QA on humility 6 – When pure devotees take offense, is that because of false ego?

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Q&A on Humility 6 – When Pure Devotees Take Offense, Is That Because of False Ego?

Question:
I had a question about humility that’s been on my mind for some time. In the path of bhakti-yoga, we are often told, “Don’t take offense,” because taking offense is considered a product of the false ego. However, when we read Vedic literature, we see that even pure devotees sometimes seem to take offense. And in one sense, they’re supposed to be our role models.

For example:

• The four Kumaras cursed Jaya and Vijaya when they weren’t allowed into Vaikuntha.
• During Kurukshetra, Bhima refused to lie down to avoid a Brahmastra, due to pride in his identity as a warrior.
• In another pastime, Bhima became angry when something blocked his path in the forest—only to later realize it was Hanuman’s tail.

Aren’t these examples of false ego or taking offense, even among pure devotees? If we are told to never take offense, why do even exalted devotees sometimes do so? How should we understand this?

Answer:
That’s a very insightful and important question. Let’s begin by unpacking the core idea.

Yes, humility is a foundational virtue on the path of bhakti. And yes, taking offense—especially in the spirit of retaliation—is usually seen as a product of false ego. But it’s essential to understand the context and purpose behind the actions of pure devotees in these pastimes.

For instance, we see that the Pandavas fought a war. But their purpose wasn’t personal revenge—it was to establish dharma. There’s a fundamental difference between:

• “You did this to me, so I’ll get back at you,”
  and
• “What you did was wrong and needs to be stopped to protect others.”

In general, at the individual level, it’s best for a devotee to be forgiving. Life in this world is full of misunderstandings and hurts—it’s inevitable. If we live with the aim of always “getting even,” we’ll only become bitter and lose peace of mind.

However, we don’t exist only as individuals. We are also part of families, communities, institutions, or even nations. So sometimes, responsibilities call for corrective action—not out of personal spite, but out of concern for justice, safety, and order.

Take the justice system, for example. If a criminal commits a serious offense, we don’t just say, “Let’s forgive them all.” If forgiveness were the only virtue, then police, courts, and legal systems would be irrelevant. But they exist because punishment serves a necessary function, which includes:

1. Deterrence – To prevent others from doing the same wrong by showing that consequences follow actions.
2. Correction – To prevent the same person from repeating the offense.
3. Acknowledgment of harm – To take the pain of the victim seriously and sometimes compensate for it.

Imagine if someone stole a million dollars—should we just say, “Let it go, forgive them?” No, they should be required to return what they stole. That compensation shows that the loss is taken seriously.

Similarly, when someone is emotionally or physically harmed, that pain shouldn’t be brushed aside under the name of “forgiveness.” Especially in positions of responsibility—whether spiritual, social, or administrative—leaders must act to prevent further harm and uphold justice.

Now, let’s revisit the examples you brought up.

• The Kumaras didn’t curse Jaya and Vijaya simply out of personal ego; their response reflected a brahminical standard being violated.
• Bhima, as a kshatriya, had a responsibility to uphold valor and protect dharma. His reactions, while intense, were not necessarily selfish—they reflected his nature and role.
• Even when anger or pride surfaces, it is often in the lila context, where the Lord orchestrates pastimes to teach different lessons.

So, there’s a difference between:

• Acting with ego-driven offense,
• And acting with righteous indignation or dharmic responsibility.

In bhakti, the ideal is forgiveness, especially in personal dealings. But when a devotee is entrusted with the well-being of others—as a parent, leader, teacher, or protector—they must also act with discernment. If forgiveness is applied indiscriminately, it can empower exploiters and harm innocents.

In the Mahabharata, when Arjuna refused to fight, Krishna didn’t commend him for his humility. Arjuna’s desire not to retaliate was a brahminical impulse. But Krishna reminded him: You are a kshatriya. You have a duty to uphold justice. If Duryodhana remained unchecked, his crimes—like the public humiliation of Draupadi—would only increase, and society would suffer.

Thus, in summary:

• Humility is to not retaliate for personal honor or gain.
• But responsibility may require corrective action—not out of ego, but out of duty.
• The distinction between personal forgiveness and public justice is crucial.

Your question touches on a deep nuance in spiritual practice: how to live humbly without enabling injustice. And our acharyas and scriptures help us navigate that balance by showing how pure devotees respond to different roles and situations.

Does that address your question?

Questioner:
Yes, thank you so much—that makes a lot of sense.