11. To the South
Chapter 11
To the South
Christian men, both Indian and European, had often asked Sundar if they could accompany him on his missionary journeys into Tibet, but he normally turned them down. However, in April 1917, he set out from Dehra Dun for Tibet with four traveling companions, two Europeans and two Indians. The men planned to reach a barren area of Tibet known as Kailash. Their first stop, ten miles north of Dehra Dun, was Mussoorie. It was a steady climb there, but it was a lovely spring morning, and Sundar enjoyed the walk. However, when they arrived at Mussoorie, two of the men declared that they were exhausted and too unfit to go on. This surprised Sundar, as he felt as though he had been on short stroll.
The three remaining men, Alexander Judson, a schoolteacher, Mohan Lal, a leprosy-hospital chaplain and Indian Quaker, and Sundar, left the other two men and continued on with their trip the following morning. The terrain became more rugged as they climbed farther into the Himalayas. The temperature dropped twenty degrees as a severe storm blew in, dumping ice-cold rain down on them. Soon all three men were soaked to the skin. As they climbed higher, the rain turned to sleet, and then to snow. Despite the fact that Alexander and Mohan wore heavy, padded jackets and leather climbing boots, the two of them shivered with cold. They complained that their feet were numb, while Sundar’s bare feet felt perfectly fine. Even when he caught his toe on a rock and it started to bleed, Sundar hardly felt it, because over the years his feet had become so hardened to walking.
Eventually Alexander and Mohan announced that they could not go any farther and begged Sundar to guide them back to Mussoorie. Sundar agreed; he could see that the men were in no condition to continue. When they arrived back in Mussoorie, Sundar offered to lead them into Tibet by a different, less arduous route, but the two men were much too exhausted to contemplate continuing.
The following day Sundar set off again for Tibet, this time alone. Soon another traveler, a Tibetan man, joined him, and the two of them walked on in companionable silence as they summitted the sixteen-thousand-foot-high pass, with its thin, icy air, and began their descent from the heights of the Himalayas.
Suddenly, halfway down, the weather turned bitterly cold. Sundar pulled his cotton blanket tight around him and picked up his pace, praying that he and his companion would not freeze to death along the trail.
As the two men edged their way forward in single file along a narrow, slippery ledge, Sundar looked down, carefully gauging each step. Far below, sprawled in the snow at the bottom of the ravine, was the body of a man! As Sundar peered at the body, he saw an arm move—the man was alive!
Sundar tugged at the fur jacket of his traveling companion. “Look down,” he yelled into the howling wind. “A man has fallen down there. We must try to rescue him.”
Sundar’s traveling companion refused to help, protesting that they themselves would die if they delayed getting to the small village at the bottom of the trail. Sundar knew the Tibetan was right. On previous trips across these mountains, he himself had come upon the bodies of men frozen to death by a sudden change in the weather. But as his traveling companion continued picking his way along the ledge toward the village, Sundar stayed behind. He prayed out loud and then carefully began edging his way down the side of the ravine, aware that he was one careless move away from sharing the same fate as the man he was trying to save.
Finally Sundar reached the man and carefully lifted him onto his back. Then he draped his blanket around them both and tied the man to him like a baby to its mother’s back. Through blinding snow and fading daylight and on bleeding feet, Sundar carried the man slowly but surely along the trail.
Then, as quickly as the snow had blown in, it stopped and the visibility cleared. It was then that Sundar could see the stone houses of the village a few hundred yards ahead. Relief overcame him. They were going to make it to safety! But his joy immediately turned to shock when he spotted the rigid body of his traveling companion who had gone on alone lying dead by the side of the trail, practically within shouting distance of the village.
Sundar said a quick prayer over the man and then staggered on the last quarter mile to the village. Soon both he and the man he had rescued were warming themselves in front of a smoky fire. As Sundar thought about the day’s events, he realized that the exertion of carrying the man on his back and the contact of their two bodies had produced enough heat to keep both men warm—and alive. Sundar knew that if he had not stopped to rescue the fallen man, he, too, would most likely have frozen to death at the side of the trail with his Tibetan traveling companion.
The rescue marked the start of another long summer of witnessing from village to village in Tibet. News of the rescue quickly spread, and in its wake the hearts of many were opened to listen to what Sundar had to say, though others remained as hostile as ever. As Sundar approached one village, he decided to sit on a log and sing some hymns. He was halfway through his third hymn when people from the village began to appear from their houses and fields. One man, who was short but very strong, yelled abuse at Sundar. When Sundar did not respond, the man walked over and pushed him to the ground. Sundar put his hands out to soften his fall, but the jagged rocks cut one of his hands and his face.
Praying softly, Sundar unwrapped his turban and wound it around his cut hand. Then, with blood still running down his face, he sat on the log again and continued singing. When he was finished, he prayed aloud, asking God to bless everyone in the village and give them abundant crops. He then walked on, hoping to find a better reception at the next village.
As fall approached, there were no new converts, but still Sundar felt his time had been well spent. He once again made his way back across the mountain pass into India.
When Sundar got back to Simla, a huge pile of mail awaited him. In the pile was a copy of a Christian newsletter called Nur Afshan. The goal of the newsletter was to encourage Christians in northern India to live their faith openly. As Sundar skimmed through the publication, a letter to the editor caught his attention:
I am an employee of the Forest Department. In May, I was walking down a mountain road when I saw a sadhu with a blanket on his shoulder and a few books in his hand. I determined to follow him. The sadhu strode along till he reached a village. There he sat on a log and began to sing. When the village people realized that he was a Christian, they became hostile, and one of them knocked the holy man down, cutting his hand and cheek. The sadhu bound up his hand with his turban and continued to sing songs of praise to his God. When he left, he showed no signs of hatred. Instead he asked God’s blessing on them all.
I stayed in that village and report to you that so great was the impression the sadhu made, the man who pushed him to the ground has already become a Christian and been baptized, and I am writing to you asking that your readers will pray for me, that I, too, might have the courage to openly confess faith in the Lord Christ.
Signed,
E. Das.
As Sundar read, he remembered the incident well and thanked God that his suffering had caused those around him to think about their own faith. For him two new Christians as a result of his efforts in Tibet made the hardships of the trip seem worthwhile.
Another letter in the pile of mail greatly surprised Sundar. It was from his father. It had been years since Sundar had heard from him. Sundar carefully read the letter, which opened with a general greeting, followed by a plea for Sundar to reconsider his future and come back to Rampur. Sher Singh wrote that he had a bride picked out for Sundar and spare rooms in the family compound for him to move into and start a family. With sadness Sundar put down the letter. He thought about how old his father must be now and wondered whether his father would ever understand the life that his youngest son had chosen to lead.
Other letters were also in the pile. Many of them were from people in western and southern India who asked Sundar to visit their churches and speak to their religious groups. As Sundar studied the return addresses, he was astonished at how far his fame had spread. One letter was from an Indian Christian he had met once before. This man said he had taken the liberty of writing about Sundar’s life and teaching and had printed it in a booklet. He reported that the booklet was selling very well. Now Sundar understood why he was getting letters from all over India. People were reading the booklet and wanting to see Sundar in person.
The thought of traveling outside of northern India did not appeal to Sundar. He felt that his main purpose in life was to stir up Christians in northern India to make missionary forays into Tibet and Nepal. Anything else seemed like a needless distraction.
In December, though, Sundar reconsidered his resolve to stay in the north. He had traveled to the town of Baroda near the Gulf of Cambay and planned to return to Sabathu on the 5:00 am train the following morning. He retired at nine o’clock and spent two hours in prayer, as he often did. While he was praying, Sundar felt that God was telling him that since he had already traveled this far south, it was time for him to go even farther south. The next morning Sundar did not head back north as planned, and at nine o’clock a telegram was delivered to the house. It read, “Please come to South India.” It was the confirmation he had been looking for, and he bought a ticket on a train heading south.
Sundar had no formal plans. He trusted instead that God would guide him. As always, he carried nothing with him but his blanket, a New Testament, and a couple of books he was reading.
India is a huge, diverse country, stretching two thousand miles from north to south, and Sundar decided to travel down the west coast to the city of Ratnagiri. As Sundar made his way to the station to catch a train to Ratnagiri, he noticed on the ground a page torn from the Gospel of John. He bent down and picked up the page so that it would not be disrespected more by being trampled on. He folded the page in half and slipped it into his pocket.
Two hours later Sundar was sitting on the train, wending his way south. When the train stopped at a small station, a short man wearing a dirty robe climbed aboard and found a seat in the carriage not far from Sundar. As the train rumbled south again, Sundar was aware that the man had brought a strange, almost evil atmosphere into the carriage. He soon learned why this was. The man declared himself to be a sorcerer and began reciting chants and incantations. Before long he had put the man seated opposite him into a trance. It was then that Sundar decided he must act.
“You may be a sorcerer,” Sundar said, “but I know One who is more powerful than anything you have experienced.”
“Who is that?” the sorcerer snapped.
“Jesus Christ, of whom I am a follower.”
Sundar noticed a grim look spread across the man’s face. Then, with a flourish, the sorcerer leapt to his feet and moved to sit across from Sundar.
“Very well,” the sorcerer said, raising his voice to be heard by as many people as possible in the carriage. “If you are His follower, then we shall see whose power is greater. I shall use my powers to subdue you and put you in a trance.”
“You can try if you like, but it will do you no good,” Sundar replied matter-of-factly, and then he said a quiet prayer under his breath.
For the next half hour the sorcerer focused all his attention on Sundar, chanting incantations and prayers as he tried desperately to put him into a trance. But Sundar remained wide awake and aware that everyone’s eyes in the carriage were now focused on him and the sorcerer.
Finally the sorcerer looked up. “You have a book in your pocket that is preventing my spell from working,” he declared.
Sundar reached into his pocket, pulled out his New Testament, and laid it on the seat beside him.
The sorcerer then went back to his incantations. But after a few minutes he stopped and said, “There is still a page of the holy book in your pocket that is blocking me.”
Once again Sundar reached into his pocket, where he discovered the folded page from the Gospel of John he had picked up from the ground. He took it out and laid it on top of the New Testament.
Again the sorcerer went back to the task of putting Sundar into a trance. Once again he could not. This time he declared that Sundar’s robe was impeding his progress, and Sundar took it off. Sundar sat clad only in a loincloth and turban as the sorcerer chanted more incantations. And once again the sorcerer failed.
“I see there is some mysterious power pervading you,” the sorcerer finally confessed.
“You have spoken correctly,” Sundar said. “It is the power of Jesus Christ, against which your evil is powerless.”
Sundar went on to explain to the sorcerer the gospel and the power of Jesus Christ to change a person’s life. The sorcerer, knowing he had encountered a stronger spiritual power, listened attentively to Sundar. The rest of the people in the carriage were quiet.
Finally Sundar arrived in Ratnagiri, where people were excited to see him. He soon found himself busy preaching to the crowds of people who flocked to hear him. At first Sundar was surprised by all the attention his presence in Ratnagiri had generated. He knew that news of him and his ministry had spread beyond northern India, but he had no idea that this many people were interested in what he did and had to say. Still he made the most of the opportunity to challenge the Christians who came to hear him with the need to go and preach the gospel to others. Many who came to hear him speak were not Christians, and a number of them were converted.
While in Ratnagiri, Sundar was invited to attend three choral performances by the girls at a Christian boarding school. The first evening, as Sundar sat outdoors listening to the girls sing hymns, he wrapped a thin scarf around his neck to keep warm. The following night, when he arrived for the performance, the girls presented Sundar with a thick, woolen shawl. Sundar was grateful for their thoughtfulness and generosity, and, with the shawl wrapped tightly about him, he sat listening to them sing.
Sundar used the shawl again the following night. When the girls’ performance was finished, he began walking through the streets of Ratnagiri to the house where he was staying. Along the way he encountered a beggar shivering and trying to keep warm beside a meager fire. Without a second thought, Sundar slipped the shawl from his shoulders, placed it around the beggar man, and walked on.
The following day a special meeting was arranged for all of the lawyers in Ratnagiri to come to a local hall to hear Sundar speak. That night three hundred lawyers and their wives and children gathered. Sundar told them about his life and how things had changed so dramatically for him after he became a Christian. He then challenged his audience to follow his example.
At the end of the meeting, three of the lawyers prostrated themselves on the dusty floor in front of Sundar as a mark of respect.
“Do not do this,” Sundar said, reaching to help the men back onto their feet. But as Sundar left the hall, the women and children crowded around him. Many of the mothers reached out and took his scarf and touched it to the heads of their children, while other women reverently touched his robe.
This troubled a missionary attending the meeting. When the crowd finally dispersed he asked Sundar, “Why do you allow the people to pay their respects to you in such ways?”
“I do not want their honor. They do what they do out of love for me,” Sundar responded.
“Yes, but such honor belongs to Jesus Christ, not you,” the missionary said.
Sundar looked at the missionary for a moment and then explained, “Well, Sahib, I shall tell you why I get it and why I accept it. My beloved Jesus went to Jerusalem riding on a colt. The people took off their clothes and spread them on the road. It was the colt who walked on the clothes, not Jesus. The colt was honored because he carried Jesus. I am like that colt. People honor me not for my sake but because I preach Christ.”
The missionary nodded, looking satisfied with the answer, and left the hall.
Following a successful time in Ratnagiri, Sundar headed farther south. The first thing he noticed was how hot it was getting. Sundar was used to the much cooler temperatures of the Punjab plain and the Himalayas, where even if it did get hot, it was a dry heat and he could find respite under a shady tree. But in southern India it was hot and humid, and there was nowhere one could escape the oppressive clamminess. Indeed, Sundar explained in a letter to a friend in the north that he felt as though he were a dissolving lump of salt. He found that as a result of the heat, he had to rest more than he was used to. Still, he kept himself busy preaching the gospel to everyone he came into contact with.
In southern India Sundar encountered Christians from the Syrian Church. This church traced its history back to the first century, when, tradition said, Thomas, one of Jesus’ original disciples, came to southern India, where he preached the gospel and eventually founded a church. Sundar was intrigued by the church’s long history, but he was also disappointed at the way the church had lost sight of the message of the gospel. So at a meeting of young people from the church he challenged them:
O young men, awake and see how many souls are daily perishing around you. Is it not your duty to save them? Be brave soldiers of Christ. Go forward in full armor. Crush Satan’s work, and victory shall be yours.… [Christ] has given you a precious opportunity to be saved and to save others. If you are careless now, you will never get another chance, for you will never pass through the field of battle again. The day is fast approaching when you will see the martyrs in their glory, who gave their health, wealth, and life to win souls for Christ. They have done much. Oh, may we not blush in that day.
Sundar wondered how these young people would receive his message. He had his answer at the next meeting, where twenty thousand people turned out to hear him preach. And at a third meeting thirty-two thousand Syrian Christians came to hear him speak.
Finally Sundar made his way to Madras on the southeast coast of India, arriving there on New Year’s Day 1918. Although he did not know anyone in the city, he was soon involved in a whirlwind of preaching and meetings. Many of these meetings were held in traditional churches, but wherever Sundar went, he seemed to attract a crowd. As a result he found himself also preaching under palmyra trees, in village squares outside Hindu temples, and on dry riverbeds. At these venues anywhere from five hundred to ten thousand people would gather to hear him speak.
People seemed particularly struck with the simple illustrations Sundar drew from nature to illustrate his points. In one sermon Sundar told his audience that they could not deal with sin simply by cleaning up the outer practices in their lives. He illustrated the point by saying, “In every home there are spiders. Many of us, trying to get rid of sin, are like housewives who destroy the spiders’ webs without destroying the spiders.”
At another meeting someone in the audience asked him, “How can my poor prayers help anyone when I am so sinful?” Sundar replied, “The sun draws salt water from the sea, yet when it falls again to the earth, the water is clear and pure and drinkable. The sun has cleaned it. So it is with God and our prayers.”
After each of the meetings, a throng of seekers followed Sundar, asking questions and begging to hear more about Jesus Christ. Sundar did his best to speak with them all. And it was not uncommon for him to be awakened in the middle of the night by some prominent Hindu man who wanted to talk about Christianity but was afraid to be seen speaking publicly to a Christian sadhu. Sundar welcomed such men into his room and answered whatever questions they posed.
It was not only seekers wanting to know more about Christianity that kept Sundar awake other nights. Sundar often spent the night in prayer, gathering spiritual strength for the following day.
Sundar’s simple and straightforward style of preaching and living not only drew crowds to hear him speak but also attracted the attention of the news media. While Sundar was in Madras, a reporter from the local newspaper attended one of his meetings. The following morning Sundar’s host read to him from the newspaper what the reporter had said of the meeting. According to the reporter, Sundar was
a tall young man delivering his message with the fire of a prophet and the power of an apostle. The audience hung on his lips, and never for a moment allowed their eyes to stray from the central figure. The Sadhu was unlike all mental pictures formed of him—he was incomparably superior to all I had thought of him. As I heard the sweet words issue from the lips of the Sadhu, who stood before me a visible symbol of the spiritual culture of the East, set aglow in the resplendent light of the Gospel—a vessel of eastern art and beauty chosen by the Lord, and filled with His Spirit—my skepticism vanished like clouds before the rising sun, and the dreams of my life seemed to touch the borders of the real. The problem of Christianity in India is solved, and the Sadhu has solved it.
Sundar felt himself blush as the newspaper article was read to him. He certainly did not see himself in those terms. He was simply a young man obeying the call he felt God had placed on his heart. And he told his host, “I seek to draw no man to me, only to reveal to them a glimpse of the Lord I serve. Jesus told His disciples, if they would lift Him up from the earth, He would draw all men unto Him. Praise God that is true.”
As his stay in Madras drew to a close, Sundar expected to return to northern India, where it was time to prepare for crossing into Tibet for another summer among the Tibetan people. But those plans had to wait. Still more people in southern India and beyond wanted a chance to see and hear Sadhu Sundar Singh.