first missionary work. Few in the home-land realize how helpful to the
missionary are the bright coloured advertising cards. Wild children in
jungle villages are won by these pictures. Attendance at Sunday-school
in town may be doubled by their use. But these native children want
something more than bright colours. Strange to say that although fond
of flowers for personal adornment, they will give only a passing
glance at the showiest picture of flowers; while a picture of a
_person_,--man, woman, or child, of any race,--if in bright attire,
is eagerly seized. A darky boy riding a spool of Coat's thread is more
effective than a dull Sunday-school card for evangelizing purposes.
Bushels of such cards might be utilized.
Late that afternoon the council came together to examine the
candidates for baptism. Sitting around on the floor in all sorts of
positions they formed a strange looking group, yet as sincere and
earnest as a similar council in the home-land.
The examination was declared satisfactory, so after prayer we all
started for the river, followed by nearly the whole village, curious
to witness a Christian baptism,--the strange magic rite of initiation
into the foreign religion. This is always a grand opportunity to
preach Christ. Rather than lose the baptism they will remain and
listen as they would not at other times. So long as the missionary
remains in their village they will not show, by word or sign, that
they are not in sympathy with these proceedings. The new converts, who
have had the courage of their convictions, will be made to realize to
their sorrow the real mind of the people. On the way to this village
we met a squad of Burmans, accompanied by a native policeman. One of
the men was carrying a parcel wrapped in plantain leaves. Interested
to know what was in the parcel, that it should require a police
escort, what was our surprise to learn that it contained a dacoit's
head! Bands of dacoits had been giving a great deal of trouble.
Several of their leaders were still at large. More regular methods
having failed to secure their capture, the British Indian government
offered tempting rewards for their heads. Two men living in the
village to which we were going, surprised one of these dacoit leaders
in a jungle path, and thinking that his head would be worth more to
them than it ever would be to him, they struck it off with their
_dahs_. The head was taken to the court, where it was identified, and
the reward recovered.
Continuing our tour, we halted one morning at about ten o'clock for
breakfast. Our preachers had told us what a wicked village this was,
how the people had driven them out every time they had attempted to
preach or distribute tracts; and that only a little while before our
visit they had beaten the wife of one of the preachers because she
spoke of Christ while resting by the way. But this time there was no
danger of violence, for the presence of one white man is sufficient
security against serious molestation. So each preacher armed himself
with a handful of tracts, and started out to work the village, and
advertise our coming. Then "Mama" opened the portable organ there in
the open air, and played a few tunes. Soon quite a number of women
and children were attracted by the sound. After throwing out this
bait, we paused for breakfast, for we were hungry, hot, and tired,
having been travelling since the first signs of morning light. The
people were told to come again about noon, and bring others with
them. The news that the white teachers had come, that one was a white
_woman_, and played on a wonderful music-box, such as they never had
seen before, went like wild-fire through the village.
The building in which we hoped to have our meeting was set up on posts
several feet from the ground, according to the custom. The door was
reached by means of a ladder. How to get the people up into the house
was the question that we must solve. We placed the organ well to the
back side of the one large room, and posted the native helpers as to
our purposes. At the appointed time the people began to come,--men,
stripped to the waist as they came from their work; women smoking
huge cheroots, with babies astride their hips; children of all sizes,
some clothed, some naked. The missionary's wife took her place at the
organ and played away, tune after tune, everything she could think
of, from "Old Hundred" to "Gloria in Excelsis," and repeated the most
of them. Everything depended upon the drawing power of the music. The
preachers and Christian girls,--some up in the house, others down in
the yard,--coaxed and urged the people up the ladder until we had
filled the house. Up to this time I had kept well in the background
on account of the more timid. My object accomplished, I now climbed
up the ladder and seated myself in the door,--the only door there
was. With back against one door-jamb, and knees against the other,
I was the gladdest man on earth. We had trapped nearly the whole
village! Fully seventy-five people who had persistently refused to
listen to the gospel were penned in with the preachers. To crowd out
over a white man, even had they dared to attempt it, would have been
too great a breach of Burman etiquette. At a given signal the music
stopped, and one of the preachers addressed the people. He was the
very man whose wife had recently been beaten. He began by telling
them how he had wanted for a long time to tell them about this new
religion, but never had been permitted to do so. He reminded them of
their action in beating his wife. "But," said he, "I have no hard
feelings against you. This new religion is a religion of love. Its
sacred book tells us that 'God is love,' and that He 'So loved the
world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on
Him should not perish, but have eternal life.'" Then for about ten
minutes, with wonderful tact and earnestness, he proclaimed Christ
as the world's Saviour. After a tune on the organ, to keep the
people interested and expectant, another preacher gave his message.
Another tune, and then the third preacher emphasized what the others
had spoken. For three-quarters of an hour these people, entrapped by
strategy, listened to the gospel at short range, and were interested
in spite of themselves. But two men who were specially bitter against
the name of Christ, climbed out through a window and dropped to the
ground.
In the outskirts of that village we found an aged couple who professed
to be followers of Christ. They had heard the gospel elsewhere, and
with what light they had, believed. The villages had utterly cut them
off, refusing to sell to them, buy from them, or even allow them to
draw water from the village well. But these old people had found the
"Water of life." In their hearts shone all the light there was in
that terribly benighted village. Both of them died in the faith a few
years later. Many of the Karens have come down from the mountains and
started villages of their own in the plains. Until the English had
thoroughly subdued the country this was not possible, as the Karens
were terribly oppressed by the Burmans. On one of our jungle tours we
came across one of these Karen villages. Nearly all the men understood
colloquial Burmese. They received the missionary party with great
kindness, and eagerly listened to the gospel, which they had not
heard before. The fifteen houses comprising the village were built at
regular intervals around the outer edge of the small clearing they
made in the forest.
In the open space the Karens were seated in a semicircle on the
ground, with the missionary and native preachers in front.
We were about to sow precious seed in virgin soil. Not a soul had ever
heard of Christ before. The story must begin at the beginning,--the
Eternal God; the creation; the fall; the revelation of God in Jesus
Christ--the Saviour of the world. As he went on to tell of Christ's
majesty and holiness, of His wonderful words and works I was deeply
stirred. Suddenly the face of the head-man lighted up, and with a
twinkle in his eye he interrupted the preacher. Pointing to me he
said: "Is this your Christ?" For a moment his question seemed merely
ridiculous. But as the preacher continued his good work, my mind was
busy with this heathen Karen's mistake. When it dawned upon me that
he had actually mistaken me for Christ, I never was so overwhelmed
in all my life. And yet, I thought, is it such a mistake? True, the
God-man was infinitely superior to any human being. But the missionary
represents, for the time, all that these people can know of Christ.
They must see exemplified in me the principles of Christianity, and
the spirit of its Founder. They must see His holiness reproduced in
my daily life. As He, when tried at all points, was without sin; when
reviled, reviled not again; emerging calm and triumphant from every
distracting storm, so I must manifest the Master's spirit, and by
His help preserve self-control under the most trying circumstances.
They must see Christ truly represented in my life until they can
look beyond, to Him who is the "Author and perfecter of our faith."
That was a high standard set for me by that poor heathen Karen, but
it has proved more helpful to me than anything in all my Christian
experience. It stimulated me to strive the harder to be able to say to
my people "Be ye imitators of me, as I also am of Christ."
The Burman race has the reputation of being thriftless and lazy. Many
have prophesied that the "Burman must go to the wall" before the
encroachments of natives of India, Chinese, and Karens. As seen in the
chief towns the Burman has fairly earned such a reputation.
If he has government employment, even a petty clerkship, he is good
for nothing else. Many are "birds of the night"--gamblers--and loafers
by day.
The average citizen spends the most of his time in indolence,
supported by his more enterprising wife.
But in the jungle villages we find a very different state of affairs.
Few men are found in the village in the daytime. To prepare their
land, plant, harvest, thresh, and market the crop of rice, requires
diligent work almost the whole year round. I have almost regretted
their diligence sometimes, when compelled to spend a day in almost
idleness waiting for the men to return from their fields at sunset.
Then an hour or so passes while they are getting their evening meal.
By this time it is pitch dark, if there is no moon. There is not a
lamp in the whole village. Ordinary methods will not attract tired
men from their homes. There is no time for house-to-house preaching.
But the Gospel _must be preached_. If we cannot reach them by day we
must reach them by night. In the home-land a magic-lantern service
is resorted to now and then, as a special attraction. We have come
prepared to do the same in the jungle villages. Early in the day we
clean up a spot in the centre of the village, and stretch our large
white curtain between two trees, or support it by bamboo poles. A
clean white sheet in a conspicuous place, is a novelty in itself
sufficient to advertise the presence of outsiders. While tracts
are being distributed from house to house the evening service is
announced. If there is no musical instrument to call the people
together the head-man is asked to sound his gong at the appointed time.
[Illustration: TRANSPLANTING RICE]
[Illustration: DORIAN SELLERS]
The magic lantern never fails to draw a crowd. But as the first
picture is thrown upon the screen we notice that many are hanging back
where they cannot see and hear to the best advantage. Then we discover
that this has been mistaken for a traveling show, and that they are
keeping out of reach of the collection plate. They can hardly believe
our repeated assertion that all this is for them, "without money and
without price." At last the crowd is gathered in as close as possible,
the children sitting on the ground in front. At first we show a few
pictures illustrating their own life and customs. How pleased they are
when a Burmese damsel arrayed in gaudy skirt and flowers, appears on
the screen. Then we pass to pictures illustrating mission work among
their own people, taking care to emphasize the fact that Christianity
has already made substantial progress in Burma,--has come to stay. By
this time our dusky audience has become accustomed to the novelty of
the situation, and is ready to settle down to look and listen.
Now we pass to our real purpose,--the setting forth of Jesus Christ as
the world's Saviour. Often the preacher has been met with the demand,
"Show us your God." That "God is a Spirit, and they that worship Him
must worship in spirit and truth" is beyond the comprehension of the
heathen mind. He has no conception of an eternal, invisible God. He
can point to his god in that idol-house on the hilltop, but where is
the Christian's god? Great care is taken at the outset to make them
understand that these pictures of Christ on the screen are in no sense
idols; that we do not worship the pictures. Then each picture is made
a text for a brief but earnest sermon, as we strive to convey to them,
through eye and ear, some conception of the majesty, power, holiness,
and love of God as revealed in Christ. There is a crisis when we reach
the picture of the crucifixion. Christ is the Christian's God, and
_his God is dead_. That thought is expressed in various exclamations.
Up to this point we seemed to be carrying our audience with us, but
now they slip from our grasp. For the moment the case seems lost, the
message rejected. How earnestly we pray that the Holy Spirit will
make "the attraction of the cross" realized by these heathen men and
women. Have we made a mistake in displaying the cross in the first
proclamation of the gospel in these villages? Surely "Christ and Him
crucified" was the central theme of Paul's preaching, wherever he was.
He Himself said, "And I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto
Me." This theme and this picture shall have their place,--we will
leave the result with God. Without waiting for too much of a reaction
we pass to the picture of the resurrection. At once the preacher
gathers fresh courage. With earnestness and triumph in his voice he
sets forth the glorious fact of the resurrection. "Yes, Christ died
for our sins, but He laid down His life that He might take it again."
After citing proofs of the resurrection we close with the ascension.
Christ enthroned, with "All power in heaven and on earth," "ever
liveth to make intercession for us."
The people fully understand that there has been nothing supernatural
in the appearing of the pictures on the screen, and yet they are
more deeply impressed than when appealed to through the ear alone.
As one man expressed it, "How can we disbelieve, when we have seen
with our own eyes." For day-work we sometimes use large coloured
pictures illustrating the life of Christ. A bamboo pole is fastened
up horizontally about five feet from the ground. The picture-roll is
suspended under the pole so that each picture, when done with, can
be thrown back over the pole. This method is very effective with the
children, and can be used when the older people are at their work.
Both old and young enjoy the pictures, for all have child-minds.
On one occasion we were preaching by this method in a Karen village. A
middle aged Karen, a typical specimen of "the Great Unwashed," planted
himself directly in front of the picture, intensely interested in what
he saw and heard. As the young preacher graphically described some
of Christ's miracles, or told of the sad events of the Passion Week,
the man's face was a study. Its expression changed with the varying
sentiment of the message,--now wreathed in a smile that showed all of
his blackened teeth; now drawn down with a look of sadness that would
have been comical but for the sacredness of the theme. The narration
of Christ's heavenly words and works would be responded to by an "Ugh,
Ugh" of approval; the story of His rejection, by the same grunts in
a different tone, expressive of disapproval. This man, at least, was
ripe for a personal application of the message.
Now and then we find a village in which is more than the usual amount
of prejudice against Europeans. The people have suffered some real
or imagined oppression. Not being able to discriminate between the
missionary and the official, they naturally resent his coming.
Sometimes a whole day must be spent in disarming their fear. We learn
that a man is sick with fever,--the medicine-box is opened and the
sick man treated. Children come peeping around the corners, and we win
them with picture-cards. A young mother goes by with her little one
astride her hip, and we praise the baby. So by degrees we work our way
into their confidence and prepare the way for our message.
Not always can the missionary accompany his native evangelist in their
jungle tours. It may be that other forms of mission-work compel him
to remain at headquarters. It may be that his health has become so
affected by the climate that he can no longer endure the unavoidable
hardship and exposure. It may be that funds are wanting to cover the
expense of further touring. Missionary experience has demonstrated
the wisdom of adopting the Master's method, and he sends out his
native helpers "two by two." One man alone confronting the forces
of heathenism, may become disheartened. Poorly trained, he may find
himself led into argument only to be worsted. He may get sick, and
have no one to take care of him, or carry a message to his friends.
But "two by two," one encourages the other. When preaching, one
supplements the other. The one who follows warms to his work even more
earnestly than the one who led off. What one does not think of the
other one does. We have often marvelled at their faithfulness, knowing
that nearly every attempt to preach Christ to the heathen is met by a
rebuff from some one. They may have made repeated attempts without any
sign of fruitage. Should they "shake off the dust" of their feet as
a testimony against every village in which their message is not well
received, they would soon cover the ground, and go out of business.
Often after a day of ox-cart riding, followed by preaching extending
well into the evening, we have retired to our curtained corner in a
native house, so weary that a bamboo floor seemed smooth and soft.
Retired, but not to sleep,--for no sooner are we out of sight than the
preaching begins again. Among the many who have heard the gospel, one,
two, or half a dozen want to know more about this new teaching. They
climb up into the house, and with the preachers form a circle around
the smoking tin lamp. To ten, twelve, or one o'clock in the night
the preaching goes on. We forget our weariness, for we know that the
very best work of all is now being done. The preachers are face to
face with the few who are willing or anxious to hear, unhindered by
scoffers or fear of neighbours.
Native evangelists are not encouraged to attend heathen festivals by
themselves, although these large gatherings furnish good opportunities
for preaching and tract distribution. Their presence at a heathen
festival might be misunderstood, besides furnishing an excuse to
weaker Christians who might be attracted by the pomp and show. The
one exception is the heathen funeral. As has already been pointed
out, the funeral is also a festival, but animated to some extent by
a different spirit. There are genuine mourners in the house, besides
the wailers who make such ado by turns. There are truly sympathetic
friends, besides the many who attend because it is customary, or to
share in the feast. There is one solemn subject, death, that will
not down, besides the idle chatter of the throng. Here is the place
for the preacher. Now and then, it is true, he is summarily dismissed
the moment he attempts to preach. But as a rule he finds many who are
in a sober, thinking frame of mind, ready to listen to the Christian
teacher's view of death and the Great Beyond. That the deceased will
some time reappear, as man or animal, they believe, but not as the
same individual.
The Christian doctrine of the immortality of the soul, is
utterly foreign to all their thinking. They have no conception
of a final state of bliss or misery. Nothing is final except
Neikban,--annihilation,--and few there be who find it. In the
Christian doctrine they see a ray of hope. Some from real interest,
others from curiosity will listen to the message. Sometimes it happens
that the deceased was the heathen wife of a Christian husband, or the
heathen husband of a Christian wife, for they do not always separate
where one is converted to Christianity. Such a case happened near our
home. Ever since his baptism Ko Poo had led a terrible life with his
heathen wife, who cherished the most intense hatred of everything
Christian. After a lingering illness Ko Poo realized that his time had
come. Far from dreading death he hailed it as bringing sweet release
from an unhappy life. Before his death he made his will, bound his
little ten year old boy to the mission, and secured the missionary's
promise that in spite of all opposition, he should have Christian
burial. His people were given their choice whether to have the remains
taken to the Christian chapel or to have a Christian service in the
house, in which his wife would still be living. They chose the latter
course. But an unforeseen event occurred, complicating matters. The
wife was taken suddenly ill, and died at half-past seven in the
morning, two hours before the death of her husband.