spirit of interference with all Christian doings. Be that as it may,
it was now inevitable that there would also be a heathen funeral
at the house, at the same time. Here was an occasion calling for
diplomacy, but not for yielding. They knew the missionary too well to
expect him and his native preachers to quit the field. According to
native custom a body is kept from three to five days,--a dangerous
custom, to say the least, in a tropical country, with no facilities
for embalming. The remains of the wife might be kept longer if they so
desired, but according to Christian custom the funeral of the husband
must be held on the second day. "Oh, no, that would not be good. They
had lived together so long, now let them be buried at the same time."
So they yielded that point. Next, where should they be buried? The
Christians had their cemetery, and the Buddhists had theirs. The
missionary could plead his promise to the dying man that he should
have Christian burial, a promise badly kept if the interment should
be in the Buddhist cemetery. Of course they were not willing that the
wife should be buried in the Christian cemetery,--so that point was
peaceably gained. Then, how should the two coffins be conveyed to
their last resting place? "As they had lived together so long, let
the two coffins be carried side by side,"--but that would not do, for
they were not bound for the same destination,--another point quietly
gained. The next problem was, should the usual expensive spire-topped
bier be constructed, on which to place the wife's coffin. The
Christians were not providing anything of that kind, so the heathen
friends were easily persuaded to forego their custom for once, and
save the money, for the benefit of the orphaned children. When the
time came for the Christians' service the missionary repaired to the
house, whither the native preachers had already gone. In fact, one
or more of them had remained there the entire time from the death
of Ko Poo. At the appearance of the missionary and the Christian
company the tom-toms ceased their din, and the room was made for all
to enter. When a movement was made to bring from the upper part of
the house the coffin containing the remains of the husband, one of
the heathen relatives suggested that both coffins be brought down, at
the same time, and be placed on the trestle side by side. When this
had been done, the missionary made a sign to the native pastor that
all was ready for the service to begin. Then the situation, of their
own creating, dawned upon them. A Christian service was about to be
held over the wife as well as the husband! A man jumped up in anger to
protest, but was quietly though emphatically told to sit down and not
disturb the service. Christian hymns were sung, appropriate scripture
read, prayer offered, and brief but earnest talks made by three of
the Christian workers, including the missionary. A crowd had gathered
filling all available space in the large room, and open space out to
the street. There was not the slightest disturbance or evidence of
dissatisfaction throughout the service. Scores heard for the first
time of Christ--"the Resurrection and the Life." Many others heard
anew, under more impressive conditions. Then the procession formed,
the Christian section in advance, and all moved slowly up the street,
to the sound of the tom-toms in the rear. At the Buddhist cemetery,
the heathen section swung off, the Christians going a short distance
beyond to their cemetery. The husband's relatives followed with the
Christians. After a brief service at the grave, all returned to their
homes. So closed a unique experience, and a rare opportunity to
proclaim Christ as Saviour.
Often the Christians have opportunity to minister to a mourning
mother--"weeping for her children; and she would not be comforted,
because they were not." In a twofold sense "they are not." According
to Buddhist belief, for infants there is no hope. Little boys are
hardly considered human beings until they have spent at least one day
in a monastery. The status of little girls is still more uncertain.
The mourning mother has not even David's comfort, "I shall go to him,
but he will not return to me." She sorrows without hope. Her little
one is dead, it was too young to have a soul, it is simply to be taken
away into the jungle and buried. How her face brightens with hope, in
spite of her belief, when we tell her that her little one is safe in
heaven. She is ready to listen to the sweet story of Jesus blessing
little children; and saying to His disciples, "Suffer the little
children to come unto Me; and forbid them not; for to such belongeth
the kingdom of heaven." Her mind may be so dark that she fails to take
in its wealth of meaning, but it is a message of comfort, at least.
Even some native Christians who had lost little ones before their own
conversion, have carried with them the old heathen ideas concerning
their lost ones until assured by the teacher that they will see their
little ones again. This truth comes to them as a blessed revelation,
giving joy and hope in place of sadness. Human nature is much the
same, the world over; the same susceptibility to joy and sorrow.
Christ in the heart makes all the difference.
A sad occasion, furnishing a grand opportunity, was the burial of a
little child of mixed parentage. The father had returned to England,
leaving his native concubine and two little children. The younger,
only about nine months old, sickened and died. Heathen friends and
relatives of the mother came to the mission with a request that
the child be buried according to Christian custom. A large company
gathered at the grave, all Buddhists except the missionary and the
native pastor. The heathen friends were allowed to set a circle of
lighted candles around the grave according to their custom. Then a
short passage of scripture was read, containing the Saviour's words
"Suffer the little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not, for
to such belongeth the kingdom of heaven"; and "He took them in His
arms and blessed them, laying His hands upon them." Men and women
listened intently while the precious truth, so new and strange to
them, was set forth that these little ones, far from being soulless
creatures,--as Buddhism teaches,--are choicest material for the
paradise of God. And that except a man become as a little child, in
simple trust and purity of heart, he cannot enter the kingdom of
God. Returning to their homes these people must pass the missionary's
house. Twenty of them stopped to get tracts that they might learn more
about the Glad Tidings.
Another method of preaching Christ is through "medical missions," or
the incidental medical work, which every missionary must perform. As a
philanthropic work medical missions would be justified from a purely
medical or humanitarian point of view. The woman who had "suffered
much from many physicians" was a victim of men probably much more
advanced in the knowledge of medicine than the average Burman doctor.
Both the diagnosis and the treatment are based on superstition.
The so-called doctor enters that profession because he has a taste
for it and thinks he can do well (for himself) at it. He requires no
training, and no drugs other than he can pick up in the jungle as he
goes along,--herbs, barks, and roots of a peculiar smell, shells,
stones, etc. carefully gathered at the right time of the moon. Some
of the articles in his stock possess a real medicinal value, and
now and then are put to their proper use, as is the case in country
districts the world over. Any one of the ninety-six diseases which,
according to the Burman notion, the flesh is heir to, may have come
from one of about as many different causes. The sick man may have
been bewitched, one of their many demons may be having a turn at him,
or perhaps he has offended the great nagah, or dragon. If it is due
to the balance of kan, fate being against him, the case is hopeless.
That the sickness was caused by eating unripe fruit, drinking from a
polluted well, or eating dried and putrid fish seldom occurs to the
man of science who has come on to the scene to lessen the chances
of recovery. Such is the fear of cholera that cathartics, in many
cases the only remedy needed, are rarely given. Some of the Burmese,
averse to taking medicine of any kind, prefer to call a dietist. No
matter what the ailment may be, the patient's birthday determines the
treatment. Every Burman knows the day of the week on which he was
born, though he may not know the month or the year.
His own name would recall the day, should he forget it. Certain
letters are assigned to each day of the week, according to the planet
from which the day took its name. The person's name must begin with
one of the several letters belonging to his birthday. Now in like
manner all kinds of food beginning with one of those letters the
patient must carefully _shaung_,--avoid. Rice would be tabooed on
Saturday, but as no Burman can eat at all without rice, an exception
is made, to save the doctor's popularity. Burying an effigy of the
sick person is sometimes resorted to, in order to fool the demon who
is hanging around the house. Thinking his victim has died, he will
depart. Massage sometimes is very helpful. Half a dozen people in a
village are noted for their knowledge of the muscles of the human
body, and for special skill in the shampooing process, but nearly
every man and woman attempts it now and then. This may be done with
the hands, or by treading slowly back and forth on the prone body of
the sufferer. Practiced with discrimination it has more value than all
the nostrums of doctors or dietists. But unfortunately the Burmese
practice it for everything, from a lame toe to confinement cases.
A prominent Burman in Rangoon recently declared as his belief that
Burma's immunity from the plague is due to the reverence of the people
for the "three precious things" of Buddhism, "the Buddha, the law,
and the priest." Against the occult power of Karma on the right side
of the scale, accumulated by such faithful observance of the noble
precept, the baccilli of the plague can make no headway. By the same
reasoning the presence of the plague in India is attributed to the
fact that Hinduism with its revolting customs and bloody sacrifices
has supplanted Buddhism in that country.
Putting these two together he confidently asserts that the only
effectual remedy for the plague in India is the restoration of
Buddhism as the national religion.
Mortality among infants is very high. This is remarkable when one
considers the faithfulness of the mother in attending to its wants,
starting it on honey and water in place of its natural food; and
afterwards supplementing its natural food by stuffing little wads
of boiled rice into its mouth while it is yet but a few weeks old.
Moreover, special precautions are taken against the departure of the
little one's "butterfly-spirit." That which the Christian calls the
soul, the Burman calls the sense of _knowing_, and is personified
as the "butterfly-spirit." When the body dies the butterfly-spirit
also dies. When a mother dies leaving an infant behind, immediate
precautions must be taken to prevent the child's butterfly-spirit
from going off with the mother's. Incantations are resorted to, and
they distractedly appeal to the dead mother not to take away the
butterfly-spirit of the babe.
Then a ceremony is performed with a tuft of fluffy cotton to imitate
the return of the spirit to the body of the child, who is blinking
in blissful unconsciousness of the awful crisis through which it is
passing. During one's sleep the butterfly-spirit may go wandering
about by itself, hence the peculiar experiences in dreams. The
temporary absence of the butterfly-spirit does no harm, unless
perchance it gets lost in the jungle, or badly frightened, it rushes
back so tumultuous as to cause a shock to its owner. Another danger is
that the person may be roused from sleep while the butterfly-spirit
is off on a picnic, in which case he would at least be sick until
the spirit returns. A sleeping man must not be disturbed, however
imperative the summons.
I was once the victim of over solicitude on my behalf. Travelling to
Rangoon by night-train, with a Burman as a companion I fell asleep.
The Burman knew that I was very anxious to reach my destination on
time.
He also knew that while I was asleep our train was delayed, and that
an opportunity offered for a transfer to the mail-train which had the
right-of-way. But that fellow, educated and Christian that he was, had
not outgrown the feeling that a sleeper must not be roused, and so
let the chance slip by. An important business engagement was missed,
to say nothing of subsisting on one ear of boiled corn until twelve
o'clock the next day. Much more might be said to show that there is
a large field, and an urgent demand for medical missions. I am fully
persuaded that, given a medical missionary with an "evangelistic
temperament," which means a "passion for souls," no other missionary
agency can be compared with medical missions. Especially is this
true of work among Burman and Shan Buddhists. The value of the work
depends largely on the man himself.
If he cannot or does not win the people to himself he never will win
them to Christ. The spiritual work will suffer in proportion as he
allows himself to become absorbed in the purely medical or scientific
side of his work, leaving the evangelistic work to the native helpers.
The doctor has rare opportunities for personal influence in his
dispensary and in heathen homes. It is to be greatly regretted that
at the present time there is not one medical missionary in the whole
country assigned to Burman Buddhists, who comprise about four-fifths
of the population. All of the Shan mission stations have medical
missionaries, and the success of their work testifies to the soundness
of the policy, though this policy was due primarily to the need of
such protection for the missionary family in these frontier stations.
The medical missionary has a double hold on the people. The dispensary
brings them to him, and his outside practice takes him to their homes,
and that by invitation. In both respects he has an advantage over the
clerical missionary. Moreover, as medical treatment is the ostensible
object in their case, anti-Christian opposition is not prematurely
excited. Frequent visits of the clerical missionary to a heathen
home, brands that home as leaning towards Christianity. The one, by
relieving suffering, removes prejudice, although he may at the same
time proclaim Christ as faithfully as the other who, by making that
his sole errand, unavoidably excites prejudice. If as the result of a
man's ministrations the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, and
fevers are banished, he is forgiven for being a Christian, and others
are forgiven for consorting with him.
All governments and religions recognize the fact that to elevate a
people the beginning must be made with the children. It is too late
now to "begin with the child's grandfather." Missionaries do not
confound education with evangelization, but they do recognize its
great value in the evangelizing process. Ideally, evangelization
should come first, and education afterwards to meet the consequent
demand. This is usually the method followed, to the extent of the
evangelizing force available. The missionary to Burmans is shut up
to a choice between losing the children of Christian parents to the
government, Roman Catholic and S. P. G. schools; and establishing an
anglo-vernacular school of his own, in connecting with the Education
Department of government. It has come to pass that every school for
the Burmese in the towns, _must_ have government registration, and
must teach English. Every boy, whether from a Christian or heathen
home, is bound to have the certificates which only registered schools
can give, and is bound to have an English education. If the missionary
does not provide the opportunity the male children of his Christian
community will go where they can get it. The Education Department
holds annual promotion-examinations. Certificates are given to all
who complete the course. These certificates are the condition of
securing employment in government clerkships, mercantile houses, and
in all schools connected with the Education Department. The boy who
picks up his education in a vernacular school, or a non-registered
school, however proficient he may become, stands no chance in the
race. So much for the point of view from the native side. It is also
a generally recognized fact that non-Christian races never will be
evangelized by the missionary alone. The great work of the missionary
is to train up a native evangelizing agency through which he can
multiply himself, perpetuate himself, and establish a self-sustaining
work, that will go on when he shall have been compelled to lay it down.
Time was when a middle-aged convert from a jungle village, with no
education beyond the ability to stumble through a chapter in his Bible
could do fairly effective service. Such men are still helpful outside
of the towns, if helped by the missionary to a better understanding
of their message. Evangelists of such limited training are far from
ideal, even for jungle tours. In the towns their influence is very
slight.
How shall a stronger force be provided? Only through the mission
schools,--there is no other way. It may be said that the missionary
is not called upon to educate clerks for government. It is also true
that he is not called upon, by his Master, to decide beforehand what
boys in his mission shall be educated for the ministry. Much of a
boy's training must be given before he himself is sufficiently mature
to comprehend a divine "call" to the ministry. If no place is given
for such a call, the native ministry will be filled with men who would
do better service in the rice-fields. Rice would be their main object
in the ministry. Moreover, the preliminary training cannot even be
deferred until the boy is converted. The vocation of the preacher is
not hereditary, like that of the various castes in India. The son
of a dacoit may be converted during his school life, and become a
preacher. The son of a preacher may become a dacoit, or at least never
feel called to the Christian ministry. The mission school cannot even
be limited to children of Christian families. Opening the doors to
all classes willing to pay for the advantages of the school greatly
reduces its cost to the mission.
Increase of numbers does not involve increase in the number of
classes or teachers. Much of the expense is thereby placed where
it belongs,--upon the people themselves. Opening the doors to all
classes furnishes the grandest field for evangelistic work within the
missionary's sphere of influence. Every day in the week Christian
influences are brought to bear upon the same individuals; Christian
truths are inculcated; the creeds of false religions forestalled
in youthful minds; prejudice against Christianity dispelled, and
either during school life, or when the pupils are free to break
from the control of heathen parents many converts are gained. From
these converts, as well as from children of Christian parents, come
accessions to the mission force of teachers and evangelists. Paul was
"laid hold on by Christ Jesus" for special service while he was yet
as intense a hater of Christianity as can be found in Buddhist Burma.
From among the unconverted children now in mission schools some,
already chosen in the foreknowledge of God, will be "laid hold on" to
be Gospel preachers to the rising generation.
From the early days of Buddhism in Burma, even before the language
was reduced to writing there were monastic schools for the purpose of
teaching boys the doctrines of the new religion. When the language was
reduced to writing, all boys were compelled to attend the monastic
school to learn to read and write, in addition to the memorizing of
portions of the sacred books. This is still the custom, where no
English schools are provided. With the advent of the English school
compulsory attendance at the monastery is continued for religious
purposes only, and may be limited to the brief period required by the
novitiate ceremony, through which every boy must pass. This may extend
to three months, or be cut short at the end of a week, according to
the zeal of the parents, or the anxiety to get the boy back into the
English school so that he may not lose his promotion examination.
Let a boy spend a year in the monastery, and you have a full-fledged
Buddhist to deal with. Take the same boy into the mission school at
the age of five or six, even earlier where there is a kindergarten
department, and you have a child who is no more a Buddhist than
your own little ones. Buddhism is not hereditary, it is the result
of training and environment. Forestall that training by taking the
children into the Christian school, and there train them in the
blessed doctrines of Christianity. For the poisonous environment of
the heathen home and community, substitute the Christian influences
of life in the mission school. For this purpose the boarding-school,
in which the pupils are required to live, and be under Christian
influences and safeguards day and night is worth vastly more than the
day-school, which holds the pupils only during school hours, allowing
them to return at night to their heathen homes.
But the existence of the mission day-school, with its staff of native
Christian teachers, and its daily Bible-study is amply justified by
results. The pupils thus kept away from the monastic school are not
being indoctrinated in Buddhism; they are being indoctrinated in
Christianity. Few children in Christian lands receive a like amount
of Bible teaching. I venture to say that there are day-schools in
Burma, made up largely of children from heathen homes, that could
successfully compete with the average Sunday-school in America in
answering questions on the Bible. Heathen parents of pupils in the
day-school have complained that their children have already renounced
Buddhist worship and customs, and openly preach Christ to their own
parents. Whether these pupils are gathered into the Christian fold or
not, a few years hence they will be rearing families of their own. The
next generation, born of pupils now in mission schools, will not be
taught to hate everything in any way connected with the "Jesus Christ
religion," as these pupils have been. Even the day-school is one of
the stepping-stones heavenward for these benighted people.
[Illustration: PINEAPPLES AND JACKFRUIT]
The Karen village school-teacher, besides his regular work in the
school, brings his influence to bear on the parents as well, with
the result that in many instances the entire village is won to
Christianity. Some of these teachers are marvels of consecration.
Poorly fed, poorly clothed, often with no other pay than their meagre
fare, far from home and friends,--they are worthy a place among the
heroes of our time.
Scores of these schools are now in operation. Their value as an
evangelizing agency can hardly be estimated. Many of these teachers
are young men, just out of the training-school in town. Following the
example of the missionaries under whom they have been trained, and
catching something of their spirit, these young men have themselves
become missionaries. If in Christian villages without settled pastors,
not only the children in the school, but men and women of all ages
become their pupils, recognizing the young teachers' superior
training, and willingly sitting at their feet, both in their homes
and at the regular worship in the village chapel. If in non-Christian
villages the teacher, by his school and such other influences as he
can bring to bear, excites an interest in Christianity, of which as
yet they know nothing.
They wanted a school because they had noticed, or had it impressed
upon them by the missionary, that other villages were benefited by
having schools. The missionary seizing the opportunity, inserts this
entering wedge, with its Christian influences which they would not
accept from the regular evangelist. The net is cast, and it gathers of
every kind. Soon "the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence" and the
whole village would take it by force, only checked by the requirements
that they utterly abandon their spirit-worship, and turn unto the Lord
with all their hearts.
This requirement not only differentiates the Christian villages from
the heathen, but from the Roman Catholic villages as well, for the
latter are allowed to retain all their old customs and vices, adding
thereto the vices of their foreign teachers. Martin B. Anderson once
wrote to a friend--"The work of our eastern missions is vastly more
comprehensive than ordinary Christians suppose. It is nothing else
than the creation, among a heathen, semi-barbarous, and ignorant
population, of the most advanced type of Christian civilization.
This at least ought to be the ideal which we should have before our
minds, and for whose realization we should constantly labour. The
cultivation of the moral and religious nature of man should be carried
on simultaneously with the highest practical development of the
intellectual powers. Can such an education as our eastern converts
require be communicated to them through their vernacular languages?
My own impression is that it cannot. It (the English language) comes
to them freighted with all the intellectual accumulations of the
past. It brings to them the terminology of spiritual religion, of
the science of the mind, and the science of God. Their preachers and
teachers, and moral and political leaders must be trained in English,
or their education will be inadequate and narrow."
The foregoing pages describe some of the many methods employed by our
missionaries, who would "by all means ... save some."
IX
"WITH PERSECUTIONS"
Amarapura had been the capital of Burma forty years when, in 1823, a
great fire destroyed some of the royal buildings. Having decided that
Amarapura was an unlucky place the capital was restored to Ava.
Judson's first visit to the capital occurred at this time. The king
had requested him to open a mission at Ava, and offered land for the
purpose. Then a war cloud on the western coast arose to darken his
prospects. The British at Chittagong refused to deliver up certain
Burmans who had taken refuge there.
In 1824 the Burman king declared war. Several Englishmen who were then
at Ava, were seized and thrust into prison.
Judson and his associate, Dr. Price, suspected of being in league with
the English, were also imprisoned.
The son of Bodawp'ra, known in history as Badawgyi, was then king.
The Burman kingdom, with the exception of Chittagong, was yet intact.
The haughty king imagined himself to be the most powerful monarch on
earth; and that his cities were impregnable, his armies invincible.
Unable to discriminate between Americans and Englishmen, the king
caused all white men to be thrown into prison together.