who give voice to perennial teachings are not just spokespersons but exemplars. They get put on pedestals, even when they don’t want to be up there. Some pedestals are merely footstools while others reach to the clouds, but always the assumption is that the teacher is not just a well-informed, charismatic, skillful communicator, but also embodies—if not perfectly, at least more than most—the traits we think of as “spiritual.”

So, of course, when the teacher is revealed to have all-too-human flaws, it is far more disillusioning than the same discovery about a movie star or a politician. It shouldn’t be though. The view from the pedestal is alluring, the admiration and fawning are addictive, the trappings of wealth and fame are tantalizing, and the shadow runs dark and deep. To paraphrase the Bible, the spirit may be willing but the flesh is often way too weak.

Teachers are human; they are not equipped for the altitude atop pedestals, and we should never put them up there.

This is an old story, and one that, sadly, needs to be repeated over and over again. When I wrote American Veda, I learned there were more misbehaving gurus in the sixties and seventies than I realized, and I had to write about the many scandals. It was the shortest chapter in the book and the hardest to write. Afterward, I naively thought we had learned the right lessons and the abuses would end. Wrong! They kept on keeping on, spreading to a wider range of spiritual environments.

In the spirit of “Something must be done about this!” colleagues of mine created the Association for Spiritual Integrity about eight years ago. I have served on the ASI board the last few years because the non-profit has been doing good work—offering webinars, peer support for spiritual leaders, mediation referrals and support for seekers, educational resources, etc.—and is trying to do more. Nearly a thousand teachers and organizations have become ASI members, which entails agreeing to abide by ASI’s Honor Code of Ethics and Good Practice. We’d love to have all spiritual leaders join (it’s free) and/or do what they can to spread the word about the importance of ethical behavior in their ranks.

Humans being humans—and, let’s face it, men being men—we’ll no doubt see more sex, money, and power abuse in the future. But can we at least put an end to it among spiritual teachers and leaders? After all, to whom much is given much is expected. Make them walk their talk, and hold them accountable when they don’t.