India Journal - A very brief intro to caste

One of the primary things we went to India to learn about was the caste system, and how to overcome it. It’s difficult to convey to Westerners just how pervasive the caste system is there, and how difficult it is to overcome it. The closest comparison for people in North America is racism . . . except that with caste, it’s racism on major steroids, and it’s much more random, given that you don’t know someone’s caste just by looking at them. You have to learn family names, regions, etc. before being able to label someone.

We met lots of folks from a variety of caste backgrounds. As is typically the case, the people who have the power and privilege will usually downplay the extensiveness of the problem, and live their lives as though the problem doesn’t exist. But you don’t have to scratch very far below the surface to see things amiss. People say “Oh, no, I don’t believe in caste,” but if you ask them if they would ever consider marrying outside of their caste, or how many low-caste homes they’ve spent time in, or how they feel about the reservation system (which is the Indian equivalent to affirmative action), you’ll get a very different response. I met at least three people who had been completely cut off from their families for having married outside of their caste.

There are castes for everything - street sweepers, farmers, cobblers, rodent hunters, cadaver removers, everything. The picture here is a typical street sweeper.

The so-called “untouchables,” or Dalits, are actually considered outside of the caste system . . . because you have to actually be human in order to be in the caste system. Dalits are considered “talking animals,” and therefore, on the outside. As it turns out, this actually gives them some advantages (if you could call them advantages) over low caste people - because the low caste people are actually locked in. These low castes are known officially in India by the term OBCs. What does OBC stand for? “Other Backward Castes.” That’s right.

The degree to which caste has captured the identity of people is staggering. Dalits and OBCs don’t even conceive that they’re living under oppression. They’ve been well trained to accept their fate (actually, their karma) and hope for a better go ’round in their next lives. Meanwhile the upper caste people (a mere ten to twelve percent of the population in India) go through life happily oblivious, often denying the reality that their comfort costs others dearly.

Lest I come across as judgmental, allow me to out myself. I will freely admit that I would have described American racism in much softer terms prior to Hurricane Katrina than after. Why? Because I’m a white, middle class, male - I don’t have to think about being a power holder if I don’t want to. Katrina woke me up to a different reality than I would have believed before. Again, racism in the West is a far cry from caste, but that’s all I’ve got for now.

Oh, and for the sake of clarity, it’s also important to note that caste is so pervasive that it transcends Hinduism. Sadly, caste is alive and well in Muslim, Sikh, and yes, Christian communities.

I’ll write another time about a very small thing we did that demonstrated how locked into the caste mentality the Dalits and OBCs are.

The Eleventh Commandment

Hugh MacLeod

India Journal: So this is what it feels like . . .

Toward the end of our India adventure, we made the obligatory trip to see the Taj Mahal in Agra.  Before we arrived there, some friends of ours in Delhi had been kind enough to arrange for a hotel and transportation while we were there.  This was certainly helpful, as our train didn’t arrive in Agra until after 2am.  When we got up in the morning, and met up with our driver, we discovered that we also had a tour guide for the day.  Wow, o.k.  So we drove to the Taj Mahal, got the tour, pushing litres of sweat through our pores in the heat and humidity.  The Taj Mahal costs 250 rupees (there are about 42 rupees to the U.S. Dollar) per person to get in . . . for Indians.  All others pay 750 rupees.  I will say this, though - the place is extraordinary.  Quite an impressive piece of art, well deserving of the accolades.

We then walked back to our vehicle, and the driver took us straight to a marble emporium, to show us some local craftsmanship.  It was beautiful stuff - very intricate.  And expensive.  Unusually so.  Like, $100 for a set of coffee table coasters.

We then went back to our vehicle, and they drove us to a restaurant - of their choice, not ours.  It was an Indian restaurant.  By this time, we had been in India for nearly two weeks, and were very familiar with the food, as well as what a normal pricing structure should be.  Yeah, this place had an Indian menu, but American pricing.  By the time we had finished our meal, we had noticed that we had seen almost all of the other diners at this place as we were walking around the Taj Mahal.  All were white Westerners.  And, oh, by the way, this restaurant was well off the beaten path - it wasn’t any coincidence that we all ended up there for lunch.

We figured out pretty quickly that this was a racket.  Our tour guide and/or driver were getting kick backs from all the places they were taking us.  They weren’t asking us what we wanted to see or do - they were taking us to their favored places.  It was only when we got pretty demanding about where WE wanted to go that they relented.

The locals knew that they had a power position, exclusive language, and an ignorant group of people that they could exploit.  We were able to see through this, only because we had spent two weeks with actual Indian people, not being tourists, but learning from the culture.

That feeling of being the targets of exploitation was very telling.  Normally, the rich, white Westerners are the ones getting over on others.  We’re not supposed to be the losers.  We’re supposed to be the ones with power.  That’s just the way it is. 

A very brief moment of realization.  I wish this moment on all my rich, white, Westerner friends.

A Most Unfortunate American Export

I took the following picture in a bookstore in Taipei, Taiwan last week.  Is this really necessary?

India Journal - a contextual approach to communion

Three weeks ago today, we were able to participate in a worship gathering called Satsung, with Truthseekers at their office in Delhi.  There were 35 or 40 people there - most of whom were seated in a circle on the floor.  Several worship songs were sung together, but they weren’t of a normal worship variety.  The musical style and language, were, of course, foreign to us Americans, but these songs also would be foreign to even most Christians in India.  Truthseekers has taken a number of well known Bollywood songs and used them as their own - most without even changing the lyrics.  When Sunil translated some of the lyrics for us, it was stunning to hear how very worshipful these songs really were - in a monotheistic sense.  It was quite surprising to hear these things, coming out of a Hindu culture.

An open time was made available for people to share how God is at work in their lives.  A few people talked about how God is working through family relationships - including some who were experiencing real strain, because of decisions to follow Baliraja and reject caste.  At one point, an older gentleman spoke for several minutes, about how much he loves and respects Jesus . . . and how much he loves and respects the Buddha.  Now, in just about any U.S. church, and the vast majority of Indian churches, this guy would have been hushed or corrected, but at Truthseekers, nobody jumped on his case.  He was understood to be in a process toward following Jesus completely - it wasn’t long ago that he didn’t pay Jesus the time of day, so this was progress for him.

The gathering culminated in a time of communion.  Pretty standard stuff, really.  Reading from scripture, talk about the sacrifice of Baliraja.  Passing of elements.

But it was the elements themselves that were distinctive.  In Hindu culture and religion, the gods demand sacrifice for the forgiveness of sins.  A typical sin offering is a coconut, presented to a Brahman priest at a temple.  The priest takes the coconut and smashes it.  As a means of embodying the gospel in that culture, at Truthseekers, the central symbol used for the Lord’s Supper is also a coconut.  The scriptural narrative about the broken body and spilled blood is used as a whole coconut is held high.  “This is my body, broken for you” - and with that, a hammer falls, crushing the coconut into pieces.  The flesh becomes the bread, and the juice becomes the wine.  Together, they become the body and blood of our sacrificed King.

The symbol of slavery in that culture has become a symbol of liberation.  I still feel the goose bumps from the jarring blast of the hammer.  My eyes well up to remember the horrible beauty of Christ’s gift, and the way it transcends culture, and redeems it.  That moment will stay with my soul for a long, long time.

India Journal - How I spent my Independence Day

Upon scheduling the dates for our trip, I realized with a little bit of amusement that we would be in India on the 4th of July.  The amusement came from realizing that I would be relieved from the inner turmoil I always experience at this time of year.  Long time readers of this blog will know that I’m pretty ambivalent (that’s probably too generous a word) when it comes to matters of patriotism.  I don’t salute the flag, my eyes don’t fill with tears when Lee Greenwood’s “Proud to be an American” or Neil Diamond’s “Coming to America” play.  I don’t really like the tone of “God Bless America.”  I do realize that the freedoms I enjoy have come at a great cost to many who have served in the military and politics and local law enforcement and protection agencies.  I am not ungrateful for that.  It’s just that I’ve taken a firm grasp of where my true citizenship lies, and my American citizenship is a very distant second to me by comparison.  I willingly pay my taxes and am thankful for the privileges I enjoy as a U.S. citizen.  But things like fireworks and patriotic songs and the waving of flags (especially when done inside churches) do produce a tension for me.  I’ve made friends with that tension.

So there we were, in India.  And someone told us about the Independence Day celebration that takes place every year at the U.S. Embassy.  At least two of my three fellow travelers got quite excited about this, and plans were made.  So on July 5th (more than two weeks after we had arrived in the country), I was in Delhi, hearing Lee Greenwood and Neil Diamond songs, eating a beef hamburger (which is pretty hard to come by there), and listening to everyone around me speak English about where they’re from and why they’re in India.  There was a fireworks show (which I imagined must have been a little random for the residents of Delhi to see).  Ironically, none of the beer they were serving was American (they had Indian, European, and Mexican varieties to choose from).

It was a little surreal.  I found myself in a place where I could have completely escaped my national identity, but instead I did perhaps the most patriotic possible in that circumstance.  Very odd indeed.  My tension was still there, to be sure, but I did enjoy myself - meeting people from all over the U.S., and hearing their stories of why they’re in country. It was a new kind of test for me, and one that may have softened some of the harder edges of my crankiness about these things.  I’m actually glad I went - it was probably my most unique Independence Day ever.  Ironically amusing.  Some of my friends should now feel free to make fun of me.

India Journal - a little intro

Before I start telling tales about our time in India, I thought it might be helpful to frame things up a little as to what we were doing there in the first place.  From long before we began the planning for this trip, I was insistent that this wasn’t to be a mission trip.  I’m not necessarily opposed to mission trips per se, but I think they’re often problematic.  We did not seek to be the wealthy, powerful, impressive people from USAmerica to come in and save the day.  Instead, we were there to learn - it was a culture project, not a mission trip. 

We were there primarily to learn from and work with Truthseekers International, which is a growing movement of Indians who follow the teachings of Baliraja - the sacrificed King . . . someone we would refer to as Jesus Christ.  It is a diverse movement, which actually involves Muslims, Buddhists, and other monotheists.  It is led by Sunil Sardar, who is a social spiritual activist.  He’s planted over 400 churches throughout India, and been a real catalyst for change, especially in the caste system, which is still pervasive there.  Sunil and his wife, Pam, have sacrificed and struggled and suffered for their work.

We had the honor of actually staying at the Sardar’s home for the time that we were in Delhi - which was the majority of our trip.  We also got to spend a lot of time with Steve and Robin Smith, who are part of the Truthseekers team.  They set up our schedule and accommodations, and oriented to the culture of India.  We had lots of learning experiences, which I’ll write about, and then some traveling time in central India, participating in some seminars and programs with people there.  Everywhere we went, people served and loved and welcomed us. 

One other element of note for some of you who may be curious.  A while back, I had mentioned here that one of the things we would be doing in India would be a solidarity march, in order to bring attention to the plight of many thousands of farmers, who are so racked with debt and social pressures from the upper castes that they are committing suicide by the hundreds and thousands every year.  The march was set to be 100K (or about 62 miles) through farming villages.  As it turned out, some of the details of that project did not work out, and we did not do the march.  While we know that would have been a really amazing (and brutal, no doubt) journey for us, we were still blessed to be able to spend some time in the farming villages, and talk with the people there.  I’ll talk more about that later.

We learned so much about caste, gender bias, the history (good and bad) of Christian missionary efforts in India, politics, poverty, nationalism, hope, persistence, comfort, contextualization, and life in general.  I’ll blog about these things in the days ahead (jetlag permitting!).

Back from India

Three weeks ago today, I and three of my friends/ministry partners from The Purple Door got on a China Airlines plane, and flew out to India.  Any regular reader of this blog was probably able to tell why things have been dark around here for the past few weeks.  I’ve mentioned the India trip quite a bit, but Michelle and I have an agreement that I won’t blog about being gone when I’m gone.  So I blog about these things after I return.

It was really quite an amazing three weeks.  Unpacking the luggage is a piece of cake when compared to unpacking the dozens of memories of people, of the cities, train rides, villages, meetings, and events.  I’m not sure exactly how to approach blogging this stuff.  I’d hate to bore anyone out there with an hour by hour recounting of things.

Instead, I’ll probably take the next couple of weeks to just write small snapshot stories about some of our experiences.  Hopefully that will feel less overwhelming for me, and you, dear reader.  For now, I’ve got my work cut out for me, just sorting and catching up on e-mail and tons of work.  I’m quite glad to be home, though, and to see my wife.  Three weeks felt like a looooooong time away from her, even with some regular e-mail, IM chats, and a few phone calls.

On Spontaneity and Improvisation

I have a young friend, a student that lives at The Purple Door.  This person, by admission, dislikes the unplanned life.  As little spontaneity as possible is the rule.  Instead, there are lists - lists about everything.  Lists of schedules, meals, books to read, graduate schools to consider, everything.  This student once told me about the process of selecting which college to go to - it involved something like 200 schools, and an extremely intricate matrix of decision making, which ultimately narrowed the decision down to one.  As it turns out, for all that planning and listing, the school selected was the wrong one for this person, and after one year, the student made the choice to transfer to UW . . . which actually wasn’t even on the original list of 200!

Now, I’m not Mr. Spontaneous or anything, but I do like to mix it up once in a while, just to keep things in life fresh.  Living a totally unplanned life would be chaotic, both for me, and all the people around me.  I know I already create stress for some people that have to live and work with me by my “make it up as I go along” mentality.  But I actually do intentionally live into that rhythm.  It’s that hard to define space between spontaneity and improvisation. 

I think you can plan to be spontaneous, but improvisation is just a part of life.  You can plan with a friend ahead of time to go out for dinner, without deciding where to eat until you’re together, and then just pick what sounds good to you in the moment - that hints at spontaneity.  You can cook dinner for some friends, but run out of a key ingredient, and have to either change the recipe or change the dish altogether - that hints at improvisation.  Like I said, improv is part of life . . . but it’s only part of life.  If it’s too large a part of life, you get true chaos.  It’s that whole biblical thing - “where there is no vision, the people perish.”

The past 48 hours have included some very frustrating time for me, because I hadn’t planned for as much improvisation as my circumstances have called for.  It’s already extremely busy around here, and I really didn’t need to deal with added stress - especially of the relatively petty kind I’ve gotten.  But that’s improv for ya - you don’t always get to choose when you’ll be improvising.

I don’t actually know the defined differences between spontaneity and improvisation.  I’m not gonna go look it up in a dictionary.  I’ve just been musing here.  In order to illustrate, I’ve seen the following video floating around the internet for the past several weeks.  What do you think - is this spontaneous, improvisational, neither, or both? 

You know you’re not blogging enough when . . .

I guess it’s a nice sign that a certain someone actually reads my blog.  Michelle - the one everyone keeps congratulating me for marrying up with - noticed my lack of posting here lately.

So this one’s for her:

Really, it is.  That horse is for Michelle.  Just put a check in the mail yesterday.  Our latest addition is a 2 year old, named Darjeeling, or “Ling,” as Michelle likes to call her.  This is an exciting first step for us to get Michelle moving toward her hopeful career as a full time horse trainer.  It’ll be close to another full year before Michelle can put any serious training in, but the plan is to get Ling into shape as a high quality dressage horse.  For now, we just have to figure out how to move a horse from Florida, where she lives now, to Michelle’s folks’ place in SoCal, where Ling will call home for the time being.  I’m definitely stoked for Michelle.  She’s worked very hard for a long, long time to make some real money so I can take lower pay in ministry positions, and go to school.  Now we get to move toward having her chase her dreams for a while.  Good stuff.