Temples, Fishermen, and Children

Wednesday, 10 December 2008. Chennai, Tamil Nadu, India. 10:35 p.m.

South India is home to numerous towns and cities with elaborate and intricately designed Hindu temples. Here one finds the best examples in the world of what is called Dravidian architecture, developed by the Palluva people who ruled here in the 800s A.D. Dravidian temples are crowded, “busy” to the Western eye, formations with detailed carvings everywhere. They usually have central shrines, but sometimes the carvings overwhelm everything else. I was chauffeured – along with the minister, a driver, and three elders – to Mahabalipuram, about 40 miles south of Chennai, on the Bay of Bengal. Here the famous Shore Temple includes important anaconic (non-human-representational) images of the sustaining god Shiva. Mahabalipuram is a treasure trove for art, architecture, and religious lore scholars, but I found the more simple relief carvings called “Arjuna’s Penance” the most to my liking. Here, among the elephant and other figures, stands the warrior Arjuna in a pose of repentance (balancing on one leg) while the great god Shiva stands over him.

These images provide an opportune time to speak about the way Hindu art tells the great stories of the gods and goddesses. For a large population of people who could not read or write, images portraying the stories on temple buildings and rock walls make the stories accessible, and they keep the stories alive for ever new generations. (In Christian medieval Europe, a similar approach is used to tell the biblical stories, through mosaics, frescoes, and sculptures in cathedrals.) But for the Hindus, it is not simply a matter of communication. As Huston Smith says, “In Hinduism art is religion, and religion is art.” Part of what he is saying, I think, is that Hindus embrace all of life – materially, culturally, socially, and spiritually – in their religion.

In Chennai, I have been a bit frustrated, for I wanted to see and experience “real Indian religion and life,” but I’m spending almost all of the time with Church of Christ evangelists while visiting area congregations. And yet, once again my presuppositions and assumptions have been exposed: my hosts are indeed living “real Indian religion and life,” as second and third generation Christians, largely independent of American influences. They are certainly conservative, seeing themselves as separate from the denominations, but they are living a faith on their own terms in their own culture.

I’ve also been disappointed that my hosts here seem uninterested in seeing varieties of Hindu temples, and that they seem not to know much about Hinduism. But then I realized that (a) having anything to do with Hinduism connotes to them participation with idolatry, and (b) that they know about as much about Hinduism as an average Texas evangelical Christian knows about Roman Catholic rituals and saints. This has been a major discovery for me, but it does highlight the long tradition of rich religious diversity in India.

Two moments with these Christians captured my heart today. First, Roy (the Chennai evangelist) introduced me to two fishermen who had been persecutors but now were Christians; they welcomed me with this huge flower thing that I’m now told is called a samandi. Then they took me to meet Mary, the first convert in Mahabaliparum, who then brought the fishermen to Christ. We shared drinks and prayer in Mary’s home (her husband was away fishing), which also serves as the church for 14 members.

Notice in the photo: this home/church is no more than a lean-to shelter, given to the couple after the tsunami took their earlier home away. The Chennai church provided Mary with a boat, which she and the other Christians use to provide for their basic needs, giving 25% back to the church.

Mary and her husband, after they realized that they could not take care of their children, gave them up to the Chennai church’s childrens home for orphans. Most of the children there have been picked up from the street, or left at the church’s doors. The little girl I’m holding was one of two left wrapped in paper at the church building in Chennai. Our visit to the childrens home was celebratory; the children all treated me like a king, sang songs and quoted verses, and held my hands. Notice in the photos how very basic this “home” is. Simple or not, the home has helped many children for the last ten years, including one young man I met at morning prayer who had just graduated from college.

By CPS standards in America, this home would be shut down certainly, and if it wasn’t, none of us would likely want to live there loving the children. And by American freedom standards, none of us would want to call Mary’s lean-to shack a home, and we’d certainly not want it taken over by the whole church at any given moment.

We have much to learn.
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