In the
middle of the first century, the Apostle Thomas arrived in India, bearing the
Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ. Laboring in southern India, he performed
numerous miracles and was eventually martyred for the Faith in Moulapore, an
ancient city near Madras. Despite being geographically separated from the rest
of the Orthodox world by Muslim empires for many centuries, Christianity
survived in small pockets into modern times. Although many of these groups
trace their lineage back to the Apostle Thomas, none of these churches remained
in communion with the Orthodox Patriarchates.
In modern
times the Orthodox Church returned to India. Greek merchants built a grand and
richly endowed church dedicated to the Holy Transfiguration in Calcutta
(Kolkata) in 1924, but it was not until the 1980s that an Orthodox mission to
the Indians was established. This occurred with the arrival of Fr. Athanasios
(Antheles), a Greek hieromonk from Egypt. Basing his mission in the village of
Arambah, West Bengal (about ninety miles from Calcutta), Fr. Athanasios built
there a church dedicated to the Apostle Thomas. For the next ten years he
traveled on foot to the surrounding villages, preaching the Gospel. By the time
of his repose in 1990 he had formed twenty-four clusters of believers and
translated the Divine Liturgy, a Service Book, and an Orthodox Catechism into
the local Bengali dialect.
In 1991
Fr. Ignatios (Sennis), a hieromonk from Mount Athos, arrived in West Bengal to
continue Fr. Athanasios’ work. Soon after his arrival Fr. Ignatios established
the Philanthropic Society of the Orthodox Church. The society was formed for
two reasons: first, to provide basic health care and food for the destitute and
starving in a state that has practically no social services; and second, to
protect the Orthodox mission from the West Bengal Communist regime, which
prohibits any kind of missionary activity. While ministering to the physical
needs of the Indian people, the missionaries are also able to spread the
Orthodox Faith.
In 2004
Fr. Ignatios was consecrated Bishop of Madagascar under the Patriarchate of
Alexandria. By the time of his departure from India, the Orthodox Church had
grown to include sixteen parishes, five thousand faithful, ten priests and two
deacons — all under the jurisdiction of Metropolitan Nikitas of Hong Kong and
South East Asia (Ecumenical Patriarchate).
Since
1995 the Orthodox Christian Mission Center (OCMC) has been sending teams to
Calcutta annually. Working with the local clergy, team-members offer catechism
and seminars, and assist with the ongoing mission outreach. In 2006, an
American priest, Fr. Paul Martin, traveled to India as part of an OCMC team, in
order to spiritually and physically feed the hungry of Calcutta.
Our
mission team leader, Fr. Stephen Callos, warned us that Calcutta would be an
assault to all of the senses, and he was right. The eyes, the ears and the
nostrils — but especially the nostrils — find ample reason to take offense. To
say that the city is overpopulated would be an understatement. The eye is
glutted, busy with impressions, and most of these are unpleasant: people
squeezed together in cardboard sheds; shops all a jumble, tightly pressed
within congested
stalls,
bringing to mind the bas-relief on a Hindu temple — or a closed accordion;
noise unremitting, the cries of peddlers and beggars, automobile horns by day
and night, packs of stray dogs howling at the moon. And then there is the chaos
of traffic, no emission control, few stop lights, signs or speed limits; a
multitude of cars, rickshaws, and buses racing about every which way, riders
like rag dolls sitting precariously atop or clinging for dear life to bumpers —
all madness to an occidental. In Calcutta entire families squat near trash
heaps in the streets, with plastic tarps their only protection from the
elements.
But what
is most offensive about this place, and most distinctive, is the smell — the
scent of decay in the hot, wet air — urine, dung, and disease. An essay on
Calcutta, "The City of Dreadful Night," speaks of "The Great
Calcutta Stink": "It is faint, it is sickly, and it is indescribable.
It resembles the essence of corruption that has rotted for the second time —
the clammy odor of blue slime. And there is no escape from it."
Rudyard
Kipling wrote this around the year 1890, but it is as true today as ever. Some
things never change. I still have the dreadful smell of the City in my
nostrils, and there I expect it will stay for some time. Fr. Stephen, who has
represented OCMC in Calcutta four times, says the smell remains with him long
after returning home. As far as I’m concerned, it may never go away.
While
serving the OCMC mission in India I kept recalling the 17th chapter of the Acts
of the Holy Apostles. There St. Paul addresses the Athenians. He sees the
shrines to the gods and acknowledges the Greeks to be in all things very
religious (Acts 17:22). It is telling to see Paul choosing a Greek word that
can mean both "religious" and "superstitious" — and here, I
think, is the key to understanding the people of India, the vast majority of
whom are Hindu. These people are very religious, but also very superstitious.
They worship many strange gods, and one finds little shrines to the gods on
every street — shrines to Kali, Krishna, Shiva, Durga, and others. But towering
above them all is Kali Temple, one of the largest temples in the world
dedicated to any Hindu deity. In a section of town called Kalighat it stands,
an assault to all reason and civility, decayed and primeval, just next door to
Mother Theresa’s Home for the Dying and only blocks away from Holy
Transfiguration Greek Orthodox Church, our home in Calcutta. Gangs of Kali
priests gather in front, hawking, gesticulating. Take note: daily animal
sacrifices are offered here, and the sanctum sanctorum is open to all for a
price! I am accosted when passing in civilian clothes, but when in cassock I am
left alone. See the viscera of goats, thrown in the streets where they decay in
the dust and slime! The stink is intensified, as if the essence of Calcutta is
located here, so near the ancient river Hughli.
I do not
understand this dark Kali and her appeal. I do not understand her heart of
darkness. Yet in Bengal Kali is most popular of all, the goddess of
destruction, black, depicted with bloody tongue, a necklace of skulls and a
skirt of severed arms. Cherubim Ghosh, a young convert to Orthodox Christianity
and our guide in West Bengal, tells me that he had once been devoted to Kali
and at first had difficulty resisting the almost incessant nagging of his
mother and companions to return to the goddess. Knowing something about British
India, I ask him about the Thaggies or "Thugs," a sect of Kali
worshippers whose practice of ritual murder had been outlawed in the nineteenth
century. He says that ritual murder is still practiced, though not openly, and
that the Thugs have long been underground. Is this possible? It has the ring of
a ghost story. Nevertheless, I get chills just thinking of it.
But
clearly these people are also very religious, and parts of what they have can
be baptized, brought into Christianity. They are a pious and gracious people.
When Hindus come to our services, they have an unusual way of venerating icons
that is very beautiful, waving their hands over the lighted candle next to the
icon and then patting their heads and faces before pressing their cheeks on the
icon surface. Then they kiss and make prostrations. In our distribution of food
to the poor — and we ministered to thousands in one morning — some made
prostrations before us, touching our feet with both hands.
The
Hindus have three major gods — Brahma, Shiva and Vishnu — and in theory, at
least, they believe in a single deity. This one God or single Reality they call
Brahman. Although this belief is fundamentally different from Christian belief
in the Holy Trinity, it may help prepare Hindus to accept Trinitarian doctrine
when they come to the true revelation of God in Orthodox Christianity.
Many know
that the Hindus greet one another with joined hands, palms touching, and a bow.
This form of greeting is actually widespread throughout Asia, and is
interpreted in different ways by various traditions. In the context of Orthodox
Christianity, it may be accepted as a gesture of love, respect, and the
recognition of the image of God within each person. I love this gesture and am
pleased to say that it is has been assimilated into the indigenous Orthodox
Christian culture.
India is
such a strange world. It seemed to me another planet, or at least centuries
removed from our modern existence — though in many ways I had the sense that
this world is more "real" than ours. The people in Calcutta are in
touch with the realities of existence, suffering and death, while we often live
artificial lives, plugged into our computers and seeking escape in our
pleasures and our work.
I am
still overwhelmed, just beginning to make sense of my stay of nearly one month
in West Bengal. Fr. Stephen Callos of the Greek Archdiocese, Fr. Nathan Kroll
of the Orthodox Church in America, and I spent most of our time at St.
Nektarios Greek Orthodox Church and Compound near the village of Akina about
sixty miles from Calcutta. Our mission was to teach the native clergy,
catechists, and the newly baptized, some of whom came long distances to
participate in our seminars. This was far and away the most satisfying of all
my experiences in India. Our brothers and sisters in India are hungry for the
truth, and they respond with great love and gratitude. But communication is not
always easy. My translator, Fr. Andrew Mondale, was excellent, though even with
his help there were obstacles to overcome. Several instances come to mind.
During a class on the Eucharist some were having difficulty with the Christian
concept of sacrifice, until I alluded to an offering made to the god Shiva at a
shrine just outside the compound gates — a potato set before a clay idol. I
asked whether we should bring our potatoes, goats, fruits, and vegetables to
church and place them on the altar. They replied with a resounding,
"No!" "What then does God want?" Their response, almost in
unison, delighted me beyond words — "He wants our hearts!" After this
I was able to speak of the "sacrifice of praise" and the lifting up
of our hearts as essential elements of Eucharistic worship.
During a
class on creation I used the analogy of the sun’s heat when speaking of God’s
creative love, His energies, and there was a misunderstanding. One man asked,
"Is God the sun?" The people can be very simple and literal, but they
have no difficulty understanding that God is Love.
I have
said that the situation in India recalls St. Paul among the pagans. At no time
was this clearer than when a question was raised concerning eating foods
offered to the gods. This is a pressing matter among the Christians in India,
since all of them have Hindu relatives and friends, and often they are expected
to eat of these foods.-Of course, the problem is addressed in I Corinthians,
chapter 8, but before India I had never expected to find this passage of any
practical value, at least not in this quite literal sense.
After
morning classes Fr. Nathan and I took walks in the village. The natives live in
mud huts with grass roofs. I am convinced that we were some of the first whites
ever encountered there. The people gaped at us — we might as well have been
alien life forms — but all were excited to see our cameras. Often they would
draw near and hint for us to take their pictures, as if they would thereby
attain a kind of immortality. Rice paddies are all around, of course, as are
shrines to the gods. And palms trees. Cobras are common. Gregory, a
fifteen-year-old Christian boy, told me that a cobra had taken his father’s
life two years before. He lives in a two-room mud hut with his mother, but she
is the sole supporter and rarely home. He has to fend for himself, yet he is
full of joy and still innocent.
In the
countryside around Akina we saw a cremation site or ghat, with earthen jars,
sticks, and charred human bones. After a recent burning ceremony those paying
homage had placed sticks topped with rags onto the ghat. These are like little
flags, and their purpose is to indicate a favor owed the deceased, so as to
avoid the reprisals of an angry spirit. The pots contain body parts that didn’t
burn — mostly belly buttons, I am told. But the Hindus do not always practice cremation.
Cherubim explained to me that the bodies of little children and wandering
ascetics (called sannyasis) are sometimes buried, since it is believed that the
fire of God burns clean the souls of such as these.
Tim asked
me to come to the orphanage on a Sunday after Liturgy to see the children and
comfort those who had no visiting relatives. I did, and the orphans showered me
with affection. In the evening, after I told them some stories, they even put
on a show for me, with traditional dancing and singing. One fragile wisp of a
blind child got up to sing "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" in English,
and little Despeta — who is five or six and has a fatal brain tumor — spent the
whole time clinging to me. This little girl had been abandoned at the orphanage
gates. She is certainly well loved here, both by the teachers and the other
orphans. She is not expected to live beyond the age of eight, but in her
little, special way she has brought such joy to this place, and I am sure her
spirit will continue to give blessings even after she is gone. Many, both here
and in America, pray for her. The orphanage is a place where God’s light shines
distinctly, in the faces of children and in the work of the teachers.
On a tour
of the orphanage grounds, I was shown a large shop area where children are
instructed in various practical skills, such as sewing. There is a house for
the blind, and at present five blind children are in residence. The blind
children sit together at mealtime with their teacher, a Christian woman of
sixty-two years whose face fairly beams with the love of God.
It is
important to see that the ministry at the orphanage is one of great, divine
love — a love distributed to all, regardless of creed. Many of the orphans are
not Christian. I met Rupa, a Hindu girl of about fifteen, who is very good and
has a big heart. She worries about her friends and her little sister and wants
them to do well in school. I spoke with her privately, praised her and offered
some encouragement. She responded warmly, happily, and I noticed that she
danced for me with a special joy.
But there
are many Rupas. The point I want to make is that the area where children are
instructed in various practical skills, such as sewing. There is a house for
the blind, and at present five blind children are in residence. The blind
children sit together at mealtime with their teacher, a Christian woman of
sixty-two years whose face fairly beams with the love of God.
It is
important to see that the ministry at the orphanage is one of great, divine
love — a love distributed to all, regardless of creed. Many of the orphans are
not Christian. I met Rupa, a Hindu girl of about fifteen, who is very good and
has a big heart. She worries about her friends and her little sister and wants
them to do well in school. I spoke with her privately, praised her and offered
some encouragement. She responded warmly, happily, and I noticed that she
danced for me with a special joy.
But there
are many Rupas. The point I want to make is that the good people oflndia are
ripe for Christ. As I have tried to say, they are religious by nature. They
hunger and thirst for Christ, and some pray with us without understanding Who
He is. It is our mission as Orthodox Christians to reveal Christ in our
actions, to show these dear people the meaning of God’s love. And I can assure
you that this is exactly what is being done in Calcutta, in Akina, and at the
orphanage.
Every
Monday at the church in Calcutta rice, beans, salt, sugar, and soap are
distributed to the poor. Fr. Stephen arranged it so that Fr. Nathan and I had a
chance to participate, not together but separately, since at least two priests
were needed in Akina to conduct classes. Preparing for the distribution is
heavy work in the heat. Many bags need to be weighed and put into stacks.
During the preparation, long lines formed around the church — armies of the
poor and the maimed, numbering in the thousands. I saw an old midget in rags
leading his tall, blind friend. Both were crippled. I saw several people
without hands or legs. Many had large tumors and growths. All were grateful to
receive from us. To see the love and gratitude on their faces as I gave them
food and soap, to have them prostrate themselves before me and touch my feet,
was deeply humbling. I am writing this with some trepidation. I am not worthy,
but the story needs to be told.
On my
last day in Akina, Sarbojit Dalle, an English-speaking boy who will be baptized
soon, came to me with a group, saying that the people think we have been
"very good, very clear, very good teachers." "You understand
us," he says, and they ask if I am a teacher at home. When I say that I
used to teach English, they give wide smiles and many nods. Sarbojit explains
that they all want Fr. Stephen, Fr. Nathan and me to return. He asks that we
pray for them, and we ask that they pray for us.
Then we
three priests give speeches. I tell the people that they will be in my heart
always, that we will be joined in Christ by our prayers and thoughts and in the
Sacraments. Fr. Nathan speaks briefly and sincerely — as he says, "with
words locked in my heart." And Fr. Stephen finishes with loving
sentiments. As usual, Fr. Andrew Mondal translates, since few of the people
speak English. Then George, one of the catechists, comes forward as a
representative of the people with something to say. He thanks Fr. Stephen for being
so faithful over the years to the mission, and Fr. Nathan for his dedicated
service. I do not know what I said or when I said it, but he thanks me for
having helped him resolve some trouble he had. Indeed, God works in strange
ways.
Over the
weeks we all heard many inspiring stories demonstrating the strong faith of our
Orthodox brothers and sisters in India. Fr. Stephen told us about a man whose
employer threatened to fire him should he be baptized. He ignored the threat,
and nothing happened. Eventually, the employer began expressing an interest in
Christianity and even came to one of the seminars sponsored by OCMC. It takes
real courage to become a Christian in India — and it takes courage to remain
Christian. Converts are often rejected by family and friends, but they know
that to be rejected for love of Christ is cause for rejoicing. One man told me
that, when he converted and his home became a center of Christian worship, the
villagers threatened him and his family with bodily harm. He remained firm,
however, and now years later many in his village are Orthodox. Unfortunately,
this does not always happen. And even when it does, acceptance and peace come
gradually and often with pain. One of the catechists said that his parents
still will not talk to him years after his baptism. He prays for a change of
heart in his parents, and he longs for it. But the point is that there is a
price to pay in India for converting to Christianity, and we all should be
aware of this. The witness of such people is inspiring. It demonstrates the
power of our Faith, as well as God’s loving-kindness and care for His children.
So I am
pleased to report that the Church in West Bengal, India is alive and well.
Needless to say, I’m also pleased to have survived to tell about it.
Notwithstanding the terrible jet lag and culture shock, both coming and going;
in spite of the swarming gnats, mosquitoes and other pests; regardless of
intestinal problems and the sweltering heat and humidity — even in
consideration of that Great Calcutta Stink — it was a deeply rewarding
experience, one I’ll cherish until my dying day. Now just weeks after my return
I long to go back, if it is God’s will. But there remains so much to
assimilate, so much more to understand and talk about before I can think of
returning. I am not finished with India. My writing and thinking about it has
become a daily obsession. But I offer here some of my thoughts, hoping that
something will capture your interest and move you to pray for our brothers and
sisters there and be generous with your time and money. Missionaries are
needed, but if you cannot go, please remember these people in your prayers and
in your offerings.
I am sure
Frs. Stephen and Nathan join me in thanking the many good and generous people
who have supported our trip to India with their prayers and offerings. And we
pray that God will continue to bless His Church, and that He will open our
hearts to the wonderful possibilities for Orthodox Christian missionary work in
India and throughout the world. Amen!
***
Fr. Paul Martin is attached to the Sts. Peter
and Paul Ukrainian Orthodox Church in Palos Park, Illinois, and is serving as
priest at the Annunciation-Agia Paraskevi Greek Orthodox Church in New Buffalo,
Michigan.
An article from"The Orthodox Word"
magazine 2006,
№ 5
10/30/2007
CONVERSATION