CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER IV
THE TRANSFORMATION OF VILLAGES!
CuRISTIANITY is a social religion. It not only aims at bringing individual souls under the regenerating influence of Jesus Christ, but it also unites the disciples of Christ in a society and makes that society the instrument for carrying out God's purpose in the world.
The testimony of the individual is effective, but the testimony of the society is even more powerful.
What then is the effect of the Gospel on the Christian community?
The following incident will serve to illustrate this in a village where the people became Christians after much hesitation.
They were not at first particularly strong in the faith. They are typical of a large number of Christian communities in the Telugu country.
We were camping in the Traveller's Bungalow.
I finished the Confirmation one evening, and had a service of Holy Communion in the morning with the workers and those of the newly confirmed who stayed over night for it.
It was soon found that nobody in the village itself was a Christian.
I was told that the antagonistic attitude of the Dorai— the landlord who belonged to a leading Zamindari
1 This chapter is by the Bishop of Dornakal.
THE TRANSFORMATION OF VILLAGES
family of the district—made any movement impossible. My wife and I wanted to visit the Dorai's house and so started out when the sun was fairly down, and on the way visited the outcaste village.
After seeing the Dorai we returned to the Bungalow, and were at dinner, when I noticed a crowd outside.
I went out and found about twenty men, mostly young, and asked them who they were.
" We belong to Kondur," came the reply. " Did you not, with "Amma Garu '! come to our village this evening? "
" Oh, yes," I said, " What do you want? "
"We have come to tell you that we want to join the religion."
"What!" I said.
"You did not seem to be very keen in the afternoon; what is it that has produced this change of mind now?"
"After you and the Amma Garu left us, we began to consult together; and later, when all the elders came home from the fields we summoned a meeting of the whole village, and we decided that we must become Christians now. We want to do it at once because the Bishop has come to our village."
"That sounds very nice; but why do you want to become Christians? "
"For some years we have wanted to become Christians; and we enrolled ourselves once before; but as soon as our landlord heard of it he placed difficulties in our way and we could not stand the persecutions.
But now, we see that all the villages 1 Lady Mother.
CHRIST IN THE INDIAN VILLAGES
round about us have joined the religion and they are all going ahead in every way and we alone are left behind.
Soon we shall be unable even to get brides and bridegrooms for our children unless we become Christians."
" But the Dorai will again persecute you," I said.
"Let him; we shall all leave the village and go elsewhere: but we want the religion, we are not going to give it up this time even if our throats — are cut."
The Pastor and Mr Adam, the Indian Rural Dean, one of our most trusted Indian leaders, were in another part of the Bungalow and I sent for the latter.
He came and I repeated the whole conversation to him. He was very pessimistic.
— " You talk like this now," said he to the deputation, " but when the Dorai finds this out, he will beat you, threaten to drive you out of the village and then you will yield to his threats.
I can't believe your words."
"No, no, sir," they said.
'"' We are not going to do that.
Let him beat us, let him drive us out of the village, let him cut our throats. We are not going back this time."
Mr Adam: "If this is true, will you have your tufts removed now?! Then I will believe you are sincere."
1 Removing the tuft is in certain parts of the Telugu country considered a distinctive outward badge of having left the Hindu Society and joined the Christian Society.
In old days the tuft of hair on the top of the head was identified with adherence to the Hindu faith. jo
THE TRANSFORMATION OF VILLAGES
The elders demurred.
They were of course - taken aback at this unforeseen challenge. The hour was late; it would be inconvenient to go and have a bath or to wash their hair after the operation.
My wife, noticing the struggle, pleaded that this ceremony might be left over till the morning.
"No, no," said the young men.
"It must be done now.
If we are allowed to go away now, ~ we might find it difficult to make the decision later!"
So they all agreed, sat down, untied the knots and let down their long hair, ready for the scissors.
My nail scissors were the only pair we had. Mr Adam took charge of them: the bungalow peon, who was a Roman Catholic caste man, held. up the lantern, and then and there about twenty of them had their tufts removed and thus broke with the past.
"When the landlord sees you in the morning and notices the tufts gone, then will come trouble,"
Mr Adam said.
"Come what may," was the chorus of reply.
They had broken with the past: they were ready for anything.
We knelt on that verandah and committed the village to the grace of God.
Next evening at nine o'clock was to be the first service, when the names were to be enrolled.
We all went.
The men whose tufts had not been removed the previous night had "to be done" now.
'Then all the names were taken down— one hundred and fifty-one in all.
The elder said: " Iyah (sir), we have a request to make."
CHRIST IN THE INDIAN VILLAGES
"Yes, go on!"
" Do you know Teacher Sanjeevi of- ? That is the teacher we want.
He teaches well.
The people improve quickly under him. The children love him. We have seen it. Will you not please give us that teacher? "
"But you must find a house for him, you must put up a school building; not until then can the teacher come! " was Mr Adam's reply.
"We shall have the house ready to-morrow!
We have a thatched shed now in the centre of the village used for common village meetings,
That can be used as chapel and school.
Can the teacher come to-morrow?"
So we decided to effect the change.
Money?
We did not know whether there was money or not.
But people with such keenness could not be left unprovided for. So Mr Adam said he would send the teacher at once and take the chances.
Then we had prayers.
I spoke to them about prayer—that God was our Father and as children tell their fathers all their needs, they must learn to tell the Heavenly Father all they needed—that they could pray always and everywhere—in the fields, in the houses, the last thing at night and first thing in the morning and so forth. And we knelt to pray.
They had taken the first step. They had so far given the Spirit of God room to begin His regenerating work in their souls. The seed had been sown.
It was sure to do its work. We left them on the following day. That was in October 1924.
They were baptized a year later in September 1925.
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The first sixty-five of the adults were confirmed in February 1927. The first communion was held on the following morning in a mud chapel that the people had built for themselves.
It was not quite finished.
The roof was on.
The walls were only half up. Two windows were in position. We had the celebration there in this place made sacred by loving devotion.
I could hardly recognize the faces of the people: they had all so altered!
Their cleanliness, order, their devotion and their loving adoration—who could tell they were the same people that met me on that October night in 1924?
As I described the meaning of the Sacrament they were now to receive their faces shone. They had realized what the Cross of Christ had meant to them. They had seen its transforming power. The teaching during these two years had centred round the Cross.
God so loved us and gave Himself for us!
It was a wonderful service.
God was near.
The Spirit was moving us. As the women came and put out their hands to receive the Sacrament, their eyes were wet with tears!
Late in the evening a messenger came saying that the Dorai was coming to visit us.
We got some chairs in position and were ready to receive him. He gave us limes, salaamed us both, placed a big dish of fruit in front of us—said it was for amma garu, and excused himself that he had not better fruit.
I began: "How are your How is the family?
Since we were here last time, these villagers have become Christians; what do you think of their new religion? " er eam,
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"Tyah (sir), came the ready reply, "that is what brought me here now.
I wanted to come to thank you for this religion.
I never realized that Christianity was such a religion.
You have seen the people now. How they have changed! They are clean, all their foul speech has gone!
Their singing, their worship, their devotion is a marvel to us! They are honest, they give us better work.
We are all pleased about this religion. The teacher —ah!
He is a good man!
Though he comes from the outcastes, he can come into my house now. He is our family physician. I want to write to all the Zamindars and dorais that no one should hinder this religion entering any of their villages.
If it were possible we should all become Christians."
And this was the man of whom they were afraid ; as aman who might even cut their throats!
The impression thus made upon the caste people by the transformation of outcaste communities in their own villages is the strongest possible evidence of the spiritual power of the gospel of Christ. And it is very widespread.
In a village in a remote part of the Hyderabad State about twenty years ago a few outcastes were baptized, the first Christians in the village. They were miserably poor, very dirty and depressed.
Later on the whole of the outcastes in the village were converted to Christianity.
And in about twelve years there was a miraculous transformation of the whole village. Through the influence of the outcaste Christians and their teacher, the caste people of the village had given up idolatry. The
THE TRANSFORMATION OF VILLAGES
sacrifices to the village gods and goddesses at times of sowing and harvest, that they and their forefathers had offered for thousands of years, were abolished.
'' We offer our prayers and make our vows to your God only," they said to the Indian pastor. Many of them had given up drunkenness and foul language.
"' We are ashamed of these things now," they said, " when we see the outcastes living sober and respectable lives."
'To anyone who knows the strength of caste and the rigid conservatism of the Indian villages this was indeed a miracle.
I was about to hold a Confirmation at the village of B After robing, I came out to the temporary palm leaf pavilion erected for the purpose.
There were about a hundred people, young and old, arranged on the ground and singing lyrics.
There were also seated on benches inside some Hindu caste gentlemen who had come to see the function.
I did not like these men to be mere spectators inside the pavilion, and so very courteously I asked them to withdraw until we finished our prayers.
They got up at once—but waited a whole hour outside looking on.
We met again after the service was over.
"' What did you think of our service?" I asked.
" Oh, sir, that is what we want to tell you. We know these people very well: they are our own servants.
Their fathers and forefathers worked for our fathers and forefathers. They are not superior to us in caste, they are not superior to us in wealth, they are not superior to us in education, they are not superior
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to us in looks: and yet, when we sat and looked at them before you came in, we could not fail to notice the bright rays of the glory of God playing on their faces; we have not got that! "
At K——,, the village magistrate (who was a casteman) was observing my examination of the candidates for confirmation, and when the candidates left I asked him to tell me what he really thought of our Christian converts. His reply was this: "I must tell you the truth, I cannot deny that there is a real change among these people since Christianity was introduced among them.
Formerly they drank heavily, every decent man shunned their village after sunset—the quarrels and the foul language used were too loathsome for words.
Cattle poisoning by these people was common.
Now all that has changed.
Cattlepoisoning is now unknown in Christian villages.
Instead of drunken revels and quarrels, the music of lyrics and songs from the village chapel fill the air in the evenings.
In short, these people are learning, nay have learnt, to live soberly, righteously and godly in the villages."
AtN , two caste Reddies, the leaders of one of the villages where we have a congregation, came to see me.
They had walked five miles for this purpose.
The outcaste people had been Christians for seven years; but they had lived very indifferent lives.
During the two years previous to my visit, however, there had been a change in the teacher and in the pastor, and a new life had been introduced into the congregation.
This the
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Reddy had observed.
He said:
'" Only now we have come to see what Christianity is.
This religion has been in our village for seven years; but it produced no impression on us.
Since the coming of this new teacher everything has changed.
These people have now learnt good manners, they know now how to behave towards us, how to work for us, and even how to talk to us; theft has stopped, we now respect the Christian people, even though they are outcastes: and we respect their religion too."
The importance of having as teachers devout men, trained and equipped for rural work was never more forcibly brought home to me than when this Hindu Reddy gave this testimony. Rural evangelism demands first-class men.
Our largest congregation of Madiga converts is at M There are over 800 people in this one place who are members of our church.
In its - neighbourhood is a large village of well-to-do caste people. The Christians earn their livelihood by working for the caste landowners.
Some work on monthly wages: the others get daily wages for tasks connected with rice cultivation.
Years ago, when I held my first Confirmation in this village, some of the leading caste men came to witness our service.
On questioning them as to what they thought of our worship, they said it was very elevating and they liked the moral teaching we gave the people. I asked them what they thought of our Christians.
The reply came from one of the thoughtful men.
"We can say," he said,
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" that these Madigas have learnt real bhakti (devotion) since they became Christians."
It was a delightful testimony, but I wondered at the time how far it came from real conviction.
But quite recently the Christian houses were all destroyed by fire in one night and the condition of the people was most piteous. The houses were all small thatched houses and burnt themselves out in no time. Very little of the meagre belongings of the unfortunate Christians was saved. Without clothes or food they were in a most hopeless position. As soon as the extent of the loss was known, the Hindu gentlemen came most generously with offers of help. One leading man spent about {200 in giving temporary relief in clothes and grain to the Christian sufferers..
During these many years respect and regard for these outcaste Christians had grown, until it found expression in such a splendid act of spontaneous generosity.
Non-Christians have not only given an unqualified testimony to the change that has been wrought in outcaste communities by the power of the Gospel of Christ, but in many cases they have themselves entered into a larger life and faith through the example of their Christian servants.