9 December 2008, 3:25 p.m., Chennai
My arrival in Chennai was met with a cheerful Indian minister, Roy Knight, and three of the local congregation’s elders. The photo shows me with Roy, wearing the welcome lei that was made by his brothers and sister. This family lives together in a comfortable largish home that is something like a small condominium, Indian style – simple with marble floors and a central living area. I was given the missionary’s room, for guests who come to visit or help with the churches here. It is comfortable, very clean, and humid. Mosquitoes are amidst, but I have a room air conditioner should I decide to give in to customary American habits. Roy is a second generation Christian, born in 1979. His parents were baptized by J.C. Bailey, famous Canadian missionary to India from the 1960s or so. Roy became the evangelist here, with a congregation that now has two services on Sundays – one in Tamil (the regional language) for about 140, and one in English for about 70. Roy also evangelizes throughout the area, and has established or helped to establish congregations from Chennai to Delhi. He goes out often, on week-long trips, to encourage and help the congregations. On some of his travels, he himself is persecuted often, and he showed me the marks of beatings, burnings, and a nailing in his leg, all by Hindu priests who are not happy with an Indian trying to convert people to Christianity. He assured me that the area around Chennai is safe, and in fact the local authorities protect the church. So I will be with the Knight family for three nights, looking around at some of the Christian ministries, as well as exploring more Indian religion and culture.
I hesitate to mention Hindu persecution of Christians, for it reinforces the stereotypes that are all too common, that “all of the pagans” and “unbelievers” are out to get Christians, and (though not synonymous) Americans. In fact, there are radical Muslims and radical Hindus, radical Buddhists and yes radical Christians. Extremists in every culture and religion use their insecurities to justify plays of power and control, and even persecution and terrorism. But if one thing has become clearer to me on this trip, it is that most Indians – be they Hindus, Buddhist, Sikhs, Jains, Muslims, Christians, or atheists – are just trying to make their way in a complex and sometimes difficult world, and most want the same things that we want – family, health, peace, food, shelter, and joy.
I hope to have more to say on this later. slp

Homelessness, Love, and More

Monday, 8 December 2008, 8:45 p.m. Kolkata, West Bengal, India.

“You remember yesterday I saw you and asked for milk for my child, and you did not help?” So spoke the tearful woman, walking up to a young Western couple on Sudder Street as I passed by. I heard her well, for earlier in the evening she had said the same words to me. And because she was not asking for money, and had a good story, and milk is difficult to deny, I helped her buy the $4 box of powdered milk. I doubted at the time, but gave the money and watched her get the milk. And then later, my doubts are confirmed: she is part of an elaborate begging business in Kolkata. But don’t single out Kolkata; beggars make a living with creative schemes all over this country. I’ve struggled with the beggars – usually young children about 5 or 6, taking along and reaching for pockets, clinging to arms and risking life to keep up with me as a I maneuver through taxis, buses, rickshaws, and people; or women, with or without babies or children, insisting that they need money to eat and live. Sometimes they are the boys, or men, with stub arms and/or legs, moving along on roller carts, or dragging themselves through traffic and cattle, or just sitting or lying down, mumbling or crying out as I pass by. They are everywhere – beyond the glitter of special streets of course – and they are persistent.

How should I feel? How must I respond? My Kolkata host, Rupa, met me for dinner, and among our conversation topics, she confirmed my understandings. Begging is an industry here, and many clearly hungry looking people are working in elaborate systems of sympathy catchers. But indeed poverty and homelessness is a real problem here, and many, many people need food, shelter, and a way out of despair. Rupa, a doctoral student studying women in nursing homes, and the daughter of wealthy Bengali parents, says that she will always buy food for them, but never give money, and that generally those who beg and/or cling are not “real beggars.” During my trip, so far I have given change to some people, but by and large I have walked past, or said “No!” quite firmly, and I have been troubled by this. So today I helped the woman with milk powder, and then I hear her sale again. But my deed was done sincerely, and her possible deception is no count.

Poverty and homelessness, disease and hunger, are not limited to India of course, but India has so much of it. Rupa confirmed other impressions: The situation cannot be blamed on religion – after all, what religion? Indian religion is so very complex and pluralistic – but on a combination of overpopulation and a general resistance to accept Western modernization. Changes are gradually happening, but the sheer numbers of people will make deter any quick end to begging, poverty, and hunger. As a Christian with great affinity for Indian culture, the whole matter is greatly troubling; I don’t like walking past obviously hurting people, I don’t like the firm “no”, I don’t like the self-imposed guilt, and I don’t like the view of India that is given.

I suppose Mother Teresa struggled with some of these feelings too. A special blessing of this trip was a visit to her “Motherhouse” today, where her body is entombed in a simple, white stone structure. There are at least three main buildings in Kolkata that are Missionaries of Charity sites: this Motherhouse, where some of the nuns live and where she lived; a house for the dying, where those who have not hope and no home are given hospice during their last days; and an orphanage, where children are nurtured and loved, whatever their needs. The house for the dying, interestingly, is located very near to the great Kali temple (see the earlier posting). I missed it, but I did find the orphanage, where a sister guided me through sections for babies, toddlers, and handicapped children. In the toddler section, I was surrounded by boys who hugged my legs and jumped to say hello. The entire place was bright, cheerful, clean, and happy. At one point, in a room where physically disabled children were playing, I watched a sister massaging a child’s leg and carefully twisting her ankle, much like the way Mother Teresa does in a film that is widely distributed. What if there were hundreds of similar Christian houses in Kolkata?

I continue to be amazed at the way women work hard here. Often I see men playing cards, or drinking chai, but then I see women doing heaving lifting, or sweeping endlessly the dirt in the streets. After visiting the orphanage, I met this woman who had just sat down her five-gallon-ish water bucket, which she was to carry to a pile of mud and cement, for mixing. She was sweating, and showing a sigh on her face. On impulse, or male Western pride, I grabbed the bucket and carried it for her. She could only laugh, and I feared that I had offended. But later, I saw her again walking down the road, and she looked out and me, our eyes met, and she smiled. Another nice moment.

On this second and last day in this grand city, I also wandered through the university section, College Street, where the book stalls never end. I took a few wrong turns getting there, finding a market complete with chicken and goat slaughtering/sales, fish selling and cleaning, cow selling, and every variety of fruit and vegetable imaginable. I also found trash, and people rummaging through trash, and more of the views of life in the older parts of Indian towns. Suffice it to say, I learned today that my impressions of Kolkata as a clean city were a bit misguided; Kolkata was the British capitol for many years, and several sections retain that flavor of stately colonial days, but Kolkata is every bit as complex and chaotic as any other Indian town.

It is certainly more religiously diverse than some cities, with a large Christian and Muslim population. I also met a man today who is Buddhist. Perhaps I have given a wrong impression regarding religion in general, and Hinduism in particular. As Rupa confirmed, while most people are Hindu (at least 85%), not all who are Hindu are active in practicing daily prayer/puja, or in going to a temple. Probably no more than 60% of Hindus, overall, are what we might call “active” Hindus. The terms and generalizations are unfair, but they do help to understand a common global phenomenon: while nations claim a certain religious identity/heritage, not all citizens are active worshipping adherents. Even in India, however, the religious celebrations become national celebrations and family gatherings, and much the way we in America celebrate Thanksgiving as a semi-religious holiday, Indians honor special god celebrations as family and national identity and renewal.

So once again, similarities abound. Our daily lifestyles are quite different in many ways, but our need for community, spirituality, and identity are common.

And of course, so are are failings, our huddled hungry and homeless, our own powerlessness to heal, our own dependence on God.
slp