the disease. Such was the case in Burma, under Burman rule, and still
is the case throughout the land, outside of a few municipalities
under English control. Even in the larger towns the rule that lepers
shall go to the asylums, or dwell "without the camp" is not rigidly
enforced. The leper is an outcast, so treated by his own race even
more than by Europeans, but this does not prevent him from wandering
at will through the crowded streets and bazars. Rags that have
covered his repulsive sores may be cast away where men traffic and
children play. They are permitted to marry among themselves, thereby
perpetuating and multiplying the terrible disease. The latest census
gives a total of 4,190 lepers in Burma alone. Of this number 2,940
are males, 1,250 females. This does not include the large number of
untainted children of leprous parents, doomed to become lepers later
in life. On the streets one may observe leprosy in all stages. One
shows no other sign than swollen feet, and may not even know that he
has become a leper. Another shows unmistakable signs of the disease by
white, red, or violet patches on his skin.
Another is in the last stage of the disease. Where once were feet
and hands are only stumps. Some have what is left of feet and hands
bandaged with foul rags. Others, whether from lack of wherewith to
bandage, or in order to excite sympathy and almsgiving, expose their
repulsive sores. Passing Buddhists may now and then toss a copper into
the tin-cup, to get merit for themselves, but of compassion they have
little or none. The leper's own fate or ill-luck, the outcome of evil
committed in past existences, has overtaken him. There is no help for
it. Why trouble about it? "Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also
reap," is a tenet of Buddhism, as well as of Christianity, but with
no place for repentance or forgiveness. Fortunately leprosy is not
infectious. There is not the slightest danger from near approach. It
is generally believed that it is not even contagious, like smallpox
or scarlet fever. No doubt there is danger of contracting the disease
by inoculation. Some claim that the use of imperfectly cured, or
putrid fish as an article of diet, is the cause of leprosy. This seems
reasonable, but there is ample evidence that it is not the only cause.
Both cause and cure still furnish fields for investigation by medical
science. Of the 4,190 lepers in Burma only about 560 are in Leper
Homes.
This work is conducted by the Wesleyan and Roman Catholic missions
in Mandalay, the Rangoon municipality, and the Baptist mission in
Maulmein.
Never yet have the Buddhists of Burma lifted a finger to alleviate
the sufferings of their outcasts. Whatever desultory and trifling
almsgiving as has been indulged in has been prompted not by compassion
but by selfishness, to add to the giver's own store of merit.
This is Buddhism, in both theory and practice. Buddhism has been
extolled as a religion of love and peace. Its love is self-love; its
peace self-conceit, and indifference to the sufferings of others.
But Christian missionaries are teaching a striking object lesson.
While proclaiming the love of God in Christ, they are exemplifying
their teaching by putting forth a mighty effort to relieve these
unfortunates who have been cast off by their own people. English
officials give this work their sympathy and assistance. The number to
share the benefits of the asylums will steadily increase. Hundreds of
lepers, homeless, friendless, and hopeless, waiting and longing for
the end, wander about in all the towns and villages of the land. This
wandering habit is the chief obstacle to work among them. So long as
subsistence can be gained by begging, many prefer change of scene to
the more certain comforts of the Leper Home. But the time is not far
distant when, in the larger towns at least, they will not be allowed
to roam at will.
Work for the lepers appeals to the hearts of all races, in all
Christian lands. Until effective means are devised to check
the propagation of this terrible disease, the need will be
ever-increasing.
VII
A NATION IN TRANSITION
In nearly all non-Christian lands the first impressions of western
civilization have come from the aggressions of commerce.
The minister of a foreign government has preceded the missionary of
the Cross.
The flag of a foreign nation has gone in advance of the banner of
Christianity.
Both political and commercial relations may have been forced upon
the people of the weaker nation. All this may have been in the best
interests of the world at large; probably in the best interests of the
people themselves, however slow they have been to realize it.
Were Christian nations always worthily represented commercial,
diplomatic, and evangelistic efforts might cooperate for the uplifting
of backward races. In the initial attempts to bring about the
remolding of a nation, the restraining influence upon the natives,
as exercised by the missionaries, is of inestimable importance.
Missionaries in turn, need protection from fanatical and ignorant
natives, so easily influenced by irresponsible characters, to
desperate deeds.
New colonies invariably become a dumping ground for adventurers.
Government officials, "transferred for cause," drift farther and
farther towards the frontier. Because of a scarcity of trained
men certain positions have been filled by persons morally unfit
to represent a civilized people. So it transpires that civil law
sometimes becomes civil lawlessness, which men in higher positions are
powerless wholly to restrain. But sweeping charges that officials of
whatever nation, in outlying colonies, are "profligate and tyrannical"
do gross injustice to many noble men who are doing their utmost for
the advancement of morality and justice. Burma has suffered as other
colonies have suffered. But there is steady progress for the better.
The various departments of government are becoming more thoroughly
organized; competent and trustworthy men are in the ascendant. But
throughout the period since the annexation of Burma by the British
Indian government--impressions far from complimentary to a Christian
nation have become indelibly fixed in the native mind.
[Illustration: THE LAST KING OF BURMA]
Vice is always more conspicuous than virtue. Unscrupulous men have
brought reproach upon a Christian nation; and created strong prejudice
against Christianity itself, that many years of good government and
evangelistic effort combined cannot efface. The innocent must suffer
suspicion with the guilty. It is also true that natives are naturally
suspicious of all foreigners, and apt to regard even necessary
measures as oppressive. The old question "Is it lawful to give tribute
to Cæsar?" crops out wherever tribute is exacted. Every son of Adam,
the world over, holds the tax collector in contempt, and will evade
payment if possible. "Publicans and sinners" are inseparably wedded,
in the popular mind.
This deeply-grounded prejudice, whether with or without cause,
constitutes a serious hindrance to the progress of evangelistic work.
Often the missionary must spend a whole day in a jungle village
striving to win the confidence of the people, who are slow to
discriminate between the missionary and the official. Suspicion as to
his character and errand is a greater hindrance than their prejudice
against Christianity as such.
At the same time there is reason for believing that could the Burmans
throw off the British yoke, and reestablish a kingdom of their own,
missionaries would not be permitted to propagate Christianity at all.
In February, 1826, Adoniram Judson and Dr. Price, having been released
from their long imprisonment at Ava and Aungbinle, were finally
permitted to go down to the British camp, Mrs. Judson accompanying
them. The release of these American missionaries, and the recovery of
their property, of which the Burman officials had heartlessly robbed
them, were due entirely to special efforts in their behalf on the
part of the general commanding the British troops. Mrs. Judson thus
recounted their experiences: "We now, for the first time, for more
than a year and a half, felt that we were free, and no longer subject
to the oppressive yoke of the Burmans. And with what sensation of
delight, on the next morning, did I behold the masts of the steamboat,
the sure presage of being within the bounds of civilized life. As
soon as our boat reached the shore, Brigadier A---- and another
officer came on board, congratulated us on our arrival, and invited
us on board the steamboat where I passed the remainder of the day;
while Mr. Judson went on to meet the general, who, with a detachment
of the army, had encamped at Yandaboo, a few miles further down the
river. Mr. Judson returned in the evening with an invitation from
Sir Archibald to come immediately to his quarters, where I was the
next morning introduced, and received with the greatest kindness by
the general, who had a tent pitched for us near his own, took us to
his own table, and treated us with the kindness of a father, rather
than as strangers of another country. We feel that our obligations to
General Campbell can never be cancelled. Our final release from Ava,
and our recovering all the property that had there been taken, was
owing entirely to his efforts.
"His subsequent hospitality, and kind attention to the accommodation
for our passage to Rangoon, have left an impression on our minds,
which can never be effaced. We daily received the congratulations
of the British officers, whose conduct towards us formed a striking
contrast to that of the Burmese. I presume to say that no persons on
earth were ever happier than we were during the fortnight we passed at
the English camp. For several days this single idea wholly occupied my
mind,--that we were out of the power of the Burmese government, and
once more under the protection of the English" (Memoir of Rev. Dr.
Judson, by Wayland).
Such testimony as this is enough to arouse a sense of everlasting
gratitude in the heart of every missionary whose privilege it is
to conduct mission work under the protection of the British flag.
Happily there has never been another occasion in the history of Burma
missions to extend such kindnesses as Mr. and Mrs. Judson enjoyed at
the hands of these English officers. But missionaries of all societies
represented in Burma have always been able to number among their best
friends noble men in some department of government service, civil or
military.
Transitions are more readily effected in government than in religion.
The "Powers that be," though recently come into their possessions,
speak authoritatively. "Might makes right," and compels changes.
A foreign religion speaks persuasively, having no authority, and
desiring none, to compel its acceptance. When a foreign religion
enters ground already preempted by twenty-five centuries of such a
strongly organized religion as Buddhism, transitions may also be
reckoned by centuries. The world may witness the evangelization of
Burma "in this generation," but it cannot recall the three generations
of Burmans that have gone out in the dark since Judson began his work
in this land.
"Their idols are silver and gold, the work of men's hands."--"They
that make them are like unto them: so every one that trusteth in
them." The image of Gautama Buddha bears on its face an expression,
or rather lack of expression intended to represent that, to him,
change was forever past. The idol as truly represents Buddhism as it
does the founder of Buddhism. There is no word in the Burman language
of wider application than the word for "custom." On that word the
Buddhist falls back for justification of every act, as sufficient
reason for non-action, as a clincher to every argument. He attaches
greater weight to ancestral custom than to the teachings of his "law"
or to the dictates of his own judgment. When defeated at every point,
in religious controversy he has been known to say, "If what you say
is true, then my ancestors have gone to hell. I want to go wherever
they have gone. If they have gone to hell, I want to go there too."
Aged Buddhists have said: "Our children may become Christians, but we
are too old to change. We will die in Buddhism, as we have lived."
They are "like unto" their idols in that they seem to have no power
to change. Having "changed the glory of the incorruptible God for
the likeness of corruptible man"; "Exchanged the truth of God for a
lie, and worshipped and served the creature (Gautama) rather than the
creator," and "Refused to have God in their knowledge," they seem to
have been given up to a "reprobate mind." They now declare that there
is no God. If there is no God there can be no sin against God. Sins
are against _self_ only, in that they involve penalty. But penalty may
be counter-balanced by meritorious works. Therefore all responsibility
to God or man is repudiated. Each man must be his own saviour. His
meritorious works are solely for his own advantage.
Self-centred, and self-sufficient,--the Christian doctrines of an
Eternal God, atonement, pardon, regeneration and heaven are rejected
as idle tales concerning things which they consider neither necessary
nor desirable. The Apostles, or missionaries (sent-forth-ones) of
the early church found that the Gentiles received the gospel much
more readily than the Jews. The latter were steeped in bigotry, and
imagined themselves a superior and specially favoured people. They
were priest-ridden, and led astray by the "traditions of the elders."
Any suggestion of change was deeply resented, especially by the
religious teachers. History repeats itself in Burma. Non-Buddhist
tribes receive the gospel far more readily than the Buddhist.
Buddhists manifest the same Jewish spirit of haughty pride and
arrogant bigotry. They are priest-ridden, and bound down by teachings
and customs never dreamed of by the founder of their religious system.
Pharisees decreed that if any man should confess Jesus to be the
Christ, he should be put out of the synagogue. Where there were no
Pharisees to agitate against the Christian missionaries the common
people heard them gladly. While the Karens, as a nation, have already
passed the transitional stage, the Burmans are still held back by
their pharisaical priests, who never lack willing instruments for
the execution of their malice against converts to Christianity. But
in communities where there are no priests to hold the people in awe,
native evangelists have little difficulty in securing a good hearing.
This indicates the real spirit of the people when untrammelled by
intimidating influences. Human nature is much the same the world over.
Environment and inherited custom make men to differ. Results already
achieved (to be discussed in another chapter) show that Burma is in a
state of transition religiously as well as politically, though less
conspicuously.
[Illustration: GOVERNMENT HOUSE, RANGOON]
The sure promise of God that Christ shall have the nations for His
inheritance; the uttermost parts of the earth for His possessions, has
here substantial beginnings of fulfillment. Uhlhorn said of the Roman
Empire in transition: "The most mighty of forces cannot change in a
day the customs and institutions of an Empire more than a thousand
years old." In Burma these forces are arrayed against customs and
institutions that have developed during a period of twenty-five
hundred years. Change of government effects outward changes in
the life of a people; but more than mere change of government is
required to work changes for the better in the soul of a people.
Aping European customs may give an air of increased respectability,
but the aping of European vices, always first in order, makes the
man "Tenfold more a child of hell" than before. Much is expected
from the government system of education. Education will furnish a
supply of petty officials; raise the people to some extent, from
their gross ignorance; and possibly do something towards undermining
Buddhism,--though to undermine Buddhism is far from being the purpose
or desire of the British Indian government. But something more than
education is required to prepare a nation to be an inheritance of the
King of Kings. The gospel, and only the gospel is the power of God
unto the salvation of any nation.
In industry, skill, statesmanship, and all the qualities that go to
make up a strong people, the Burmans are sadly lacking. To come to
the front rank of progress, as the Japanese have done, is not in
them, and never will be. But as a dependent nation, restrained by
their conquerors from the almost continual warfare which marks their
history; and transformed by the leavening influences of Christianity,
they may yet take the front rank among Asiatic races as a Christian
people.
VIII
"BY ALL MEANS--SAVE SOME"
In face of the fact that whole nations lie in the darkness of
heathenism; bound down by ancestral customs; priest-ridden; wedded
to their idols;--what seeming folly for a handful of missionaries to
attempt the world's evangelization. How futile the task of breaking
down the strongholds of heathen religions that have stood for
centuries. So they sneered at Carey the cobbler. So they tried to
discourage Judson. A ship's captain once asked an out-going missionary
to China:
"Do you think you can make any impression on the four hundred millions
of China?" "No," said the missionary. "But God can."
A coloured preacher discoursing on faith, and warming to his subject
said, "If God tole me to jump froo dat wall, I'd _jump_. De jumpin'
_froo_ belongs to God. De jumpin' _at it_ belongs to me." God
certainly has commanded His people to "jump" through the wall of
heathenism. The command is clear, emphatic, and large with divine
intensity, and promise of power and triumph.
Nothing was said as to methods to be employed in making disciples.
There are many ways of proclaiming the gospel. It may fairly be
inferred that any or all effective methods may be employed; and that
methods may vary according to varying circumstances, in order "by all
means to save some."
There is danger of too narrow an interpretation of instructions.
As an illustration, take the case of Paul, who "determined to know
nothing" among the Corinthian Christians "save Jesus Christ and Him
crucified." But in elaborating his theme he found occasion to discuss
social purity, matrimony, divorce, celibacy, apparel for the sexes,
the place of woman in public gatherings, as well as church discipline
and collections. Whatever instruction was needed for the moral and
spiritual development of the individual had a direct bearing upon
his central theme. Such instruction could not be omitted without
dwarfing the benefits of Christ's sacrifice. In God's plan for the
evangelization of the world "The foolishness of the preaching" is
to "save them that believe"; "Christ crucified" furnishing both the
theme and the power. All other plans have failed. But this theme
may be proclaimed in many ways;--by the evangelist, as he goes from
village to village; by the pastor from the pulpit; by the teacher in
the daily Bible-study of the school; by the medical missionary, whose
ministrations of mercy are sermons in themselves; by the holy life of
missionary and disciple; even by the Christian chapel, standing in a
heathen community as a silent yet significant witness for Christ. All
of these forces, and others are being used of God in the redemption of
Burma.
"Direct evangelization," or the proclamation of the gospel-message
from village to village, throughout the large district to which a
missionary has been assigned, is the predominating method.
Our first experience in this line came when we had been but a few
months in Burma. A messenger from a village twenty-three miles
away came to inform us that two young men wanted to be baptized.
Having already made plans to visit that village we prepared at once
to respond to the summons. When a Burman wishes to be baptized in
the presence of the heathen people of his own village, it is taken
as evidence that the Holy Spirit is working in his heart. Such
opportunities must not be neglected.
First we must summon our forces. U Po Hlaing must go, because this is
the village in which he used to live, and these converts are fruits
of his labours. Ko Thaleh must go, because he has had much experience
in examining candidates, and his judgment can be trusted. Maung Ka
must go, because he is young, full of fire, and will not cease to
preach the gospel, whatever the circumstances. But it is not easy
to secure an audience in the heathen village, unless there is some
special attraction. "Music hath charms" to draw the people from their
homes, and hold them until the preachers have done their work. "Mama"
is going, with the portable organ, and some of the Christian girls
to sing, insuring success though other methods fail. After going
seventeen miles by rail we still had six miles to make by ox-cart. The
delight of an ox-cart ride over rough jungle roads beggars description.
The driver sits on the projecting front, guiding the animals, or
pretending to, by means of a rope passed through their noses.
Just as we are about to sit down the oxen start. We save ourselves by
clutching at somebody else. A desire to say something emphatic to the
driver is overcome by inability to speak his language, and a feeling
of thankfulness that we are still on deck. The road is conspicuous
by its absence,--but that does not matter. All the driver wants is
to get his bearings, then off he goes across sun-baked rice-fields,
and through the jungle. By instinct he knows that a straight line is
the shortest distance between two points, and he keeps to that line
without regard to obstructions or our feelings. At last we reach the
river, and see on the opposite bank the thatch-roofed houses of the
village. The preachers shout to the villagers, and soon two boats
are poled across to take us over. Our boat is a long narrow dug-out,
our boatman a chubby Burmese girl. We are in momentary expectation
of being dumped into the river; but happily our expectations are not
realized. Chubby enjoys it immensely, and seems proud when she has
landed us safely. Landing means that the dug-out has stuck in the mud,
twenty feet from shore. The natives could wade, and so could we, but
we did not like to, through all that mud. A brawny bare-backed Burman
soon solved the problem by taking "Mama" in his arms and carrying her
to the shore, returning to take the "Sayah" on pick-a-pack.
We were piloted to a house at the farther end of the village.
Ascending by a short ladder to the open veranda we were glad to
stretch out on the split-bamboo floor for a little rest. After we
had eaten supper, and the men and women had returned from their work
in the rice-fields, the portable organ was placed in position. In
response to its tones, sounds never heard before in that village, men,
women, and children came from all directions. Some sat around on the
ground, others climbed the ladder and filled all available space. The
preachers did their best to make known the "Glad Tidings." Whenever
the audience showed signs of thinning out, the organ would send
forth another appeal, restoring numbers and interest. Sankey's songs,
translated into Burmese, were sung with vigour by the schoolgirls. The
"Old, Old Story" seemed to take new meaning when sung to the heathen
by some of their own people who had learned to love it and live by it.
During the following day, while the people were busy at their work,
our attention was given to the children.
A dozen or so, drawn by curiosity, had collected about the house.
Some were half clad, others with no protection whatever, save a string
around the neck, with one large bead attached.
All were very dirty, and as shy as rabbits. After winning their
confidence a picture card was given to each, with instructions to go
and bring other children.
[Illustration: HOW WE TRAVEL BY CART AND BOAT]