The Creed Chasm
"I have had to deal in the same afternoon's work,
on the one hand with men of keen powers of
intellect, whose subtle reasoning made one look to
the foundations of one's own faith; and on the
other hand with ignorant crowds, whose conception
of sin was that of a cubit measure, and to whom
the terms 'faith' and 'love' were as absolutely
unknown as though they had been born and bred in
some undeveloped race of Anthropoids."
_Rev. T. Walker, India._
IN writing about the Classes and the Masses of South India, one great
difference which does not exist at home should be explained. In England
a prince and a peasant may be divided by outward things--social
position, style of life, and the duty of life--but in all inward things
they may be one--one in faith, one in purpose, one in hope. The
difference which divides them is only accidental, external; and the
peasant, perhaps being in advance of the prince in these verities of
existence, may be regarded by the prince as nobler than himself: there
is no spiritual chasm between them. It is the same in the realm of
scholarship. All true Christians, however learned or however unlearned,
hold one and the same faith. But in India it is not so. The scholar
would smile at the faith of the simple villagers, he would even teach
them to believe that which he did not believe himself, holding that it
was more suitable for them, and he would marvel at your ignorance if
you confounded his creed with theirs; and yet in name both he and they
are Hindus.
Sir Monier Williams explains the existence of this difference by
describing the receptivity and all-comprehensiveness of Hinduism. "It
has something to offer which is suited to all minds, its very strength
lies in its infinite adaptability to the infinite diversity of human
characters and human tendencies. It has its highly spiritual and
abstract side, suited to the metaphysical philosopher; its practical and
concrete side, suited to the man of affairs and the man of the world;
its æsthetic and ceremonial side, suited to the man of poetic feeling
and imagination; its quiescent and contemplative side, suited to the man
of peace and lover of seclusion. Nay, it holds out the right hand of
brotherhood to nature worshippers, demon worshippers, animal
worshippers, tree worshippers, fetich worshippers. It does not scruple
to permit the most grotesque forms of idolatry and the most degrading
varieties of superstition, and it is to this latter fact that yet
another remarkable peculiarity of Hinduism is mainly due--_namely, that
in no other System of the world is the chasm more vast which separates
the religion of the higher, cultured, and thoughtful Classes, from that
of the lower, uncultured, and unthinking Masses_."
Naturally, therefore, work among them is different; one almost needs a
different vocabulary for each, and certainly one needs a different set
of ideas. I remember how, in one afternoon's work, we saw the two types
most perfectly. In thinking of it, it is as if one saw again the quiet
face of the old scholar against a background of confusion, the clear
calm features carved as in ivory, and set with a light upon it; chaotic
darkness behind. We were visiting his wife, when he came out from the
inner room, and asked if he might talk with us. Usually to such a
question I say no; we have come to the women, who are far the more
needy, the men can easily hear if they will. But he was such an old man,
I felt I could not refuse; so he began to tell me what he held as truth,
which was, in brief, that there are two sets of attachment, one outer,
one inner; that deliverance from these, and from Self, the Ego, which
regards itself as the doer, constitutes Holiness; that is, that one must
be completely disentangled and completely self-less. This attained, the
next is Bliss, which is progressive. First comes existence in the same
place as God. Second, nearness to God. Third, likeness to God. Fourth,
identity with God. Then he quoted from a classic beloved by all the old
Tamil school, stanza after stanza, to prove the truth of the above,
ending with one which Dr. Pope has thus translated--
"_Cling thou to that which He to Whom nought clings hath bid thee
cling,
Cling to that bond, to get thee free from every clinging thing._"
He knew Sanscrit, and read me strange-sounding passages from a huge
ancient book, and then, in return for a booklet, he gave me one of Mrs.
Besant's translations from the _Bhagavad Gita_.
The talk ended in my quoting what he could not deny was the true
heart-cry of one of his greatest poets. "I know nothing! nothing! I am
in darkness! Lord, is there no light for me?" And another, from the
poem he had quoted, which asks the question, "What is the use of
knowledge, mere knowledge, if one does not draw near to the All-knowing,
All-pure One?" And this led into what he would not listen to at first, a
little reading from the Book of books, before whose light even these
wonderful books pale as tapers in clear sunshine. The marvel of our
Bible never shows more marvellous than at such times, when you see it in
deed and in truth the Sword of the Spirit, and it _cuts_.
The old man asked me to come again, and I did, as the Iyer was away. He
often got out of my depth, and I longed to know more; but I always found
the Bible had the very word he needed, if he would only take it. So far
as I know, he did not, and I left him--to quote his own words, though
not spoken of himself, alas!--"bewildered by numerous thoughts, meshed
in the web of delusion."
As we left our old scholar, we came upon a thing wholly foolish and
brainless, animalism in force. It was the difference between the Classes
and the Masses once for all painted in glare. A huge procession was
tearing along the streets and roads, with all the usual uproar. They
stopped when they got to a big thorn bush, and then danced round it,
carrying their idols raised on platforms, and borne by two or three
dozen to each. We passed, singing as hard as ever we could "Victory to
Jesus' Name! Victory!" and when we got rather out of the stream,
stopped, and sang most vigorously, till quite a little crowd gathered,
and we had a chance to witness.
It was dark, and the flaming torches lit up the wildest, most barbaric
bit of heathenism I have seen for a long time. The great black moving
mass seemed like some hellish sea which had burst its bounds, and the
hundreds of red-fire torches moving up and down upon it like lights in
infernal fishermen's boats, luring lost souls to their doom.
As we waited and spoke to those who would hear, a sudden rush from the
centre of things warned us to go; but before we could get out of the
way, a rough lad with a thorn-branch torch stuck it right into the
bandy, and all but set fire to us. He ran on with a laugh, and another
followed with an idol, a hideous creature, red and white, which he also
pushed in upon us. Our bullocks trotted as fast as they could, and we
soon got out of it all, and looking back saw the great square of the
devil temple blazing with torches and firebrands, and heard the
drummings and clangings and yells which announced the arrival of the
procession.
All that night the riotous drumming continued, and, as one lay awake and
listened, one pictured the old scholar sitting in the cool night air on
his verandah, reading his ancient palm-leaf books by the light of the
little lamp in the niche of his cottage wall.