HINDUS AND RELIGION
Irreverence in Hindu temples. Robbing the god. Burial of
gods. Justice in native states. Giving the title of "god" to
people. The god's relations. Hindu conception of god; of
prayer. Nominal Hindus. The old army pensioner. The "thread"
ceremony.
Whatever the Hindu conception of a god may be, their behaviour in
their temples shows that it is something entirely different to the
ideas which a Christian associates with the name of God. The greatest
irreverence, from our point of view of what irreverence means, is
continually going on in a Hindu temple in the presence of the idol, to
which homage is done as to a god, and which is the object of a good
deal of ceremonial attention from the person whose business it is to
pay it. Talking loudly, and laughing and joking, children romping
about; all this is evidently not felt to be out of place in the
temple, because it goes on habitually, and apparently unrebuked.
Card-playing is constantly carried on in those larger temples in which
there is a space in front of the idol, and evidently nobody objects.
Indians are great card-players, and they play with a persistency and
absorbed interest such as the most inveterate bridge-player could
scarcely emulate. They often play for the greater part of the day and
half the night, and generally for stakes of some sort, however small.
Nor does even robbing the god involve the idea that the god has power
to take revenge, because some of the village boys have told me, as a
huge joke, of their exploits in robbing their idol of the offerings
made to it. People bring small gifts of money, or fruit, or
sweetmeats, and deposit them near the idol. These are the recognised
perquisites of the custodian of the temple. But in the case of a
village temple this official is often also engaged in secular
business, so that the boys watch their opportunity and, in his
absence, appropriate the offering before he returns.
Apparently burial in a river is a seemly way of disposing of a god. A
man was anxious to sell us a plot of land in a certain village, but
there was on it a very primitive temple, fenced in with a few sticks
and stones. Within this enclosure were several shapeless stone gods,
painted with vermilion. We said that if we bought the site the temple
would have to be removed first. The man replied that there would be no
difficulty about that, because the gods could be buried in the river.
The god is then supposed to leave the stone and pass out into the
sacred stream. The mud figures of the god _Gunpatti_, which people
annually enshrine in their houses for ten days, are then taken in
procession to the river and placed in the water, where, of course,
they quickly dissolve.
That even the word _God_ has for Hindus an entirely different
significance to that which it has for us, indicates how hopelessly
misleading our theological expressions may be in the mouths of
English-speaking Hindus. A small party of Hindus called at the Mission
bungalow to make a request on behalf of a friend who lived in one of
the native states. They affirmed that it was an impossibility to get
justice in a law-court in one of these states, except through the
intervention of the British Resident. They therefore asked me for a
letter of introduction to this official, with a request that justice
might be done them. The fact that I did not know the Resident, or the
applicant, or any of the facts of the case did not appear to them to
be an obstacle to my granting them their petition.
So hoping to attain their end by ingratiating themselves with me, they
began by adopting the methods which presumably are found to be
efficacious amongst Easterns. After profound salaams on all sides,
they refused to sit on the chairs which I offered them, but chose
humbler seats instead as a tribute to my own greatness. Flattery was
the next process, and after descanting on my accomplishments the chief
spokesman finished up by saying, "In fact I may say you are _god_."
When I pointed out the monstrosity of Hindu teaching which could
possibly allow the word to be applied to any human being, the Hindu
explained that anyone whom you hold in estimation may be called god.
Looking at the large framed photograph of the Indian editor, Mr Tilak,
who was deported out of the country for several years on account of
the seditious nature of his newspaper, the owner of the photograph
said to me, "He is a very good man; in fact he is our god."
A young student sat talking till dusk began to fall. The interval
between light and darkness is brief in tropical India. The student got
up and said he must hasten home. I asked him if he was afraid of the
dark. He said, "No, my god takes care of me." I asked him which of his
many gods would do this. He said, "Very likely Mahadeva." I asked him
where all the millions of gods lived. He said, "In heaven." I asked if
they all got on happily together. He said, "Of course." But then he
added, "There is only one real god; the others may, as it were, be
regarded as his relations"--which was a novel explanation of Hindu
mythology.
Though the ordinary Hindu conception of the characteristics of a god
does not include holiness, the sort of characteristic which may be
looked for can be illustrated by a question which an intelligent Hindu
lad asked me when I was showing him the church. "And what _battles_
did your Christ fight?" said the boy. His visit to the church was
apparently his first contact with Christianity, and he listened with
respectful attention as I told him of the Son of God coming as the
Prince of Peace.
Asking an intelligent Brahmin convert what is the Hindu conception of
prayer, he replied that with them its object is entirely a selfish
one. A Hindu prays for his own worldly prosperity--that his crops may
be good, that his business may succeed, that his children may marry
well and become rich. Asking the same informant whether Hindus pray
for others, he laughed and said, "No, never; except for the members of
their own family."
The number of Hindus who are only nominal adherents is probably much
greater than is generally supposed, because many of them still retain
the outward marks of a religion in which they have ceased to believe.
Most of these have not become atheists, but they are feeling after a
true God, and those who are in earnest in their search come as near to
Him as their imperfect knowledge allows.
An old Brahmin came into the verandah of the Mission bungalow, and
sitting down, said very seriously, "Now tell me about your Christ." He
was an army pensioner with two medals. He was seventy-five years of
age, which is considered very old for an Indian. His only knowledge of
Christianity had been gathered up in a vague way from the few
Christians he had rubbed up against in the course of military
wanderings, including a few missionaries. Yet even the amount of
contact had been a help to him. Hindus sometimes are drawn towards
Christianity by contact with even rather nominal Christians.
I asked the old Brahmin if he ever went to the village temple. "There
is no temple," he replied rather fiercely. On my assurance that he was
mistaken, he said: "Then if there is one, I have never seen it. I go
to no temple. I pray to God in heaven." "The _one_ God," he added with
emphasis. Yet he had the usual red paint marks neatly inscribed on his
forehead, and his Brahmin's thread, like a long skein of cotton, was
worn sash-like next his skin, but just peeping out a little at the
neck for the people to see. Anyone meeting him would have taken him
for a most uncompromising and orthodox Hindu.[1]
[Footnote 1: His portrait is to be found opposite p. 23, in
_Thirty-Four Years in Poona City_.]
After I had explained to another Brahmin the meaning of baptism, and
that no one is a Christian until he is baptized, the Brahmin said:
"Baptism seems very similar to our _thread_ ceremony. Till a boy has
received his thread he is not permitted to read the sacred scriptures
or to take part in religious functions. He may be the son of Hindu
parents, but he does not become a real Hindu until he has been
invested with the thread."
I asked what then was the condition of those castes who are not
entitled to wear the thread. He said that there was no ceremony of
initiation for them, and so that they remained outside. I replied
that, if this was so, it was very hard that the large majority of
Indians should be left out in the cold. He agreed, and said that this
undoubtedly was one of the weak points in their religion.