Re-reading Tribal and Dalit Conversion Movements: The Case of the Malayarayans and Pulayas of Kerala

Studies on Christian conversion movements in India have produced some excellent monographs and articles. However, almost all these emphasise the sociological aspects of conversion and largely ignore religious (belief) dimensions.1

Re-reading of the dalit and tribal mass movements needs to recapture pre-existing belief which intermingled with Christian ideas. Historians cannot presume a smooth transition when dalits and tribals left behind time-honoured world-views, and embraced a new faith.

Theories on the role of ideas in African conversions advanced by a well-known anthropologist, Robin Horton, may be of some interest in this discussion.2

According to Horton, pre-existent world-views played a vital role in African conversion. Africans, who were living in a period of rapid social change gradually came to feel that their traditional world-view was no longer adequate as a method of "explanation, prediction and control." They were, therefore, predisposed towards evolving or devising a more satisfactory cosmology, and this they discovered in Islam and Christianity-options present in the African situation. Though experienced as increasingly inadequate, traditional cosmology nevertheless continued to play a part in the conversion process. For Horton, the African cosmology has a two-tier structure: lesser spirits concerned with events in the microcosm and the Supreme Being concerned with events in the macrocosm. As social relationships and boundaries are redefined due to social change, less attention is paid to lesser spirits, and the Supreme Being takes over as dominant reality which helps the converts to understand, predict and control events.

Horton’s theory lays stress on pre-conversion cosmology and the intellectual and emotional process involved in any conversion. His argument is a timely reminder that scholars should not only be aware of the dangers regarding conversion as a purely social phenomenon, but should also take into account the possibility that, in certain circumstances, cosmology facilitates the process.

Malayarayans

Malayarayan tribal people were known by several names such as Mulla Vellens, Mulla Nairs, Hill Arrians and Malayarayans. While Hill Arrian was used by all Anglican sources, the Government of Travancore and ethnographers like Thurston used the name Malayarayan which means the Arayan of the hills to distinguish them from the fishing community on the Kerala coasts, the Arayans.

Malayarayans lived in the interiors of Western Ghats which form the Eastern border of Kerala state. Malayarayan territories belonged to Poonjar or Puniyat Rajas (descendants of Manuikrama Kulasekhara Perumal) who became vassels of Travancore kings during the conquest of Marthanda Varma in 1749-50.

Ethnographic descriptions and anthropological observations of the 19th century highlighted the fact that Malayarayans were different from other hill tribes of Travancore on many counts.3 The Travancore Census Report (1901) describes Malayarayans as "a class of hill tribes, who are little more civilised than the Mannans, and have fixed abodes in the slopes of high mountain ranges. Their villages are fine-looking , with trees and palms all around. They are superior in appearance to most other hill tribes, but are generally short in stature. Some of the Arayans are rich, and own large plots of cultivated grounds. They seldom work for hire, or carry loads."4

Stretches of land were cultivated with paddy, rice and fruit trees indicating a self-sufficient Malayarayan economy. Although they lived in comparative isolation, a part of farm and other forest produce like wax, honey and dried meat of animals was marketed for cash through Muslim traders.5 Many of their houses were good substantial erections of wood and stone," although a majority preferred to live in temporary huts of mud and bamboos as the "survivors often dislike living in a dwelling in which the head of the family has died."6

This Malayalam speaking tribe had definite position in the Travancore social hierarchy and were "considered to rank in caste above all mechanics, and equal to Muhamadans and Jews." Sudras did not perceive pollution while in contact with Malayarayans.7 Significantly they themselves claimed superiority over other tribes by "styling themselves as Karingal Brahmins."8

Despite their comparative economic independence, the reality of socio-economic exploitation threatened them. This was mainly due to the fact that Malayarayans cultivated lands traditionally owned by Brahmin zamindars. Rent and taxes levied on them were heavy. They were forced to pay not only head tax (Thalakram) but also breast tax (Mulakaram). Brahmins and their Nair supervisors, although living far away from the territory of Malayarayan tribes received, "trifling rents from the Arrians for their fruit-trees and cultivated land, and besides this, each headman had to furnish a certain quantity of honey for the raja’s birthday, dig a few elephant pits, and help, with bark ropes, to conduct the animals, when trapped, into the taming cages."9 Thus Malayarayans were victims of external exploitation and oppression.

Pre-existing Belief System

An effort of reconstructing the pre-existing belief system of Malayarayans takes the historian to the issue of the source itself. Ethnographers, social commentators and anthropologists who had commented on the Malayarayan religion of the 19th century were all heavily, in some cases entirely, dependant on missionary observations about the phenomenon.10 The natural and the dominant interest of missionaries’ narration was drawing a dark picture of the primitive tribal religion. According to them, Malayarayans were prepared to embrace the "true" and superior religion in Christianity. However, a redeeming feature of the descriptions is that missionaries such as H. Baker, Jr., and A. F. Painter, who were acquainted with the people and local language for several decades, had also an anthropological approach which makes a difference.

The missionary reports on Malayarayan beliefs and practices bring out the following salient points:

Primordiality

The belief system was of a world of spirits permeating all existence. Life and living, substance and surroundings were solely dependent upon the benevolence or malevolence of spirits. Missionary descriptions speak of "worship" of spirits and devils, "demolatory," "devil-dancing," etc.11 Whether worship or propitiation, it is evident that Malayarayans were seeking to control the ill-effects of spirits’ disfavour or preventing these spirits from taking complete control of their life.12 Access to powerful spirits was the key to the world of the supernatural.

Ravines, rocks, groves and hills held spirits and demons which wielded sway and awe over families or villages. "The religious services rendered to these are intended to deprecate anger rather than to seek benefits: but in no case is lust to be gratified, or wickedness practised, as pleasing to these deities," observed Baker, Jr. 13 Each village or hill had "devil-priests" and their role was significant in controlling or containing the impact of spirits. Small huts or "shrines" and sacred stones were considered as dwelling places of demons or genii. Baker, Jr., wrote in the 1850s "(We) went over rocks and ravines to some spots where the genii were supposed to reside. At one place there was a fragment of granite well oiled, and surrounded by a great number of extinguished torches: This easily broke into fragments. Another stone I found difficult to move" … 14

Ancestral spirits had a prominent role in the belief system. Many ancient tumuli and graves of chiefs were evident in the hills. Fragments of pottery, brass figures, iron weapons, obviously remains of offerings made, were present near these places. Arrack and sweetmeats were offered to the departed spirits. Lamps were lit at the graves of ancestors. Miniature cromlechs of small stone slabs marked the grave with a granite piece to represent the deceased. "To this day," Mateer observed,

"the Arayans make similar little cells of pieces of stone, the whole forming a box of few inches square; and on the death of a member of any family, the spirit is supposed to pass, as the body is being buried, into a brass or silver image, which is shut into this vault; if the parties are very poor, an oblong smooth stone suffices. A few offerings of milk, rice, toddy and ghee are made, a torch lighted and extinguished, the figure placed inside the cell and the covering stone hastily placed on; then all leave … the spirit is thus supposed to be enclosed; no one ventures to touch the cell at any other time."15

The spirits of the ones who had violent deaths were believed to have special powers over the living ones.

The welfare of the individual and the community, prosperity and growth, peril and calamity, disease and progress were all integrally related to the spirits of the deceased. Ancestor "worship" and its principles kept up the social relations of the living world. They were more concerned about the ancestors within the reach of memory and, as time went on, new spirits were incorporated in the circle of worship. The living and the dead were held in one unit, sources of life and moral action. There was also a blend of affection and abuse of spirits held together in delicate balance.

Disease and epidemics particularly were seen as caused by spirits. "Devil-dancers" conducted ceremonies to appease them so that they could divert or prevent disasters. However, Malayarayans believed that spirits befriended certain people and they could possess supernatural powers and formulae for cure. Thus village devil-priests had great influence in Malayarayan society.

Inter-relatedness

The second, probably the most significant, feature of Malayarayan religion was that, many aspects of existence, agricultural activities, physical health, social well-being were blended with it. Nature and spirit, for instance, were not external to each other. As a result, religion and culture, society and ecology were held in unity. For example, they construed natural calamities as an expression of wrath of their ancestral spirits if they changed religion. In the same way environmental changes impacted upon their own world-view. Thus they thought about the failure of certain gods and decreasing control of certain spirits over occurrences.

Consequence to such an inter-related view of natural and supernatural, and social and religious spheres, any change in one area affected the other. As we shall see later, socio-political changes of the mid-nineteenth century appears to have affected their traditional attitude to pre-existing agencies of control. It may be that they were striving for more accessibility to newer ways of dealing with the changes and crises.

Sanskritzation

Malayarayan belief system, although filled with primeval concepts, did not have a static nature. In fact one of the features that came across during the mid-nineteenth century was the dynamic nature of their system of belief. Very evidently, Malayarayans were gradually assimilating some Sanskritic gods and goddesses such as Kali and Ayyappan. Definitely they were not regular features of their activity.16 New situations seem to make them to resort to effective ways of dealing with it. This is what Baker, Jr., observes about the place of Sanskritic gods and ceremonies in their pre-existing primeval system:

It has been observed, that in cases of sickness sometimes Arrians will make offerings to a Hindu god, and that they attend the great feasts occasionally; but in no case do they believe that they are under any obligation to do so, their own spirits being considered fully equal to Siva, or his fellow god, Krishna, the chief … 17

It is amply clear that Malayarayan religious ideas were not part of a secluded or static system. It was a system with potential to assimilate and to appropriate.

Continuity and Change

Malayarayans, geographically and socially secluded from the outside world, were not altogether free from outside influence as we have already seen. They were caught up in a web of exploitation by traders and rent collectors. However, it is clear from the missionary reports that except occasionally, they did not venture out of traditional territorial confines. Baker, Jr., during his first visit to them in 1849 reported that they had never seen a European, except surveyors who visited them several decades back.18 But during the mid-nineteenth century several traumatic changes seem to have affected them. These changes were a result of Travancore Government’s introduction of a modernising process.

Large stretches of land from the habitat of the Malayarayans were leased out to several European planters. This introduced in its train a host of other changes and crises in the life of Malayarayan tribes. Now that the land was open to outsiders the number of external interfernces were rapdily increasing during the second half of the 19th century. Tamil meerchants were moving through their territory. Travancore postal carriers passed through it daily.19 Large contracts for timber introduced wages, employment. The introduction of cash economy "had tended much to a craving after wealth, and neglect of other duties," among the converts, Baker, Jr., complained.20

The most obvious intrusion in their territory happened as a result of the opening up of the Kottayam-Madura Road. This road not only cut through the heart of Malayarayan land but brought a stream of planters, coolies and merchants. Mundakkayam, where Baker, Jr., started the work among them in 1848, was one of the first to be affected by this road. "This village is no longer the isolated spot it once was, the European planters having settled on the Peru Merde, a range of hills east of Mundakkayam, and there being in consequence the passing and repassing of many coolies and Government officials of various castes," wrote Baker, Jr., about the dramatic changes.21

Another most painful effect of changes were the terrible epidemics of cholera and fever. In 1860 the breakout of cholera in Mundakkayam alone wiped out many.

Encounter with Christianity

A chance meeting that took place between a group of Malayarayans and Baker, Jr., during one of his tours was what made Malayarayans to consider conversion to Christianity. After the first meeting, Malayarayan leaders met Baker five times requesting him to start work among them. However, Baker was unable to start work among them. Their persistence in the end paid off. He commenced the missionary work among them in 1848. This is how Baker, Jr., reported about the fifth visit of Malayarayans which moved him at last:

At length, ‘the heads’ of several ‘villages’ appeared at Pallam and remonstrated on account of my delay. "Five times," said they, "have we been to call you. You must know we know nothing right. Will you teach us, or not? We die like beasts and are buried like dogs! Ought you to neglect us?" "Cholera and fever," said another, "carried off such and such members of my family. Where are they now?" They stated that they wanted no pecuniary help, as they had plenty of rice. They wished to serve God and not to be oppressed by anyone. They offered to make over their lands as a proof of their sincerity, and waited about, determined to have me in their hills.22

Mid-nineteenth century changes and the crises those changes brought in seem to have affected their traditional systems of control. It appears that they were trying an entirely new and outside system to deal with dramatic consequences of change and failure of their traditional sources of power. In fact what strikes us in the conversation of headmen with Baker, Jr., is their request for (1) access to education, and (2) control of diseases. Missionary reports give several pieces of evidence for the fact that it was these two aspects which Malayarayans stressed in every instance when Christian work started in their villages. Missionaries’ new religious devices, Bible, baptism etc., were perceived by some of the Malayarayans as powerful guarantee against evil spirits. Epidemics particularly were occasions of large scale conversion to Christianity.

Content of Missionary Preaching

The missionaries’ preaching concentrated on several aspects; access to the powerful Book (The Bible), Christianity as a way to Heaven, the love of God, the need to give up the worship of Satan, the need to remove all symbols of ‘devil-worship,’ etc. In many cases Malayarayans were ready to be baptised as soon as the missionaries preached, indicating that either they were already prepared for a radical move or they were in contact with Christian relatives in other villages. Baker reports about the response to one of his six-day preaching tour: "The men of four villages wished at once to cut off their top-knots, and asked for baptism forthwith … I said that faith and patience were the life of Christ’s people, and that a profession of this nature could not be put on and off like clothing: they had better wait; … But they said, ‘You must destroy our devil-places, and teach us to pray to our Father, as you call Him, in Heaven, or some beginning must be made.’"23 It is evident that Malayarayans were determined to make the move, come what may, and try the new sources of power. It was in the face of severe opposition and systematic persecution unleashed by the Raja’s people that they were sharing this determination to affiliate themselves to Christianity.

What is the explanation for Malayarayan’s favourable response to missionary preaching? For finding an answer to this we may have to find the meaning behind the ‘language’ of the Malayarayans. We may have to make out how they have chosen to understand the message of missionaries. In fact, I would like to conclude that an analysis of the content of the missionary preaching may not give us very many clues to what Malayarayans chose to understand during conversion. The question that they raised during the dialogue with missionaries may give us more clues to the interaction of ideas that were taking place.

Questions Asked

Numerous questions raised by Malayarayans after missionary preachings clearly demonstrated that pre-existing theological categories, patterns of thinking related to spirits were not that easy to be removed from their minds. The continued influence of spirits and old gods, and the calamities that may occur were all vital issues for them. From Mankompu, an important Malayarayan conversion centre in the 1880s, Painter gave the following report about the intellectual struggle of the new converts:

How we recall the struggle so manifestly going on in their minds as one after another spoke; their great fear of the Poonyatt Rajah, that he might curse them and turn them from the lands on which their ancestors had lived for centuries; their fear of the wrath of the demons; their hesitation to forsake what they and their ancestors had held sacred for centuries. On every side were the signs of their worship; the little shrines and sacred stones where the demons were supposed to dwell; the little temple where was a black granite image of the Hindu goddess Kali with the ruby eyes, which they greatly feared, and before which they made offerings in time of trouble; the groves with the images of their ancestors. The fear of man and of all they regarded as sacred held them back. It was the most solemn time. We realised the importance to them and their children of their decision, and prayed earnestly for them.24

It was evident that the conversion move was made after deep and continued consideration of the implications related to their pre-existing system of belief. Questions related to the land, ancestors, their spirits, new Sanskritic gods were part and parcel of their considerations.

Furthermore, the issues raised consisted of theological categories, concepts and patterns of thinking from their pre-existing ways of understanding the supernatural and natural dimensions of their existence. Baker, Jr., who was very familiar with caste Hindu religious categories and queries during conversation, particularly recognised the distinct tribal theological concepts appearing in the Malayarayan questions which they asked. Baker, Jr., reported about one of the initial interactions between him and the prospective converts thus:

"Numberless, simple but very practical questions were asked by them, not in a cavilling spirit, like the Brahmins and Vedantists of the plains, but on the atonement, fall of man, sin, misery, future punishment, etc. They occasionally talked among themselves, some making objections, others proposing a trial of the regulations I proposed …" 25

Theological issues related to misery, disease and punishment, matters with which they were already familiar, seem to have taken primary place in their consideration. Even when missionaries talked about "God who made the whole world and all things, prospective converts’ questions were, "Would not the evil spirits persecute them? Would not their ancestors rise in vengeance against them if they forsook the old way?" A.F. Painter’s reply to such questions was: "if God be for us, who can be against us?" How far they were convinced about the new ideas initially, we do not know exactly.

Sources of Power

Mid-nineteenth century was a dangerous time for the Malayarayan tribe. Their system of belief, sickness and cure were under threat. Their movement to Christianity was a move towards sources of power; effective power which may help them to deal with crises of confidence in their traditions. Christianity in their perception offered access to education, continued protection to their land and above all, it appeared to help them to handle ancestral spirits (which were becoming less and less effective in dealing with rapid change).

Following features of their conversion confirm this:

In almost all cases of large scale conversion, missionaries had to demonstrate the superior power to control the supernatural beings by throwing away Malayarayan’s religious symbols such as granite stones and ancestral figures. Baker, Jr., and 27Painter were invited by converts to destroy places of their ancestor worship.26 At times they urged the missionaries to build churches in their traditonal groves. Some felt, "the demons will go for ever," if it was done.

  1. The decision of ‘devil-priests’ and village oracles to accept Christianity was crucial in the positive decision of others in the community. Converts wanted to make sure that their own priests made the move first. Larger numbers moved to Christianity in such places and villages at once.
  2. Outbreak of diseases and the consequent feeling of insecurity made many accept the new religion.

Movement To and Fro

It was natural for missionaries to glorify cases of converts who withstood any temptation to go back to their old ways. Reports of missionaries have details about such cases. Numerous cases of "relapses" also were reported. "Unsettled" inquirers sometimes "commenced rebuilding the idolatrous huts," or searched for sacred stones.28 Many converts went back to their traditional religious patterns. But eventually many returned.

By the 1890s, substantial majority of Malayarayans, numbering about 3000, had already moved over to Christianity. However, we should not forget that it was not a monolithic group of people who joined Christianity. Many moved between the old and the new belief systems. In many cases missionaries could not detect all those implicit or explicit movements of people’s minds.

Pulayas

Pulayas or Cheramar (Cherumas), the agricultural labour outcastes, and one of the lowest status groups in old Kerala, rate themselves a rung above the Parayas. They are numerically the larger of the two. Missionary work aimed at bringing them into the Anglican Communion reached its peak in the latter half of the nineteenth century. They constituted more than half of the membership of the Diocese of Travancore and Cochin in 1947 when it became the Madhya Kerala Diocese of the Church of South India. In the midland region of Travancore and in highlands to the east, they worked as farm hands raising paddy, tapicoa and cash crops while in the paddy fields of the west coast they were ploughers of the soil, sowers of seeds, transplanters of seedlings, removers of weeds, irrigators, harvesters, dryers of grain and loaders into the wooden storage space. Both men and women participated in all farm operations.

Dalit Religion/Religious Activities

Religion was an integral part of Pulaya social existence. George Mathan, a Church Missionary Society (CMS) Syrian Christian missionary stated, ‘with regard to their religious notions and practices, they admit the existence of a Supreme Being but are unable to comprehend how the government of this vast world can be carried without the assistance of subordinate agents.’29 Thus popular conceptions of the deity were mainly confined to ‘subordinate agents,’ (in step with or parallel to their own status in this world) and spirits of the deceased ancestors which held a major position in their worship. These spirits were called Chavars, Madans, Parakutty and Chathan. Describing the spirit worship a CMS Missionary with many years of ministry among Pulayas observed, ‘Their notions of a Deity are very crude; of a God who loves them they know nothing. All their religious ceremonies turn upon keeping off the wrath of malignant spirits: for this purpose they sacrifice cocks whose blood they sprinkle upon their altars.’30 These altars were situated in the midst of groves in certain consecrated raised squares called Yakshi Ampalam and Pey Koil, as they have no temples.

Pulayas, squeezed at the bottom of the most repressive socio-religious structure known to human beings, were not incapable of striking discordant notes through their ritual activities. Pulaya medicine men and witch doctors claimed secret and close communion with the spirits of the dead and performed mantravadam or sorcery. Mantravadis were believed to possess the powers of bringing malaise and misfortune on wrong-doers, especially the cruel landlords and wicked bossmen. Pulayas believed in the all pervasive dominion of the spirits on human affairs and held the sorcerers in awe and esteem. The upper castes dreaded these agents of the demons and the ghosts. Some social control over the excesses of the high caste landlords was exercised through the threat of Pulaya black magic in Travancore.31

In spite of the prominent role played by the primordial world-view in the worship of the Pulayas, their assimilation into higher sanskritic forms of worship was also evident. Thevaratampuran, meaning god whom high castes worship (literally meaning master’s god) figured in the Pulaya concept of polytheism or pantheism. Bhagavati and Kali were the goddesses to be appeased in times of danger and illness.32

Festivals were the most obvious institutional expression of social and religious life in the feudal set-up of yesterday’s Travancore and Cochin. In festivals and ceremonies connected to the agricultural operations and harvests, Pulayas had a significant level of participation, although some activities in which they participatged were rather oppressive like the sham fights in northern Travancore.33 In some regions Pulayas joined the festival processions. Vittu Iduka, a celebration on the day of Bharani during the months of February-March was an occasion to bring the paddy seeds to the Bhagavati temples. Pulayas had to stand at an assigned distance while offering the paddy grains. In Mandalam Vilakku, a forty-one day celebration in honour of Bhagavati, Pulayas were allowed participation at the culmination of the festivals.34 During the harvesting and threshing seasons Pulayas’ ritual participation was an essential requirement and obligation. The Pulaya headman performed ceremonies along with the landowner. Their religious activities reflected and reinforced the hierarchy and fulfilled obligations connected with the caste system in the eocnomic and the social life of the village. The divine hierarchy also was modelled by the earthly heirarchy.

In brief we may note that: (1) Pulayas shared in a multi-tiered religious system; (2) their accessibility was mainly to subordinate gods reflecting their social status; (3) they seem to have been caught up in a kind of ‘sanskritization’ process as far as their obligatory ritual participation was concerned. With these observations about the religion of the Pulayas let us move on to look at the communication of the Gospel by the missionaries.

COMMUNICATION OF THE GOSPEL

Formalities and Means of Christian Instruction

Christian instruction which preceded baptism and continued within the new Anglican congregations of the Pulayas constituted an important aspect of CMS missionary work. It is not an easy task to assess the effectiveness of even explicit instruction in building up a modicum of comprehension of the Gospel. Information on the content and methods is not as exhaustive as one might have liked. However, it is possible to obtain some idea of the process from the nature of the Christian instruction impaired by the missionaries, the people involved, and the way in which Pulayas responded to particular aspects of Christian teaching.

Christian instruction involved a considerable amount of teaching in what the missionaries called ‘the fundamental doctrines of the Gospel.’ This included, among other things, teachings on the ‘only means of salvation provided for mankind in Christ,’ and ‘the distinct offices of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost.’ The Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, the Ten Commandments and ‘the explanation of them as contained in the Church catechism’ were also invariably included in missionary instructions.35

The period between a Pulaya candidate’s acceptance of Anglican instruction and actual baptism, which usually extended to about two years, was considered a time of ‘probation’ during which the candidate had to sufficiently demonstrate ‘strictly consistent Christian conduct’ revealing a proper understanding of Christian fundamentals. A strict examination of the candidate’s ‘knowledge’ of these teachings was conducted by missionaries immediately prior to baptism. To the CMS missionaries, successful completion of probation and evidence of ‘sincere’ motivation on the part of the Pulaya candidates were sufficient to be eligible for membership of the invisible Church of Christ. Baptism was an external recognition thereof. After attending a group baptism ceremony along with many other missionary colleagues, Hawksworth gives the following description of the occasion:

We had the first baptism of slave converts in the Velloor school; between fifty and sixty were present, and (from) the numerous candidates for baptism nineteen were admitted into the visible Church of Christ … Their hearty responses and decided, brief and pointed answers as to motives … {and} strictly consistent Christian conduct for many months past, … left no doubts on our minds that many of these, I hope all, were already members of the invisible Church of Christ.36

As is apparent from the above remarks most of the candidates for baptism were considered unsuitable. Indeed, this was a typical situation.

Successful completion of what must have often been a difficult period of learning and probation ended in baptism. Both converts and missionaries considered baptism to be an event of great importance. ‘The necessity of being thoroughly prepared’ for such an occasion seems to have been taken quite seriously by Pulaya candidates.37 In Most of these ceremonies, one or more missionaries personally examined the candidates. It is evident from missionary descriptions that the ability to repeat certain teachings and to give set answers was seen as further proof that the candidates understood Christ’s way of salvation as preached by the missionaries. A typical baptism is described by Hawkesworth as follows:

There were sixty-five candidates for baptism, all neatly clad (so different from former appearance) and their faces beamed with delight … They were questioned, not only to ascertain their knowledge of scriptural truth, but also to ascertain, as far as possible, their apprehension of Christ as a living and a present Saviour. Their answers were prompt, correct, and at times, thrilling. To the question, ‘Why is Christ gone to heaven,’ the reply, instant, unanimous, and self-interested was, ‘He is gone to prepare a place for us!’ Doubtful cases were carefully canvassed, especially by one who had visited them from hut to hut, and does so regularly, who knows them individually.38

Communicators of the Gospel

English missionaries and the Syrian Christian priests prominent in the Anglican hierarchy were the first groups to convey the Christian message to the Pulayas. Instruction mainly took place during routine, but rather infrequent, visits to the congregations. In most cases the English missionaries seem to have taught and preached in the vernacular, although occasionally they relied on translators.

From the comment and evaluation of the missionaries, it can be assumed that the preaching and verbal communication of the Gospel were largely a one-way process, and not much of what they preached was actually understood. In fact language itself was one of the main barriers. Andrews, who was well versed in Malayalam, observed, ‘How earnestly I long to preach Christ to these poor jungle slaves. Their language or dialect, is very peculiar. But they understood you much better than you can understand them.’39 Apparently the colloquial of Pulaya speech and language was vastly different from that of other caste groups like Syrian Christians and Nairs, with whom the missionaries communicated on a regular basis. English missionaries were unable to truly enter into the spirit and style of Pulaya verbal communication. This is how Andrews commented on the translation by Peet, a Malayalam scholar among the Travancore missionaries, on another missionary’s lesson to a group of Pulayas: ‘I am afraid not much of the good advice has been understood. Few among them can make a long grammatical sentence. Their own colloquial is peculiarly short and categorical, almost every other sentence being in the form of a question.'40

Syrian Christian missionaries were also somewhat dissatisfied with the quality of their own communication with the Pulayas during Christian instruction. Koshi Koshi and I. Eapen who earnestly tried to enter into dialogue with the converts did not meet with much success because the Pulayas’ conversational style and skill were different from what they expected. In fact, the new Christian vocabulary introduced by the missionaries was somewhat alien to them.41 While teaching the Pulaya candidates of Mepra, Koshi Koshi found many responses from the candidates did ‘not fully correspond’ to Anglican Christian instruction. It was apparent that several Christian concepts and terms as taught by them had not always survived the journey into Pulaya minds unscathed. Koshi Koshi observed, ‘It is indeed a hard struggle for them to get at some of the terms necessarily employed in their instruction such as ‘repentance,’ ‘faithfulness,’ etc., so that they often said one thing while [they] meant quite another …’42

Ideas

‘One must not suppose these slaves do not exercise their reason’ observed Andrews, despite the extreme frustration he felt in his struggle to teach the Pulayas.43 Notwithstanding the limitations in the explicit communication of the Christian message, certain ideas appear to have made a stronger appeal to the Pulayas than to anyone else.

The notion of a God or a Supreme Being who is accessible and approachable was not easy to comprehend for many Pulaya converts. Indeed, such a notion of God was in complete contradiction to their traditional religious experience. A.F. Painter while discussing the Pulaya belief system observed. ‘The existence of a Supreme Being is acknowledged by them, but they have been taught to believe that they are too degraded to approach Him.’44 Before their conversion to Christianity the Pulayas only worwhipped the regional and local deities as distinct from other deities which were accessible only to higher castes. Moreover, this practice corresponded with their caste position in society. Andrews attempted at one point to explain his understanding of a Supreme God drawing a parallel between the untouchables’ accessibility to the Raja and to God. However, this analogy made no sense as the Pulayas had no access to the Rajas in the first place, and would have been killed if they made a move in that direction. To them God was associated with ‘evil’ and was mostly inaccessible. They did not want to be near Hsim.45 Thus Christian concepts which did not correspond to the Pulayas’ experience were not readily accepted by the candidates.

At the same time, Pulaya candidates seem to have been attracted by certain attributes of God as portrayed by Anglican missionaries. Several missionaries note that the concept of a loving God found receptive ears among the Pulayas. Andrews observes: '‘it was indeed good news to them to hear that God loved them, and would have them to be saved. They seemed to have gained

ideas of the deity, and the love of Christ has been direct contrast to the Pulayas’ established beliefs about the deity. Indeed, their religious activities were directed towards containing the negative power, particularly the wrath of the gods. So, why did these Pulaya candidates respond so positively to the idea of a loving God? Apparently, the practical implications of such an attribute of God as portrayed by the missionaries encouraged a positive response. Some missionaries linked their sermons and lessons to Pulaya aspirations for better treatment in society. The following description of how Koshi Koshi preached to Pulayas reveals how certain Christian ideas affected them.

I spoke to them about the only one God the creator of all things, about the nothingness of idols, the sin of idolatry, sin in general, and its terrible consequences after death and of the only means of salvation provided for all mankind in Christ. They appeared pleased that all men of both high castes and low castes were alike in the sight of God and all descended from the same common parents and that our holy religion recognised no distinction of caste but Christians are taught to regard all classes as brothers and sisters.46

The very fact that Pulayas were accepted into a religion of their masters and were able to have access to the religious privileges which came with it was sufficient demonstration of the missionary message of love and equality. Andrews, the most popular missionary among the Pulayas, linked salvation through Christianity among other things to the privileges which ‘had now come to the slaves.’ The right of Pulaya Christians ‘to assemble for learning, or to take Sabbath for a rest’ were shown as evidence of such privileges.47 Similarly, George Mathan, the pioneer of the anti-slavery movement, preached to the Pulayas about their wretched condition and of the benefits they would derive, temporally as well as spiritually, by embracing Christianity.48 Such messages linking Christianity to certain privileges that the Pulayas might enjoy definitely caught their imagination.

The image of the Christian God as a powerful guarantee against ‘Satan’s special attacks and hatred’ seems to have found ready acceptance. In fact, the use of such images by the missionaries to get across the Christian message obviously reinforced some of the Pulayas’ pre-existing notions of God. One missionary observed that Christianity offered Pulayas ‘deliverance from the fear of the devil, whom they stand in the greatest terror.’ A Nair reported to the missionaries that after the arrival of Christianity among the Pulayas the ‘evil spirits were obliged to run away from the places’ and there was ‘scarcely any instance of demonical possession’ among them.49 Some of the priests of the Pulayas who converted to Christianity demolished the images of their deities in the presence of the missionaries, thereby suggesting belief in the power of the new God which they had found in Christianity.

‘Slaves believe that persons attacked with any disease if prayed over in their Church will get cured,’ observed Oommen Mammen.50 Epidemics particularly put such belief to the test. In Tiruvalla during a cholera outbreak Pulaya converts brought the sick for the prayer. When patients died, it brought ridicule from non-Christian Pulayas. Indeed, missionaries feared that ‘enquirers might backslide’ when it was seen that Christian prayer had failed. Moreover there were incidents which indicate that some Pulayas saw baptism as a guarantee against disease and calamity.

From the available sources it is not entirely clear how widespread these beliefs were. However, it is clear that Christian teachings which could be demonstrated in practical everyday life were better received than others.

Cultural Continuities

‘A host of baptised heathens … a mass of Pulayas calling themselves Christians who are impure and heathen in their lives.’51 This is how Caley, an Anglican missionary who greatly influenced the attitudes and the policies of the CMS mission in Travancore until the end of the nineteenth century, referred to Pulaya Christians. These remarks were made precisely 20 years after the first Pulaya baptism. Significantly, the Bishop of the diocese used similar words to express his dissatisfaction with the Pulaya Christians within the Anglican Church. He said, they were ‘degenerating into a state of heathenism.’52

From the initial stages of the conversion movement, CMS missionaries were determined to implement rigid Christianisation and as far as possible prevent any contact between Christian and non-Christian Pulayas. Adult baptism did not take place until converts had demonstrated sufficient evidence of strict separation. The structures established for Christian instruction, examination of Christian motives, and finally baptism itself were developed to guard against any form of accommodation and weed out any remaining non-Christian practice.

Despite the strict Christianisation and its apparent success, it did not take long for the missionaries to discover the persistence of non-Christian religious and cultural practices among Pulaya converts. Responding to this problem, Koshi Koshi, a Syrian Christian priest, wrote: ‘The facts and doctrines of Christianity appeared to have fared much like the contents of a leaky vessel.’53 Indeed, CMS missionaries were conceding the failure of Christianisation at least in certain Pulaya moves.

Both English and Syrian Christian missionaries felt disappointed at the continuation of pre-Christian religio-cultural practices among the converts.54 The Provincial Council of the CMS in Travancore, which consisted of both missionaries and Syrian Christian priests, formally discussed this issue and concluded that the Pulaya Christians were ‘not well established in the faith.’ It is evident that this comment was made in direct reference to continued pre-Christian religious practices.

Referring to the tendency of converts to resort to non-Christian practices to ward off the ‘evil’ effects of ‘former gods,’ Bishop Hodges wrote, ‘The Pulayas are often found to be uncertain and foolish as children, and easily led away.’55 Several references to the continued practice of non-Christian ceremonies can also be found in missionary letters. ‘Superstitious dread of the corpse of a person’ who died of smallpox was common among Pulaya Christians and missionaries found it difficult to secure a ‘Christian burial’ for victims of smallpox. The failure of Western medicine easily led some converts to promise offerings or sacrifices to temples. Having analysed this practice, C.A. Neve observed,

At times of epidemics, especially smallpox … some of our converts are exposed to great temptation to fall away from their Christian faith, and join their old heathen associates in offering to the Demon who is supposed to be the author of the disease.56

Thus for at least some Pulaya converts the distinctions between Christians and non-Christians were not as sharp as the missionaries expected.

Conclusion

Has Horton’s theory any relevance to the Malayarayan and Pulaya conversions is worth examining in detail if somebody can take up the anthropolgical task. However, here let me make some brief observations:

Firstly, the two-tier structure of African cosmology does not fit the Pulayas’ pre-existing belief system which was multi-tiered, incorporating an hierarchy of gods. Spirits of the deceased ancestors had a significant role and position in their religious activities. On the next level were ‘subordinate agents’ or malignant and malevolent spirits. Thevaratampuran (master’s god), Bhagavati and Kali, comparatively high forms of deity, also figured in the Pulaya religious activities.

Secondly, the preaching of the CMS missionaries was in direct contradiction to the Pulayas’ previously-held thought patterns and perceptions of God although certain concepts such as protection from evil spirits and the concept of equality were part of their pre-Christian cosmology. Especially important in contradicting missionary teaching was the traditional conviction about the wrath of gods. Missionaries largely admitted failure in conveying this message.

Thus missionary communication cleared the path not for a fulfillment but for a contradiction or a confrontation of two opposites – Gods of wrath and the God of love. Consequently in the transference of ideas they confronted obstacles and failures.

I would like to observe that pre-existing ideas were not conducive to Pulaya conversion to Christianity. They may have converted in spite of the pre-existing belief system. Possibly the most effective communications were those related to sociological aspects like equality of castes. In fact this only confirms the overall proposition of historians of Christian conversion in India that the sociological rather than cosmological factors were of primary importance in the conversion process of dalits.

Thirdly, the two-tier structure of African cosmology does not fit the Malayarayan’s pre-existing belief system which was an integrated whole. They had a heirarchy of primal spirits and some Sanskritic gods at the time in question (1840s to 1890s). Spirits of the deceased ancestors had a significant role in their beliefs. Comparatively high forms of deity, borrowed from Hinduism such as Kali and Ayyappan, also figured in their cosmology although not as a top tier.

Fourthly, the preaching and practice of missionaries which Malayarayans heard and saw seem to have helped these tribal people to move although with ambivalence, to certain new notions of God/Spirit who is "more powerful." The socio-economic change in motion by the plantations, diseases and epidemics, created a crisis of confidence in adjusting to or adapting with existence and environment. Christianity and certain related ideas came to them in such a predicament. Christianity and its belief system were conducive to Malayarayan conversion to the new religion. They all have converted to Christianity because of some of the Christian cosmological understandings which were in continuity to their previously held notions of spirit and a God/Spirit who could deal with crises and change.

Our analysis confirms that pre-existing religious ideas played a role in Malayarayan conversion to Christianity. Christianity seems to have offered to them a package to deal with crises of the mid-nineteenth century. However, they did not seem to completely replace one system of belief with another. Malayarayans appear to have appropriated new ways to deal with their changing world-view.

Although pre-conversion belief systems had similarities in both the cases they seem to be responding to the religious move in different ways. For instance, both groups had primal features appearing very prominently in their belief systems. Moreover, both were caught up in a process of ‘Sanskritization.’ However, when responding we see significant variations. Very tentatively, I would like to observe that it was the socio-economic context which seems to determine the way they would handle the conversion process and not necessarily their previous belief systems.

Tribals seem to have been more responsive to the religious/intellectual ideas involved in the process of interaction between two world-views. Whereas, dalits appear to have made the move to Christianity inspite of the apparent contradictions involved in the ideas that were confronting them. They pushed forward with socio-economic aspects at the top of their interaction and continued their search for self-dignity and social improvement. In fact, as we noted earlier, dalits were more responsive to ideas which had some concrete social implications.

For tribals, in the face of radical change or threat of change, issues related to preservation of their identity and space on the one hand, and dealing with the new world-view on the other, were vital to their sustained and meaningful continuance. Whereas, dalits are seeking social change and uplift through a religious conversion process.

Finally, it would be a historical distortion to claim a definitive knowledge about what is happening in the ideational interaction that is taking place in these movements. There is a sense of ambivalence coming across in both cases of religious interaction. The religious interface and the movement between boundaries are clear indicators of it. Both tribals and dalits moved between pre-existing and Christian world-views and there seems to be emerging a hybridity of ideational search.

Endnotes:

1 D.B. Forrester, Caste and Christianity, Attitudes and Policies on Caste of Anglo-Saxon Protestant Missions in India, (London, 1970).J.W. Gladstone, Protestant Christianity and People’s Movement in Kerala: A Study of Christian Mass Movement in Relation to Neo-Hindu Socio-Religious Movements in Kerala 1850-1936, (Trivandrum, 1984).D. Kooiman, Conversion and Social Equality in India: The London Missionary Society in South Travancore in the 19th Century, (New Delhi, 1989).G.A. Oddie, ‘Christian Conversion in Telugu Country, 1860-1900: A Caste Study of One Protestant Movement in the Godavary-Krishna Delta,’ Indian Economic and Social History Review, Vol. , No. 1, January-March, 1975.

John C.B. Webster, The Christian Community and Change in Nineteenth Century North India, (Delhi, 1976).

2 Robin Horton, "African Conversion," Africa, Vol. XLI, April 1971, No. 2, pp. 85-108. Robin Horton, "On the Rationality of Conversion," Part 1, Africa, Vol. XLI, 1975, No. 3.

3 See for details, "Hill Araanns," Proceedings of the Church Missionary Society, 1849-50, p. clv; Proceedings of the Church Missionary Society, 1851-52, p. 145 (hereinafter, Procedings).

4 Census of Travancore, 1901, as quoted in E. Thurston, Castes and Tribes of Southern India, Vol. IV, 1909, pp. 3871 (hereinafter Thurston, 1909).

5 Samuel Mateer, Native Life in Travancore (1883), p. 73 (hereinafter Mateer, 1883). See also, Baker, Jr., Proceedings, 1852-53, p. 119.

6 H. Baker, Jr., "The Arrian Mission," Church Missionary Intelligencer (1862), p. 235 (hereinafter C.M. Intelligencer).

7 Samuel Mateer, 1883, p.73, C.M. Intelligencer, 1862, p. 235.

8 L.A. Krishna Iyer, 1968, p. 62.

9 C.M. Intelligencer, 1862, p. 235.

10 See Thurston, 1909, Mateer, 1883, Census of Travancore, 1901.

11 A.F. Painter, in Proceedings, 1886-87, p. 176.

12 Baker, Jr., in Proceedings, 1852-53, p. 129; see also Mateer, 1883, p. 74.

13 Baker, Jr., in C.M. Intelligencer, 1862, p. 235, Thurston, 1909, p. 390.

14 Proceedings, 1852-53, p. 130.

15 Samuel Mateer, 1883, p. 75.

16 A.F. Painter, "The Story of the Mission to the Hill Arrians," C.M. Intelligencer, 1898, p. 72, Thurston, 1909, pp. 391ff.

17 C.M. Intelligencer, 1862, p. 236.

18 Baker’s Letter, C.M. Intelligencer, 1850, p. 60.

19 Proceedings, 1849-50, p. clvi.

20 Proceedings, 1864-65, p. 148.

21 C.M. Intelligencer, 1862, p. 240.

22 Baker, Jr.,

23 Baaker,Jr., in Proceedings, 1852-53, p. 130.

24 C.M. Intelligencer, Proceedings, 1886-87, p. 176.

25 C.M. Intelligencer, 1862, p. 237.

27 C.M. Intelligencer and Record, 1883, p. 563.

26 Proceedings, 1852-53, p. 130, Proceedings, 1886-87, p. 176.

28 Proceedings, 1849-50, p. 130.

29 Journal of George Mathan, 31 December 1850, CI O/161/21 CMS Archives at Birmingham University. Hereafter CMS, London, CMS.

30 ‘Travancore and Its Population,’ CM Intelligencer, Vol. XIII, 1862, September, p. 215.

4 Edgar Thurston, Castes and Tribes of Southern India, Vol. XII, (Madras, 1909), p. 86.

31 See Kathleen Gough, ‘Cults of the Dead Among the Nayars,’ in Milton Singer (ed.), Traditional India, (Philadelphia, 1959), p. 264.

32 The Missionary Register, 1852, p. 443; Thurston, Castes and Tribes, Vol. II, pp. 83, 86.

33 Thurston, Castes and Tribes, Vol. II, pp. 59f.

34 L.A. Krishna Iyer, The Cochin Tribes and Castes, Vol. I, (Madras, 1909), pp. 113-115.

35 See Annual Letter, Koshi Koshi, July-September, 1857, C12/0147/3 CMS, George Mathan, Journal, Quarter ending 31 March 1851, C12/0161/23 CMS, Proceedings of the CMS 1861-62, p. 165.

36 CMS Report, 1859-60, p. 148.

37 See Annual Letter of Koshi Koshi, July to September 1857, C12/0147/3 CMS.

38 Proceedings of the CMS 1862-63, p. 150.

39 Andrews, Diary, 6 September 1856, C1/023/9, p. 8, CMS.

40 Andrews, Journal, 11 December 1857, C1/023/13, p. 12, CMS.

41 See Annual Letter of Koshi Koshi, July to September 1857, C1/10147/3 CMS, CMS Record, Vol. XII, 1867, p. 310.

42 See Annual Letter of Koshi Koshi, July to September 1857, C1/0417/3 CMS.

43 Andrews, Journal, 2 August 1857, p. 10, C12/023/12, CMS.

44 A.F. Painter, ‘The Pulayas of Travancore,’ The Diocesan Gazette, April 1882, p. 192.

45 Andrews, Diary, 2 August 1857, p. 19, C12/023/12 CMS, Andrews, Diary, 21 July 1857, p. 5, C12/23/12 CMS.

46 Koshi Koshi, Journal, July to September 1857, C12/0247/3 CMS.

47 Andrews, Journal, 12 September 1858, p. 17, C12/028/16 CMS.

48 Letter of George Mathan, 14 November 1866, CMS Record, Vol. XII, 1867, p. 309.

49 CMS Report, 1856-57, p. 138.

50 Letter of Oommen mammen to Venn, 24 August 1859, C12/0157/2 CMS.

51 Annual Letter of Caley, 29 December 1874, C12/055/13 CMS.

52 Letter of Bishop J.M. Travancore and Cochin to Gray, 22 May 1880, G21/5/0 CMS.

53 See Annual Letter of Koshi Koshi, 3 December 1874, C12/0147/14 CMS.

54 Annual Letter of Caley, 29 December 1874, C12/055/13 CMS.

55 Bishop Hodges, 30 January 1892, Extracts of Annual Letter 1891-92, p. 196, CMS OFFICE.

56 C.A. Neve ‘Outcastes and Their Attitudes to the Gospel and Some of the Hindrances to Their Ingatherings,’ The Travancore and Cochin Diocesan Record, Vol. XVIII, No. 4, August 1908, p. 54.

Dalit Conversion and Social Protest in Travancore, 1854-1890

This paper examines the Travancore Pulaya mass conversion movement to Anglicanism in the latter half of 19th century as an expression of social protest. Highlighting aspects of the dissent and dissociation from the Hindu system involved in this movement is likely to add another dimension to the theories on conversion movements in India set forth by Oddie (1975), Webster (1976), Forrester (1977), Manikam (1977), Gladstone (1984) and Kooiman (1989)1 While these historians observe Christian conversion movements from a purely sociological standpoint they seem to have missed the elements of protest and remonstrance involved. It is hoped that this discussion will help us to look back and see things, although darkly, and raise a few questions.

To understand the aspects of social protest in Pulaya conversions it may be helpful to draw a fine distinction between dalit consciousness and caste consciousness. Dalit consciousness is a reaction to dominant forces rooted in an yearning for relief from human conditions of existence and a sense of utter powerlessness in the depths of oppression. Caste consciousness of middle and upper low castes is another kettle of fish. It is response to material deprivation, that is, denial of material goods.2 While disadvantages or deprivations of a materialist nature, the delicate lines of difference are of a mental category. The degree of response and its intensity has a relation to the variations of humiliation and despair felt by the oppressed. Let me just say the "collective psychology" of the respondent groups makes a difference. If this distinction is recognised the nature of dalit consciousness may show up more clearly in the conversion movements in Travancore.

As Pulayas themselves let only sparse written records we have no option but to rely heavily on missionary sources. Missionary materials were written from a western angle and meant for an audience in England. In spite of the bias and imperfections of an "outside" view, if used, critically, it makes a good start for reconstructing past events. We can see examples of such critical use of colonial material in Benedict Hjejle (1967) and Ranjit Guha (1983). Having said that, let us go into the subject matter; who were the early Pulaya converts? What were the deprivations experienced by them? Was mass conversion a collective form of protest to injustice?

1. The Pulayas of Travancore

It is hard to establish whether the Pulayas had self perception of themselves as a sizable caste group embracing all regions of Kerala. However, it is clear that they were a homogeneous group with common caste customs and practices. There were several internal divisions within the Pulaya group, with some of them claiming ritualistic as well as social superiority over others The two major groups in central Travancore were the Kizhakke Pulayan and the Padinjare Pulayan.5 Within all these divisions of Pulayas were cleavages into Illams (families) or Koottams (groups) which regulated conjugal relationships. Consequently marriages took place only between two persons belonging to two separate Warns and not within Illams.6

At the beginning of the 19th century, it was clear that Pulayas were the most numerous caste among the dalits of Travancore. In 1836 when the first census was taken, there were 90,598 Pulayas, constituting more than half of the total of the "least ran king castes."7 By 1875, Pulayas had almost doubled in number to 188,916.8

Pulayas were ranked just above Parayas in the local caste hierarchy. The caste system prevailing in Travancore was more rigid than elsewhere in India, as indicated by the fact that other castes considered Pulayas both untouchable and non-approachable. Pulayas had to stand at a distance of ninety feet from Brahmins and sixty-four feet from Nairs.9

Correspondent to the Pulayas’ low caste status was the imposition of a highly restricted manner of speech. They were compelled to use self-degrading language, for example, instead of "I" they use adiyan (your slave); for "rice," not chow, but karikadi (dirty gruel), and for their homes they use rnadum (hut).10

Most Pulayas were agricultural labourers and were held in bondage (adirna) or in a client relationship with their high caste landlords Part of the ‘privilege’ of being such a client relationship was a right to claim bare maintenance from the landlord, and to a small share in the produce of the land It was a highly exploitative and oppressive system

In the 1836 census there were 164 864 "soil slaves in Travan core, of whom Pulayas constituted the majority.11 By 1891, Pulayas constituted 8.18% of the total population)2 In 1875, 97% of the Pulayas were attached agricultural labourers and only 3% seem to have owned any property.13

From 1850 onwards, CMS Missionary reports and journals contained information on the conditions of the Pulayas in Travancore, providing a particularly rich body of source material on slavery Hawksworth and George Matthan, two untiring champions of the Pulaya cause, presented the "unparalleled" conditions of the Pulaya slaves by highlighting the inhuman treatment by the landlords, and the poverty and misery of the Pulayas. In his journal on Dec 5, 1850, George Matthan wrote:

The condition of these unhappy beings, is, I think, without a parallel in the whole range of history. They are regarded as so unclean, that they are thought to convey pollution to their fellow creatures, not only by contact, but even by approach. They are so wretchedly provided with the necessities of life that the most loathsome things are a treat to them. Their persons are entirely at the disposal of their masters, by whom they are bought and sold like cattle, and are often worse treated. The owners had formerly power to flog and enchain them, and in some cases to maim them, or even deprive them of their lives. . . . They were everywhere paid for their labour at the lowest possible rate.14

2. Traditional Forms of Resistance

Pulayas, squeezed at the bottom of the most repressive socio-religious structures known to man, were not incapable of striking discordant notes while eating the humble pie.

I) Cast the Spell

Pulaya medicine men and witch doctors claimed secret and close communion with the spirits of the dead and performed rnantra va darn or sorcery. Mantravadis were believed to possess the powers of bringing malaise and misfortune on wrongdoers, especially the cruel landlords and wicked bossmen. Pulayas believed in the all pervasive dominion of the spirits on human affairs and held the sorcerers in awe and esteem The upper castes dreaded these agents of the demons and ghosts According to Mencher some social control over the excesses of the high caste landlords was exercised through the threat of Pulaya black magic in Travancore. 15

ii) Angry Song and Dance

The yyarn, the traditional mask dance form of dalits in Kerala, was used as a means to rebuke, ridicule and to some extent question the atrocities and injustices done to them. Theyyam dances and the group songs sung during the agricultural operations were a sort of inversions and defiance to the dominance of the high castes.16 Some of the Pulaya folk songs were loud expressions of indignation and retribution.17

iii) Steal and Escape

Pilfering and migration were traditional methods of defiance. James C. Scott describes them as "weapons of the weak" and "everyday forms of subordinate class’s resistance."18 Pilfering of paddy was very common in Travancore during the harvest season.

iv) "Frighten Women" Days

To still the guilty conscience of the oppressors, a custom was in vogue by which Pulayas were given a chance to challenge the dominance of high caste landlords. It was supposed to recompense the cruelties inflicted on them all the year round. This custom was called Pulaped, that is, terror from the Pulayas. On a few days of the year, Pulayas were granted the "right" to "frighten" and to pollute high caste women who were moving around alone without a male escort.19

All the above examples reveal that the Pulayas of Travancore had means, some of which even passed into Kerala tradition, to give vent to their frustrations. From the socio-psychological perspective, it is important to assume that conversion to Christianity was another outlet to channel suppressed feelings of revulsion at, and opposition to, the evils of landlordism. It may be seen as a sequel to, and sequence of, the forms of collective protest with which Pulayas were not unfamiliar.

3. Anti-slavery Movement and the CMS Missionaries

The CMS missionaries who came to Travancore in 1816, were by the 1850s, acquainted with social conditions in Travancore, especially about the rights and sufferings of the dalits. The development of missionary sympathy towards the plight of the slave castes in Travancore culminated in the submission of a memorandum by Anglican missionaries dated 20 March 1847. The signatories, Bailey, Baker, Hawksworth and Baker Jr., all had either long experience in the state or were closely acquainted with the lower classes of central Travancore. Indeed, the text of the memorandum clearly reflects their humanitarian concern with the evils of the slave system They demanded the emancipation of all the slaves in Travancore as an act of ‘humanity and kindness’ The petition stated:

With the condition of the slaves we have had many opportunities of becoming acquainted, and have been distressed to find in reference to these people, employed in the most laborious and unhealthy services, that even when hardest wrought, their food is barely adequate to their sustenance -- their clothing miserably scanty, their dwellings affording but little shelter from the moisture and cold surrounding them, and that generally no provision is made for their support when their labour is not required, or disease or age render them unable to labour -- that no medical aid is provided for them when ill, that they can be and are bought and sold as cattle, and that in (the) heartless traffic the husband and wife, the parent and child can be widely separated and sold in different directions, that they are often subjected to very cruel treatment from their masters, and that, owing to their degradation, they are in a great measure, deprived of the benefit of the lower courts, and entirely cut off from all access to their prince.20

Early 1850s was a period of intense campaign of CMS missionaries against the adirna (bonded labour) system. Extensive interviews with Pulayas were published by the missionaries.21 At this stage of the campaign the CMS missionaries developed not only a sense of sympathy for the Pulaya community, but also a degree of emotional commitment to do something concrete about the Pulayas’ social condition. Missionary propaganda about the disabilities and miseries brought the attached labourer system into disrepute.

Missionaries went to Travancore with no declared aim of altering social relationships. Nor was the slave-liberation campaign a deliberate strategy to win the Pulaya over to the Anglican Church. There is no evidence that they became actively involved in the anti-slavery movement because they believed it would maximise opportunities for evangelism among the slaves. In fact anti-slavery and evangelistic campaigns were (at least initially) considered by the missionaries as separate issues. However, this disjuncture was obvious neither to the high caste landlords nor to the Pulayas.

By 1850, at the height of the anti slavery campaign, the emancipation efforts and the possible conversion of Pulayas were already being linked at the village level. Consequently, widespread "rumours" were going around in areas where the missionaries had started evangelism about the conversion of Pulayas to the Anglican Church, even before the missionaries had anticipated any such group movement.22

However, the landlords perceived missionary moves as a potential threat to the Pulayas’ subservient role in the social system. George Matthan observed, "strong fears exist among all classes of people that the enlightenment of slaves will be followed by their liberation, and the consequent ruin of the interests of agriculture. We are therefore being regarded as enemies to the best interest of the country."23 Indeed many landlords felt that the missionaries had usurped the landlord’s position of authority over the Pulayas.

The missionaries’ anti-slavery campaign and their continued pressure on the Travancore government finally ended in the emancipation of the slaves. On 24 June 1855 it was declared that owning slaves was illegal.

Baker, a leading missionary campaigner, was disappointed that the proclamation was not given any publicity by the government.

He immediately printed copies of the proclamation in Malayalam.24 The missionaries personally supervised the prompt distribution of the pamphlet among the slaves. Although "the slaves and some others gladly received them," the landlords were less than pleased. They tried to prevent the distribution of the proclamation.25 The persistence of the missionaries reinforced the unprecedented influence CMS Missionaries now exercised among the dalits, and perhaps in the general social system, and led the Pulayas to perceive CMS missionaries as their powerful allies.

Following the emancipation of the slaves in Travancore in 1855, a significant number of Pulayas from different parts of Central Travancore approached CMS missionaries or their representatives with requests for "Christian instruction" and "slave schools," clearly indicating their readiness to move to a new religion and further their alliance with the missionaries The annual number of adult baptisms recorded by CMS missionaries did not exceed 100 during 1850s and early 1860s From late 1860s onwards, the number of adults baptised shows on increase to 500 a year26

4. Explaining Pulaya Conversion:

It is evident from the sources provided by the missionaries that unprecedented changes were taking place in Pulaya attitudes and behaviour as a result of their emancipation.

In mid-19th century Travancore, the high caste landlords were already feeling vulnerable and their sense of confidence was beginning to wane. The traditional system of control over the dalits was threatened by the missionaries’ antislavery campaign

Mid 19th century developments afforded opportunities for Pulayas to express resentment to many aspects of the existing patron-client relationship. They confidently pushed for more autonomy and freedom.27 Alliance with the missionaries through conversion was an added incentive.

Growing signs of assertiveness and defiance were evident in the actions of many Pulayas during this time. H. Andrews, a CMS missionary who worked among them, described the change as follows:

In fact, an upheaving is taking place generally among the slave masses; and it is our general belief here, that if some escape in the way of direction for good is not at once pointed out, much, very much, mischief may arise. In some places they have begun to resort in insult and sarcasm upon the Nairs as opportunity offers; and indeed, it is but natural, though not excusable. It is my growing conviction that their evangelisation will soon be permanently forced upon our notice, in spite of it, being logically proved by some that they are not the influential class. But to show that they have some influence, I know that when the master of some twenty of the Vellur slaves bade them work on Sunday, their plain "No" settled the matter.28

CMS missionary correspondence makes numerous references to an increase in conflict between Pulayas and landlords and the consequent persecution of the former. In places in the major paddy belts in Vellur, Mepra and Mallappally, all Pulaya strongholds, tensions arose frequently.29 In some cases, Pulayas showed continued defiance by "running away" from their landlord’s geographical area of influence. Mundakayam and the high ranges of Travancore are places where the fugitives found abode.30 Significantly, these are the places where most of the initial conversions among the Pulayas took place, confirming the direct link between Pulaya-landlord conflict and conversion to Anglicanism.

Any open declaration of association with the Anglican Church and missionary evangelism was considered as a "subversive action" on the part of the Pulayas. Along with Christianity, the CMS missionaries were acquiring a special place in the life of the Pulaya community. In the context of the emotion-laden conflicts of the period, Hawksworth observed, "some of them speak as if they had at length found a friend -- a friend that sticketh closer than brother," in the CMS missionary.31

Mateer reports that in Central Travancore Pulaya converts at work in the field were delighted to sing "Christian" songs which made direct reference to the freedom they had found in Christianity. The following was one of the songs:

Our slave work is done, our slave bonds are gone, for this we shall never henceforth forsake Thee, O Jesus:

To purchase cattle, fields, houses, and many luxuries (we were sold).

(Now) Messiah himself has settled in the land a people who once fled in terror.

As the Lord has freed from slavery the much-suffering Israelites in Egypt,

So he has freed us from our distress.32

Such "slave hymns" were popular among Pulayas from 1857 onwards, and were sung with fervour during the baptism ceremony.33

5. Main Features of the Initial Conversion

I) Runaways

A significant number of Pulaya converts initially drawn to Christianity was "runaway" slaves. The information available on their background is scanty. Nevertheless, missionary reports agree that most of them were either unwilling or unable to tolerate the excessive cruelties which landlords inflicted on them. Many found refuge in far away places where they could labour in comparative independence.

It is significant that during the 1850s, some of them were prepared to break traditional ties and leave the territorial confinements of a desarn (locality), effectively challenging the pattern of social relations and "internal bond of solidarity."34 Many of them trudged more than 160 miles to reach places like Mundakayam, Eraviperoor and Ranni. Most of them attempted to reach places remote from their homes and outside their landlord’s sphere of influence, or where missionary protection was readily available.

Sometimes "armed" agents of landlords, including Syrian Christians, raided abodes of the "runaways." CMS missionaries directly intervened to protect the Pulayas. In some cases they made the landlords bring back people who had been "mistakenly carried off."35 On other occasions, landlords directly approached the CMS missionaries with the promise of "slave schools," "provided that (the Pulayas) work for them on weekdays." Even in such circumstances, many of the Pulayas resisted attempts to return them to their former patrons "as they placed no confidence in the men’s promises."36

In fact, a 1858 Travancore government circular acknowledges that

some "former slaves" were being "persecuted" and intimidated by the landlords for "seeking to work for whom they choose." As a result of CMS missionary interest in "runaway" slaves, and the CMS missionaries’ continued pressure on the State government, Pulayas were protected from further violence. The landlords were warned by the government against physical violence against dalits.37

ii) Sorcerers

Several traditional priests and sorcerers (mantravadis) of the Pulaya community were also involved in the initial conversion movement. They exercised a great deal of influence and power over their people: performed religious rituals, sacrifices and black magic for the Pulayas and also at times for the high castes. It is significant to note that the first baptism from among the Pulayas of Central Travancore and from among the "runaway" slaves in Mundakayam were the mantravadis.38 In places like Mepra, Punnapra and Vembala near Alleppey where the conversion movement was particularly strong, CMS missionaries acknowledged the leadership of the Pulaya priests.39

The factors that accelerated the conversion of these priests are not entirely clear. The missionaries were eager to attribute this to religious reasons by comparing "the foolishness of the Hindu Gods" "with the purity and holiness and love" of Christ or by suggesting the priests were tired of "vainly striving to please by frequent offerings 40 Matthan’s report about an "intelligent Pulaya priest Choti reads as follows:

Choti expressed to me his hope that I would not consider him to be an unbeliever from his delaying to be baptised and stated that his whole motive in this acting was his desire to bring more of his fellow caste men to the knowledge of truth, for his influence would be lost among them if he entirely separated from their community by baptism.41

It is worth noting that the initial leaders of the conversion movements were those who spearheaded Pulayas’ traditional forms of protest against high castes.

iii) Enthusiasm

The conversion movement among the Pulayas was spread more widely by their own initiative and enthusiasm. As a result, whole groups in the community were brought over to the new religion, resisting intimidation and coercion of the landlords far more effectively than as individuals. Andrews observed, ‘The movement is now beyond the masters’ power to check it. . ." 42 The mutual "determination among these slaves to come and hear at any risk" not only surprised missionaries but annoyed the landlords.43

George Matthan’s observations were similar:

This increase is attributable more to the zeal and diligence of the slaves themselves than to the endeavours on our part. They in general show a praiseworthy anxiety to communicate the inestimable treasure they have freely got to others of their own class, and thus afford an evidence of the sincerity of their profession, the purity of their motives, and the love they have for their fellow creatures.44

By the beginning of the 1860s it was rather apparent that the spread of Christianity among the Pulayas was really indigenous Andrews, examining 200 Pulaya candidates for baptism noted, "it shows itself"

iv) In the Face of Opposition

Another important feature of the conversion was the conflict that followed the independent initiative shown by the Pulayas. The nature and effect of this conflict had wider implications,

Both individual and group initiatives by Pulayas to place themselves under Christian instruction met with stiff resistance and organised violence from Syrians as well as Nairs. In several places, Syrian and Nair landowners "consulted together about slaves attending schools on Sundays and resolve to put a stop to it."46 The landlords were concerned about the rising rebellious attitude among attached Pulaya labourers and were "strongly prejudiced against (Pulayas) being taught, under the erroneous idea that when taught they will cease to work." Hence their policy was "to terrify the Pulayas" from availing themselves of the opportunities of instruction. However, the united action of the landlords, their tactics of intimidation and coercion, did not dampen the enthusiasm of the Pulayas who continued to show their defiance by attending Christian instruction.

Initially the landlords attempted to burn down the "slave schools" and places of worship where Pulayas received Christian instruction and were eventually baptised. Often baptisms were followed by acts of violence. At other times Pulayas were forcibly driven away from their places of regular Sunday worship. Once after a "slave school" had been burnt down twice by the landlords, the Pulayas assembled at the usual worship time and stood "among the ashes" and one declared, "It was here we first found the Saviour, and here, on this spot, we will still worship him." Missionary advice to seek another place was rejected by the Pulayas, who continued to show their defiance. On yet another occasion a Pulaya rejected the suggestion that he could leave his home on account of the violence of the landlords towards their "slave school" and declared, "I will not leave the spot: they may murder me, but it shall be upon th(is) ground."47 As a result of these attacks, Pulayas showed an "anxious desire to secure" their places of worship and instruction. Although resources were scanty, in several places they offered small landed properties for the erection of schools.

Continued defiance created tension between Pulayas and the landlords. The conflicts involved physical violence, kidnapping, flogging and confining the victims in the custody of the landlords. Threats of murder and physical violence leading to near deaths of some Pulayas were also reported by the missionaries.

In almost all cases reported by the missionaries, it is evident that the Pulayas sought their help in dealing with conflicts. In many instances Pulayas traveled great distances to reach missionaries, seeking active intervention in a particular case or redress of grievances against the landlords. Due to lack of proper witnesses, the missionaries were unable to take up many cases of oppression brought to their attention. However, those they did take up had a considerable impact of missionary activity in the area and growing confidence of Pulayas. Missionaries displayed extraordinary courage in intervening on behalf of the Pulayas, as in effect, it was an attack on the entire patron-client system. Sometimes missionaries did not hesitate to strike a militant note in their approach to certain powerful landlords. Missionaries encouraged Pulaya converts and those under Christian instruction to take these conflicts to the local authorities, giving them sufficient outward support. Where this was ineffective, the missionaries themselves intervened.49 Many of the cases thus ended up in the hands of the British Resident or the Dewan.

In a prominent case in Kottayam, a Syrian Christian landlord was fined and punished for kidnapping a Pulaya convert as a result of the united action of a group of Pulayas. Hawksworth gave support to the Pulayas in their opposition to the landlord’s action.

When local authorities failed to act, Hawksworth took a statement from the people concerned and sent it to the Dewan, "recommending that the defendant should be fined ten shillings." The Dewan raised the fine to two pounds and ten shillings. The local officer "set sail accordingly" and fined the Syrian Christian landlord three pounds. Hawksworth concluded: "A statutory dread has been infused into the minds of those who might otherwise have continued to persecute; and the converts, recognising the hand of God, in the midnight rescue and the final decision, thank God and take courage."50 In another case a Tahsildar was forced by Andrews to reverse his unjust punishment of a Pulaya. Andrews, an ardent supporter of the Pulayas’ efforts for emancipation, reported: "My poor people rejoiced that the hands of the oppressor had been broken."51 Given that this was a region where the Pulayas were suppressed, the readiness of the missionaries to stand up for their rights is impressive.

The missionaries’ local influence and the mere threat of intervention were sufficient to create "fear" among the landlords. In some cases, landlords came directly "to beg pardon" of the missionaries in order to resolve conflicts and sometimes to forestall intervention from higher authorities. When such tactics failed, landlords were made to pay fines or to build "slave schools." Andrews’s evaluation of one such case where a Nair was fined, made to build a "substantial prayer house" for his "slaves" and to write a conciliatory letter to the missionary agreeing not to "molest" the slaves anymore is revealing. He reports that the Nair landlord had "learnt a lesson --that his power was limited by another. . . ," now he found himself beaten by those "dogs and slaves. Some twenty slaves (he continued) have stood firm through all this fiery opposition, and if the persecution somewhat lessens I am told great numbers will join. . ."52 Events such as these demonstrate how powerful missionaries could become in local society. They also illustrated how Pulayas could continue their acts of defiance with outside help.

6. Conclusion

From the history of the Pulaya conversion movement in Travancore, what emerges uppermost is the development of social consciousness of a community in the various stages and changes of society in transition. Self-realisation of oppression and slavery naturally lead to finding ways and means of liberation. Forms of protest are evident in traditions, religious rituals, folk arts, and subversionary acts. An ideology of liberation slowly builds up, inspired mainly by the winds of the 19th century change which reach Travancore through the missionaries. The oppressed saw the doors opening for them as a way out of the misery with the success of the anti-slave campaign championed by the missionaries. An alliance is forged. For thousands, conversion was an act of social protest heralding exit from the inhumanity of the caste system.

Notes:

1. G.A. Oddie, "Christian Conversion in Telugu Country, 1860-1900: A Case Study of one Protestant Movement in the Godavary-Krishna Delta," Indian Economic and Social History Review, Vol. XII, No. 1, Jan-March, 1975.

John C.B. Webster, The Christian Community and Change in Nineteenth Century North India (Delhi, 1976). D. Forrester, Caste and Christianity(London, 1970). S. Manickam, The Social Setting of Christian Conversion in South India (Wiesbaden, 1977). J.W. Gladstone, Protestant Christianity and People’s Movement in Kerala (Trivandrum, 1984).

2. T.K. Oommen, Protest and Change (New Delhi, 1990), pp. 256f.

3. B. Hjejle, "Slavery and Agricultural Bondage in South India," Scandinavian Economic History Review, Vol. XV, Nos. I & II, 1967, pp. 71-126. Ranjit Guha, Elementary Aspects of Peasant Insurgency in Colonial India (Delhi, 1983).

4. LA.K. lyer, The Cochin Tribes and Castes. Vol. I (Madras, 1909), p. 97.

5. George Matthan, Journal 31 Dec. 1850 ClO/161/21, CMS Archives.

6. iyer, The Cochin Tribes, p. 97f.

7. Census of Travancore, 1875, p. 105.

8. Census, 1875, p. 206.

9. iyer, The Cochin Tribes, p. 120f.

10. J. Knowles, "Rescue the Pariah," The Harvest ReId, IV, 1892-93, p. 135.

11. Census, 1891, p. 105. Also see Kusuman, Slavery in Travancore, 1973, pp. 79f.

12. Census, 1891, p. 189.

13. Robin Jeffrey, The Decline of Nayar Dominance (London, 1976), p. 29.

14. The Missionary Register (1852), pp. 444f.

15. Joan P. Mencher, 1964. Also see Kathleen Gough, "Cults of the Dead Among the Nayars," in Milton Singer (ed.), Traditional India (Philadelphia, 1959), p. 264. 16. Guha, Elementary Aspects. (1992), pp. 33f.

17. See an excellent study of dalit songs and poems by Paul Chirakarod and others, Dalit Kavithagal: On, Padanam (Tiruvalla, 1992), pp. 95-99.

18. James C. Scott, Weapons of the Weak (1990), pp. xv-xxiv.

19. See for details, Ayyar, "Pulappedi and Mannappedi in South Travancore," Man in India. Vol. ii, No.1, 1927, pp. 22-29.

20. C12/M23, p. 273, CMSA.

21. The Missionary Register, 1854, p. 472.

22. Matthan, Journal 31 March, 1853, Ci2/0161/23, CMSA.

23. The Missionary Register, 1852, pp. 444f.

24. Baker, Report on 4 Aug. 1855, Ci2/029/46, CMSA.

25. Proceedings of the CMS, 1855-56, p. 131.

26. Moddox, Annual Letter 11 Nov. 1871, C12/01 56/16, CMSA. CMS Record, Vol. ii, 1872, p. 177.

27. Andrews, Journal 30 May 1858, c.12/23/15, CMSA.

28. CMS Record, New Series, Vol. III, 1858, p. 330.

29. CMS Report, 1856-57, pp. 141-142.

30. Matthan Letter to P.S. Royston 11 Aug. 1858, C12/M26, CMSA. CMS Report, 1856-57, p. 140.

31. Hawksworth in The Missionary Register, 1852, p. 444.

32. Samuel Mateer, Native Life in Travancore, London, 1883, pp. 33f.

33. Oommen Marmmen, Journal 30 June 1857, C1210157/II, CMSA.

34. For a discussion of "the system of territorial segmentation" and the effects of social change on such old boundaries, see Eric J. Miller, "Caste and Territory in Malabar," American Anthropologist, Vol. 56, No. 3, June 1954, pp. 418-19.

35. Baker Jr., The Hillarrians, 1862, p. 35.

36. CMS Record, Vol.-VI, 1861, p. 280.

37. A. F. Painter, ‘The Pulayas of Travancore," in The Diocesan Gazette, April, 1882, p. 195.

38. CMS Record, Vol. XXIII, 1857, 0. 302, Headland, ‘The Rev. Henry Baker," in Brief Sketches, 1897, pp. 5f.

39. Oommen Marnrnen, Journal July 1858 to June 1859, c.12/0157/12, CMSA.

40. Annual Letter of W. Johnsons, 12 Nov. 1876, c.12/0141/22, CMSA.

41. Matthan, Journal, June 1856, c.12/0161/24, CMSA.

42. Andrews, Journal 21 Feb. 1858, c.12/023/14, p. 17, CMSA.

43. Andrews, Journal 1 Feb. 1858, c.12/023/14, p. 8, CMSA.

44. Annual Letter of George Matthan, 12 Feb. 1861, in CMS Record, Vol. VI, 1861, p. 280.

45. Proceedings of CMS, 1861-63.

46. Koshi, Journal, 22 July to Sept. 1857, c.12/01/47, CMSA.

47. The Missionary Register, 1855, pp. 477-480.

48. Andrews, Journal, Aug. 1858, p. 9, c.12/23/16, CMSA.

49. CMS Record, VII, 1862, p. 289.

50. CMS Record, VI, 1862, p. 256.

51. CMS Record, New Series VII, 1861, p. 272.

52. Annual Letter of Andrews, 7 Jan. 1862, p. 3f. c.12/023/26 CMSA.

 

In Piam Memoriam — The Death of God After Ten Years

October 1965 is as good a time as any from which to date the media event known as death-of-God theology. Ted Fiske’s article in the New York Times was followed, in less than a week, by a notice in Time, and that attention was sufficient to transform a few articles and reviews, plus an extended personal correspondence between Tom Altizer and me, into a media event.

From its beginnings, radical theology was both Christian (van Buren, Hamilton) and religious (Altizer) -- and later Jewish and religious (Rubenstein). At its core was the proposal that attention be given to the doctrine of God. Radical theology’s intention was theological; its effect was to tempt many to turn from theology to the world.

I

Radical theology was not only Christian, religious and theological; it was in many ways profoundly conservative. It accepted the portrait of God found in the neoconservative theology of the period -- the God of Job, Second Isaiah, Augustine, Luther and Kierkegaard -- as the portrait of the God with whom we must deal. Radical theology said No to this God and insisted that it remained Christian (or Jewish), religious and theological in so doing. It spawned a genuinely radical set of movements to its left: new post-Christian monotheisms and, of course, new religious polytheisms closely related to the rising religiosity of the counterculture. In general, mainstream theologians who attacked radical theology as a threat to the church were more accurate than those who proposed friendly reinterpretations of what the radicals really meant: i.e., "What they are really saying is that we need to reformulate our ideas of God; the old theism has to go."

Mainstream Protestantism, in general, went with Humpty Dumpty; radical theology was Alice.

"There’s glory for you."

"I don’t know what you mean by glory," Alice said.

Humpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously. "Of course you don’t -- till I tell you. I meant ‘there’s a nice knockdown argument for you.’"

"But ‘glory’ doesn’t mean ‘a nice knockdown argument,’" Alice objected.

"When I use a word," Humpty Dumpty said, in rather a scornful tone, "it means just what I choose it to mean -- neither more nor less."

"The question is," said Alice, "whether you can make words mean so many different things."

"The question is," said Humpty Dumpty "which is to be master -- that’s all" [Through the Looking Glass, by Lewis Carroll].

So mainstream Protestants turned to hope, to play, to liberation, to find a god to whom it was easier to say Yes. What they found, of course, was a series of idols, the human mind being a perpetual factory of them. And Luther was again proven right: Entweder Gott oder Abgott (either God or idol). Besides, who could dare be so stodgy as to deny a dancing god? (I for one always had trouble with that dancing god, since the choreography seemed to have been done by Agnes DeMille.)

As Philip Rieff noted:

Theologians might well reconsider, therefore, who is more dangerous: Freud or Jung. Better a forthright enemy than an untrustworthy friend. Jung’s psychological religiosity is too strictly for therapeutics, those for whom a god is the need of needs. Freud declared that God did not exist -- and identified Him as the universal figure of authority. I am not sure whether one should not prefer Freud’s strong nonexistent God to Jung’s weak existent one [The Triumph of the Therapeutic: Uses of Faith After Freud (Harper & Row, 1968, p. 91)].

II

Radical theology stood, and still stands, balanced between an outmoded monotheism and a with-it polytheism, closer to (indeed, a species of) the former; between what the Victorians called faith and doubt, but closer to faith. When God died, he came back as a metaphor and brought with him all the old gods, also as metaphors.

Radical theology had only tenuous connections with secular theology, which was primarily a reformist species of the classical biblical theology of creation. On the other hand, radical theology and the experience of the death of God appear to have been profoundly connected to the outburst of American religiosity, Oriental and otherwise, in the late 1960s. To affirm the death of God is to remove the Mosaic-Calvinist censor from the door of the Holy of Holies, to allow that door to open, and -- without the presence of the custodian -- to let the demons in.

The death of God in 1965 served as psychological preparation for the black theology of the late 1960s. It made black theology possible as ideology, if not convincing as theology, for -- as James Baldwin had earlier observed in The Fire Next Time -- the God that died in 1965 was white.

The death of God in 1965 also made the feminist theology of the 1970s possible as ideology, if not convincing as theology, because it removed the masculine-aggressive principle from the Christian drama of redemption. In that sense, there was something Oedipal about the death of God. It may be that feminist theology will have to move from Oedipus to Orestes, who discovered that the corrupt mother had to be killed before the Furies could be tamed and the city purified.

What happened to the death-of-God theologians when the media event erupted? Some said, "Oh no, not me; I’m OK." Some said, "Sure." Many changed their professional locations for reasons that do not need to be spelled out. At that time I was working in a seminary in upper New York state. I saw my academic chair removed by my colleagues. No problem -- one can teach standing up. I next observed that I was not to be allowed to teach the required introductory course. I got the message: death of God for me; death of Christian character for them. Fair exchange. The students, at least, were splendid.

III

How does the death-of-God theologian see the continuing professional task? That task was and is threefold: (1) to examine authentic speech about God from the past, to discover what made it authentic; (2) to explore the reasons why such speech is impossible today; and (3) to monitor contemporary language and experience to determine the conditions under which authentic speech about God may reappear, to discern the new gods as they rise and fall, and to learn whether he, she or they are Christian, post-Christian or something else.

Radical theology was never particularly secular and relevant; nor was it immanentist. Current defenses of transcendence (today’s relevance) are irrelevant to the problem of God; they are evasions of it.

"Before God and with God we live without God" (Bonhoeffer from prison, July 16, 1944). In that statement one can discern the precise distance between Bonhoeffer and radical theology. Bonhoeffer’s view is dialectical, so much so that one suspects he is working with two different conceptions of God. Radical theology took the dialectical statement and made it historical. "Before God" referred to the past (memory) and perhaps to the future; "without God" came to describe the present. Not only Bonhoeffer but the whole mystical tradition lies very close indeed to death-of-God theologies today.

The idea of God continues to haunt the work of the radical theologians, putting them in many ways closer to the new conservatives than to the liberal revisionists who busily analyze our experience in order to spin off plausible intimations of transcendence. God has always lurked behind Altizer’s affirmation of God’s death, and God does appear, after his death, as the totality of a guiltless and unrepressed life. For Rubenstein, God merges with that death to which all life inevitably moves; to be homo religiosus is to be aware of death. I would be inclined to affirm Eros with Altizer, and Thanatos with Rubenstein, without trying to give either of those gods new or divine names.

I see the radical theologian as critic of all the new polytheisms and syncretisms, as well as of the new archaisms (whether emerging from Hartford or any other life insurance center): standing like some latter-day Moses or Calvin before the unoccupied space once filled by the Christian God prohibiting re-entry by either demon or spirit) murmuring piously, "He is not here; see the place where they laid him." This stance is an obedience, almost a faith, which insists that No is the proper word to utter in our time to the Christian God. You see, we are still on speaking terms.

Death-of-God theologians today are a modest and relatively confident intellectual-spiritual community doing now, only more carefully and monographically, what they began to do ten years ago. The one thing this community does not do is to weep in print about "What Has Happened to Theology?" Whatever vocational and professional bruises have been delivered (all those honorary D.D. degrees we didn’t receive!), "the death of God" has proved a liberating and stimulating religious event; it is still the decisive theological event of our time.

Peace and Reconciliation: A Theological Reflection

I was entranced the first time I looked down a gun-sight with a finger on the trigger. It seemed to me the most private, the most intense moment of conversation with oneself, so to speak, with all that split-second of right decision coming and going all the time, almost answering the movements of one’s mind. It wasn’t at all what I was expecting. I feel that the religious excitement that is supposed to come to people who meditate on the flame of a single dark candle in an otherwise dark room was no greater than the pleasure I felt when I looked down a gun-sight and become very close to my own mind and consciousness. In a second the scale of things could alter and I would be lost in something like a private universe.

The fashion of peace

Peace is in danger of becoming fashionable. Is there anything wrong with something that ought to be at the forefront of all our thinking, consciousness and action becoming fashionable? Isn’t fashion a way of making a statement, a way of indicating the trends, concerns and attitudes of society? However – isn’t it true that fashion is somehow elitist? Isn’t it a fact that it offers to us ways of thinking, behaving and acting that are played out on a vast arena by a privileged few, while the teeming others can only look on, wonder, stare, or pass by with incomprehension or contempt? Are we in danger of embracing issues and themes that, for better or worse, become part of the global agenda and hence become a fixed idea or an indispensable part of the agenda, indispensable at least for now? Fashions come, fashions go – today’s newspapers are used to make paper bags tomorrow (before the advent of plastic, to be twirled into a cone to hold the rice grains, or to wrap up vegetables, meat and fish!). Is our present concentration on peace destined to go in the same direction?

I am not trying to be cynical or to undermine the relevance and importance of our meeting. It is when we recognize that the issue and practice of peace is an enduring, lasting, acute theme, and that it is the seemingly permanent persistence of the absence of peace and reconciliation that impels us to seek to understand, analyse and debate about the facets of peace, that this conference takes on an urgency that is necessary and compelling. Certain things ought to be put in perspective right away. We are engaged in a human discourse, a discourse that tries to make sense of things, a discourse that evokes the concept of God in order to inject sense into the situation. Which situation? A situation in which human beings are comparatively very, very young new-comers to the arena of the existence of the world, but a very small time-frame where much has been done, which is capable of erasing the gigantic time frame in a hail of nuclear madness and violent self-destruction. Let us try to place things in perspective:

Remarkable and significant as is the emergence of self-conscious persons by natural processes from the original ‘hot big bang’ from which the universe has expanded over the last 10-20 thousand million years, this must not be allowed to obscure another fact about humanity, namely its relatively recent arrival in the universe, even on a time-scale of the history of the Earth. Although modern homo sapiens had humanoid, tool-making ancestors …, our species only appeared in its present form 30,000 years ago. How recent our arrival is can be realized if one takes the age of the Earth as two days of 48 ‘hours’ (1 such ‘hour’ = 100 million years): then homo sapiens appears only at the last stroke of midnight of the second day. However, living organisms had existed for some 2000 million of more years (= over 20 ‘hours’ on the above scale) before this, our relatively late arrival. The evidence is that biological evolution has proceeded continuously since that distant time by evolution of populations of living organisms through natural selection of best procreators. Great as is the significance of the emergence of self-conscious persons within the very fabric of the universe for any reflection on its possible meaning and purpose, this must not lead us to underplay the significance also of the rest of the universe and of all other living organisms to God as Creator – even though we are able to depict only in imagination the kind of delight that God may be conceived to have in the fecund multiplicity and variety or created forms.

This quotation raises several issues:

  • Has peace, or the lack of it, been a particularly human problem? Are we attempting to relativize peace and reconciliation by placing it within an extremely broad canvas of cosmic history?
  • Within the extremely narrow sliver of time when human beings have occupied centre-stage on world history, why is it that this issue has come to dominate our thoughts and actions? Is it that we are biologically pre-disposed toward the ‘survival of the fittest’, which implies that some have to win at the cost of the extermination of others?
  • If God is brought into the equation, in the way testified to in the quotation, then what are the theological implications of assuming that peace is necessarily what God has in mind for the future of humankind?
  • Is the desire for peace a manifestation of psychological longing and wish-projection which human beings put forth in their infantile desire to return to the pristine purity of an imaginary garden of Eden, serpents and all?

The present volatile situation, worrying because of the deliberate lack of ideological depth and clarity, and annoying because of the language of messianic self-righteousness from both sides, continues to throw up the issues of peace and reconciliation in an even more urgent manner. Listen to two verses on weaponization from the 1988 Sahitya Akademie Award winning ‘novel in verse’ The Golden Gate [1986] by Vikram Seth:

Those who devise these weapons – decent,

Adjusted, family-minded folk –

Don’t think they plan death. Their most recent

Bomb (which, as an engaging joke,

They dubbed ‘the cookie cutter’) batters

Live cells and yet – this is what matters –

Leaves building and machines intact –

This butchering brainspawn is in fact

Soothingly styled a ‘radiation

Enhancement device’ by these same men.

Blind in their antiseptic den

To the obscene abomination

Of the refined ampoules of hate

Their ingenuity helps create,

They go to work, attend a meeting,

Write an equation, have a beer,

Hail colleagues with a cheerful greeting,

Are conscientious, sane, sincere,

Rational, able, and fastidious.

Through hardened casings no invidious

Tapeworm of doubt, no guilt, no qualm

Pierces to sabotage their calm.

When something’s technically attractive,

You follow the conception through,

That’s all. What if you leave a slew

Of living dead, of radioactive

‘Collateral damage’ in its wake?

It’s just a job, for heaven’s sake.

Just a job? - The job of fashioning peace? Where do we go from here? - A humanly ordained and initiated ‘big bang’? What does one do when the possibility of peace and reconciliation are ruled out at the very moment of birth itself - a situation where some people are driven to such despair that they can only poignantly and evocatively cry out:

Mother, you used to tell me

when I was born

your labour was very long.

The reason, mother,

the reason for your long labour:

I, still in your womb, was wondering

Do I want to be born –

Do I want to be born at all

in this land?

Where all paths raced horizonwards

but to me were barred

All of you lay, eyes fixed on the sky

then shut them, saying

calmly, yes,

the sky has a prop, a prop!

Your body covered

with generations of dire poverty

Your head pillowed

on constant need

You slept at night

and in the day you writhed

with empty fists tied to your breast!

Here you are not supposed to say

that every human being comes

from the union of man and woman

Here, nobody dare

broaden the beaten track.

You ran round and round yourself

exclaiming YES, of course

the earth is round, is round.

Mother, this is your land

flowing with water

Rivers break their banks

Lakes brim over

And you, one of the human race

must shed blood

struggle and strike

for a palmful of water.

I spit on this great civilization

Is this land yours, mother,

because you were born here?

Is it mine

because I was born to you?

Must I call this great land mine

love it

sing its glory?

Sorry, mother, but truth to tell

I must confess I wondered

Should I be born

Should I be born into this land?

Is it possible to speak of peace when choices are simply not available or cruelly denied? Is it possible to speak of reconciliation when there is neither motivation, nor desire for reconciliation, on the part of those who have fostered a climate of suspicion and hate? No, in spite of the compulsions that make of the desire for peace a fashion statement, the issue is too important to be allowed to deteriorate thus. This is a persistent, permeating and permanent concern that has pervaded and continues to pervade human consciousness in an intense manner.

A Piece of the [P]ashion

The section above concluded with an almost mystical statement as to the reality of the intensity of the passion for peace that drives human beings. However, there is a contradiction in such an affirmation. While it may be possible to argue about something that binds all humans together in an essential oneness, one must not lose sight of the reality that it is precisely in the in-betweenness of human beings that the issue regarding the lack of peace and the necessity for reconciliation ought to be located. At this point it may be necessary to enter a caveat – do we really know what we mean when we talk about "peace" and do we mean what we say when we talk about "reconciliation." Kwame Anthony Appiah tells us the charming and instructive story of a friend of his, who, confined to a hospital bed, created a subject index to Thomas Kuhn’s The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, where she identified at least twenty-one, if not more, senses in which the word "paradigm" was used by Kuhn. This is instructive for a large number of theologians in India, especially those who so easily and so superficially use the word "paradigm" in their writings. Similarly, one can be illumined in many different ways by tracing the word "peace" in a variety of its manifestations – biblical, economic, sociological and theological – among other senses. But one needs to know what we are talking about and not take refuge in slogans like "Peace is more than the absence of war," and hibernate there. Is there some kind of theological paradigm (!!) which helps us understand the ramifications of peace-talk and the actualisation of the reconciliation processes? Is there something concrete that can be said? Concrete? Can the concept of peace be so easily concretised? In an article on feminism, sexual violence and the law, Nivedita Menon argues that

the possibility of realizing the emancipatory impulse of feminism lies not in concretising and more fully defining the boundaries of ‘our bodies’ through law, but in accepting ‘the self’ as something that is negotiable and contestable. The indeterminacy of identity need not lead to political paralysis – on the contrary, it could dislocate feminist practice productively, from sterile engagement with legal discourse and hegemonic cultural productions of selfhood to a realm of radical doubt and constant negotiation of what constitutes ‘me’ as a ‘woman’ in some contexts. Emancipation itself must be recognized as disaggregated, split along different axes, just as identity is not merely a positive conglomerate of different subject positions, but an ever-temporary construction, forming anew at the intersections of shifting subject positions.

If this is so, what help does this offer to us as we attempt to pick up the pieces? Much has been said and much has been written about violence perpetuated against Christians. Much has been said and much has been written about violence perpetuated against others by Christians. Much still needs to be said and written about violence perpetuated by Christians against each other, because an analysis of such violence will help us to understand whether or not Christianity has contributed to the nurturing and fostering of peace. Talking about the fourth-century church Peter Brown writes

Christian controversies mobilized individual congregations of believers within each city, provoking, on occasion, major riots, and frequent processions and counterprocessions. All over the empire, Christian factionalism led to a perceptible increase in the climate of violence. Whether violence was widespread or not, accusations of violence were a standard feature of Christian polemics against rival Christian groups. Ammianus Marcellinus understandably concluded that Christian groups behaved to each other "like wild beasts."

Is then the understanding of peace linked to picking up the pieces? Is it just a task of recognizing, identifying and gathering up the pieces? Do we not need to ask about why there are so many pieces in the first place? How, where, when, with what intention and with what purpose did fragmentation emerge? Was there perhaps fragmentation all along? Is the task of "making peace" a futile activity? Theologically one needs to recognize that

The life that defines itself confidently in its ordered doing, and the life that steps aside from the painful question of meanings and continuities together form a pathology of the human world. They are the roots of violence and mutual rejection between people; they are both challenged and transformed in encounter with the crucified Jesus, and the ‘peace’ that we may hope for as a result of the act of God in the death of Jesus is something that stands against each of them alike.

Apart from this one needs to recognize how the "Constantinization" of the church has shaped the language of religious discourse. This is nowhere more evident than in the "Church History" of Eusebius, whose

theology changed dramatically from the time when he first began to draft his history of the church. After experiencing the events of his time and witnessing the political rise of Constantine and the defeat of the persecuting emperors, he no longer believed that persecution was merely the human consequence of the demon’s attempt to frustrate the divine message. God and emperors were active participants in a persecution, allowed, for a time, to be the vehicle of the chastening hand of God upon a church which needed to be corrected. God, however, would not permit the church to suffer for ever and raised up a Christ-like figure in the person of Constantine who, became not only the destroyer of God’s enemies (and his!) and the savior of the persecuted Christians but, as the first (truly) Christian emperor, brought together church and empire.

The coming together of church and empire has had enormous consequences for the ongoing life of the church. Biblical language, through which ran both imperial and protest trajectories, was now put to serve a particular imperial-triumphalistic framework. This was particularly evident in the dominant iconographic representations of Christ in the early church. "The Christ of Early Christian art is quite as elusive as the ‘historical’ Jesus. As in the written sources, so in the visual monuments Christ has many guises, depending on who is visualizing him. … If we remove the incubus of the imperial interpretation that has encumbered his image, the Christ who emerges is far more vigorous and more versatile than we had been led to believe. His rightful place is among the gods of the ancient world. It is with them that he engaged in deadly combat, and it is from them that he wrested his most potent attributes." The key words here are "deadly combat." Moving away from a narrow interpretation of seeing Christian iconography as developing the "emperor mystique" to seeing it as the "clash of gods" enables us to gain a better appreciation of the Christ in whom the interpretation of peace is located and who seems to reconcile by conquering.

At this point it is necessary to gain some clarity by problematizing what are normally taken to be simple binaries – clear and seemingly self-evident – like oppressor-oppressed and attempt to see if this almost taken-for-granted polarities are what have been responsible for the lack of progress in our quest for peace and reconciliation. That there is a "clash" is obvious. However, in seeing the big clash, in looking at the blurred larger picture, have we lost sight, deliberately or otherwise of the details. Does the devil indeed hide in the details? Listen to some disturbing words:

Those who have been traditionally empowered to speak feel relativized simply by having to compete with other voices. Made aware of their own complicity in the silencing of others, they worry about losing a long-taken-for-granted privilege. The disempowered or newly empowered, on the other hand, seek to affirm a precariously established right. ‘Disempowered’ and ‘empowered’, furthermore, are relational terms; people can occupy diverse positions, being empowered on one axis, say that of class, but not on another, say that of race and gender. Instead of a simple oppressor/oppressed dichotomy we find a wide spectrum of complex relationalities of domination, subdomination and collaboration. At the extreme ends of this continuum, certainly, are groups respectively empowered along all the axes, on the one hand, and groups empowered along none of them, on the other. But even here there are no guarantees, for one’s ancestral community does not necessarily dictate one’s identifications and affiliations. It is not only a question of what one is or where one is coming from, but also of what one desires to be, where one wants to go and with whom one wants to go there.

With whom, then, do we pick up the pieces? Why? With whom have we collaborated? Has the politics of naming and identification resulted in the movement to reconciliation, of peoples, memories, shared realities and contested spaces? Where do we really want to go and with whom do we really want to go? What do we want to go there for and what is it that we hope to achieve? Are we driven by a passion for peace, a passion that undergirds and overarches our thoughts, desires and actions, or is it done out of a spirit of "time-pass"?

Fashioning Peace

Let me, finally, offer ten points for consideration, which I hope, will guide and lead our deliberations. Some of the points may be self-evident, but are nonetheless to be stated; some may require unpacking and some may appear to be tentative mumblings. All the same I present these with the hope that we who have gathered to talk about peace initiatives for a just society may perhaps find these thoughts useful:

  1. The desire for peace is most acutely felt where peace as a "physical" and experienced reality exists in an emaciated form.
  2. Where such a reality (as spelt out in 1) does not exist, either practically or experienced as such by those living in an illusory construction of the present ("our inviolable shores" ideology) the talk of peace tends to take on impractical ("brotherhood and sisterhood of all humankind") and essentialized ("the global village") colours.
  3. Where such a reality (as spelt out in 1) does exist, most often the blame for such a state of affairs is put on "outside" forces or on those minorities "inside" who do not conform to some kind of standardized understanding of a national norm.
  4. Ideologies of personal responsibility too easily overlook and tend to almost excuse the responsibility of the powerful few at the expense of an attributed, implicit or voluntarily borne guilt ("Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me").
  5. The valorization of the individual, nevertheless, is necessary, since it is the individual who experiences most intensely and who acts most explicitly in the mechanics of the reconciliation process.
  6. A theology of peace must take into consideration the reality that simple equations of peace=shanti=shalom serve more to obscure issues than to clarify them.
  7. Where this (6) is recognized, theology should serve to question inherited placid and self-contained analysis of "peace" and the easy reduction of reconciliation efforts to some kind of formula, which while seemingly easy to grasp and attractive ("JOY = Jesus, Others, Yourself") should be exposed for what it is – reducing faith to a formula, while ignoring the messiness of real life.
  8. In the run up to interposing a theological framework in a context where loud, brash, and strident voices seem increasingly determined to dictate not just terms, but theological justifications, the recovery of a theology of creation which does not shy away from addressing the reality of violence not just in the post-Fall narratives, but in the garden of Eden narratives, would go a long way in moving away from a romanticized vision of the wonders of a creation where goodness is the predominate theme, rather than confronting the realities lurking under the surface, hidden in the bushes, crouching at the door … .
  9. The prince of peace, whose birth spawned violence and whose violent death stands as an awe-producing sign and symbol of the brutality of death, through which, it is claimed, that we are incorporated into the mystery of salvation, deserves far better than he so often seems to receive. A recognition of the failures, rather than a projection of the "successes", an identification with the futility and frustration, rather than the smoothening over of the rough and jagged edges, a far greater emphasis in preaching and teaching on the physical reality of the incarnation, rather than on the almost supernatural divine being, would help us in the appropriation of the vision of the man who saw a different kind of tomorrow, not the tomorrow of Nostradamus, where we discover him after the event, but a tomorrow where the spirit of peace and reconciliation could triumph, despite … .
  10. The spirit of truth, leading us to new truth, into fresh creativity and transforming insight, a spirit that is prepared not only to blow where it wills, but blow from where it wills, a spirit that challenges the sterility of our thoughts and the indifferences of our actions, a spirit that reveals the finesse and polish with which we mask ourselves, a spirit groaning with desire and pain, the pain of despair or the pain of new birth, the birth of peace from the tragedies of the present, the tragedies of the past, the wreckages scattered through time, available as building material for the future – material that is not forgotten, nor wasted, nor ignored, nor overlooked, but available, to those who in the power of the spirit can discern, and through discernment, exemplify a new obedience to respond to the promptings of the spirit, gently prodding us to embody the spirit of peace and reconciliation … .

Infant versus Believers’ Baptism: Search for Ecumenical Understanding

Introduction:

"By the sacrament of baptism a person is truly incorporated into Christ and into his Church and is reborn to a sharing of the divine life. Baptism, therefore, constitutes the sacramental bond of unity existing among all who through it are reborn. Baptism, of itself, is the beginning, for it is directed toward the acquiring of fullness of life in Christ. It is thus ordered to the profession of faith, to the full integration into the economy of salvation, and to Eucharistic communion. Instituted by the Lord himself, baptism, by which one participates in the mystery of his death and resurrection, involves conversion, faith, the remission of sin, and the gift of grace."[2]

Although the above statement reflects a carefully reasoned out theological position, and incorporates the concern for unity, in actual fact churches all over the world, including churches in India, continue to struggle with the meaning and implications, as well as the practice of baptism.[3]

One of the major questions that continues to dominate discussions on baptism is the question regarding the relationship between the understanding of baptism as the basis for the unity of the church and the reality of the divergences between those churches who hold to the reality of infant baptism and those churches who stress the necessity of believer's baptism. In a fine article analysing various aspects of baptism, Dagmar Heller points out that "[t]he greatest divergence evident in the responses [of the churches to the BEM document[4]] concerns the question of the practice of infant baptism over against the practice of adult baptism."[5] With this introduction, let us move on to a consideration of the BEM document and also look back at some of the stages of the ecumenical journey, and also follow some of the post-BEM developments.[6] The specific issue of infant and believers baptism will also be studied. The article will conclude with some questions related to baptism in the Indian context.

The BEM Document and its Optimism:

In 1982, the Faith and Order Commission of the World Council of Churches, following a long and arduous journey, published the document entitled "Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry," following a meeting in Lima, Peru, where representatives of "virtually all major church traditions," including "Eastern Orthodox, Oriental Orthodox, Roman Catholic, Old Catholic, Lutheran, Anglican, Reformed, Methodist, United, Disciples, Baptist, Adventist and Pentecostal,"[7] reached theological convergence on various issues regarding baptism, eucharist and ministry. This major ecumenical document[8] has, since its adoption, "led to a process of discussion, exchange and response which is of major ecumenical significance."[9]

The following quotation on baptism from the BEM document, accentuates the longing and illustrates the great desire of the ecumenical movement to move towards convergence in the understandings of the churches with regard to what could be considered some of the basic convictions  of Christianity:

Administered in obedience to our Lord, baptism is a sign and seal of our common discipleship. Through baptism, Christians are brought into union with Christ, with each other  and with the Church of every time and place. Our common baptism, which unites us to Christ in faith, is thus a basic bond of unity.[10] 

With regard to baptism, the BEM document itself recognizes in the commentary section that

 

The inability of the churches mutually to recognize their various practices of baptism as sharing in the one baptism, and their actual  dividedness in spite of mutual baptismal recognition, have given dramatic visibility to the broken witness of the Church. ... The need to recover baptismal unity is at the heart of the ecumenical task as it is central for the realization of genuine partnership within the Christian communities.[11]

Regarding the baptism of believers and infants the hope was expressed in the commentary part that "[t]he differences between infant and believers' baptism become less sharp when it is recognized that both forms of baptism embody God's own initiative in Christ and express a response of faith made within the believing community."[12]

This means that, on the one hand, there was a growing desire to achieve some kind of commonly agreed upon basis on which the churches can faithfully witness; on the other hand, there was a growing frustration with the seeming inability to come to terms with the  hope testified to by Jesus "that all may be one" (John 17: 21), a hope which remained more a dream than a  reality.[13] This unfulfilled dream, however, did not offer a reason to stagnate in helpless fatalism, but to acknowledge that the "aims and activities" of the ecumenical movement included a recognition that

The grace of God has impelled members of many Churches and ecclesial Communities, especially in the course of the present century, to strive to overcome the divisions inherited from the past and to build anew a communion of love by prayer, by repentance and by asking pardon of each other for sins of disunity past and present, by meeting in practical forms of cooperation and in theological dialogue.[14]

It is clear that the BEM document was an attempt to consciously, creatively, sincerely and prayerfully to face up to the challenges of the time and to offer to the churches a document, which while not being in a position to satisfy everyone and reflect every shade of opinion, nevertheless, optimistically looked forward to a time of greater ecumenical interaction, moving beyond "the false ecumenical solution of a comfortable denominationalism in which the churches each tend their own gardens, careful not to bother or insult others, but in no way living out or even seeking a truly common life."[15]

 

 

Approaches to BEM: One Example:

In 1979, a consultation "inaugurated" by the Faith and Order Commission of the World Council of Churches, which was held at Louisville, Kentucky, at the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, brought together representatives of the paedo-baptist and believer-baptist traditions "to reflect on some kind of consensus in the understanding and practice of baptism."[16] This was a sincere and open attempt to set out not only the theological understanding of that which divided various traditions, one from the other, but also to suggest theological and practical guidelines toward overcoming such divisions.

This is indicated by the fact that along with one article entitled "The Authority and Justification for Infant Baptism,"[17] there was another entitled "The Authority and Justification for Believers' Baptism."[18] The writer who wrote on infant baptism pleaded that the

scandalous division over something as basic and fundamentally simple as Christian initiation must stop; it devastatingly hinders the mission of the Church to evangelize the world according to the Great Commission of Christ; it keeps churches from sharing each other's Christian riches to their mutual great impoverishment. Pedobaptists must therefore rise above inadequate understandings of original sin and the grace of baptism itself and resolutely refuse to baptize infants whose parents give no reasonable promise of Christian nurture; believer baptists must resolutely resist the temptation to build their Christian identity exclusively on the practice and theology of New Testament baptism and to maintain it on a once legitimate but now obsolete critique of sixteenth and seventeenth century Church-State baptismal practices.[19]

The writer who wrote on believers' baptism pragmatically suggested that

In a time when Christians are endeavouring to establish full recognition of each other's Churches various solutions appear to be possible. (1) Baptists should recognise the legitimacy of infant baptism where it is followed by profession of faith and acceptance into full church membership. (2) Paedobaptists should recognize the legitimacy of baptism on profession of faith of those baptized in infancy.[20]

One of the obvious difficulties with these suggestions is that the fundamental issue as to how the individual churches themselves have internalized different understandings of baptism as being a part of their existence and self-identity, an existence and identity which has very often been at least partially shaped as a reaction to the teachings propounded by other churches, has not been adequately addressed.

The BEM Document and the Variety of Responses:

It was clear to all those involved in the effort leading up to the production and publication of the BEM document that although in one sense it marked the culmination of a difficult journey, it also signalled the beginning of another journey, no less difficult. The document was sent to all member churches, asking them "to prepare an official response to this text at the highest appropriate level of authority, whether it be a council, synod, conference, assembly or other body."[21] That is to say, it was recognised that the reception of the document would be the ultimate test of its value and worth. The responses were collected in six volumes, which indicate the range and diversity of opinions.[22] It is clear that the process of responding to the BEM document, and the insights that it contains, has not been free of friction and even hostility. The Faith and Order Commission  points out that "the critical comments and suggestions for further clarification occupy more space in the responses than the positive affirmations, which are usually expressed, however, in a clear and encouraging manner."[23]

In the summary of these responses to the BEM document, in the section on "Baptism of believers and infants," some of the important points raised included

- the question as to the sharp contrast between "infant" and "believer," in the sense that the baptism of an infant within the context of a believing community can also be characterised as "believer's baptism";

- the question regarding the claim made in BEM (IV. A. 11) that in the New Testament what is most clearly attested is "baptism on personal profession of faith";

- the question as to whether the BEM text "has too easily settled for compromise and too easily dismissed a fundamental incompatibility between infant and adult believer's baptism";

- the question regarding the baptism of the handicapped, "who lack sufficient intellectual capacity to make a mature profession of faith";

- the question regarding a theological foundation for the "unrepeatability" of baptism, and the practical implications of this for those churches who do not regard the baptism of believing adults, who had been baptised as children, as "re-baptism".[24]

All this indicates that even in the period immediately after the publication of the BEM document there was guarded optimism coupled with a plea not to over-simplify complex issues.

BEM and Beyond:

There is an increasing attempt by churches belonging to different confessional families, groupings of those oriented in a particular theological direction, or even by individual churches themselves, to engage in bilateral or multilateral dialogues, where specific issues regarding  the doctrines and practices that continue to be both theological and practical irritants, like the practice of Baptism or the existence of mixed marriages are discussed, analysed and debated, and attempts made to produce consensus documents for further study and action.[25]  This does not mean that such conversations and attempts are oriented merely towards the relational praxis of the churches in the contemporary context, without taking into consideration the history of the churches, and their Biblical and Patristic heritage.[26] The ecumenical movement has taken seriously the meaning of the Apostolic Faith in today's context,[27] especially as it is related to the ecumenical  significance  of the creedal formulations of the Church.[28]  All this means that there is a dynamic attempt being made to integrate the varying concerns of the different member churches in the ecumenical movement  as it relates to their ongoing life, work, and witness.  Günther Gassmann writes:

The discussion on baptism, eucharist and ministry  have been at the centre of the Faith and Order movement and Commission from the very beginning. Differences in the understanding and practice of these three foundational expressions of the life of the church have contributed to the divisions between the churches and are still a barrier to eucharistic communion. Consequently, the search for consensus and convergence on these three issues and the common understanding that mutual recognition of baptism, eucharist and ministry is an essential requirement and expression of the visible unity of the church have marked the work of Faith and Order since 1927.[29]

As an example from within the ecumenical movement, the Orthodox position on the interrelationship between the Spirit and Baptism can be quoted from an article entitled "Orthodox Reflections on the Assembly Theme," where it is affirmed that

[b]uilding upon basic human values, the Spirit prepares human persons for the reception of the gospel and salvation in Christ through baptism.  As the water of baptism is exorcised of evil and becomes a vehicle for the sanctification of creation, so those baptized in the sanctified waters and sealed with the Spirit receive the power of the Spirit to confront evil and the problems facing the world today ....[30]

At the seventh Assembly of the World Council of Churches held in Canberra in 1991, an attempt was made to describe what unity meant for the churches in today's context. This statement The Unity of the Church  as Koinonia: Gift and Calling,[31] among other things, called upon all churches "to recognize each other's baptism on the basis of the BEM document ... ." The Faith and Order Commission, in taking this call and mandate seriously, pointed out that

[a]mong the most positive elements in the movement towards koinonia is the convergence in our understanding of baptism, and especially the common affirmation of baptism as incorporation into the common life in Christ, in koinonia. (...)  In spite of this growing convergence, some questions remain ... As regards baptism, these questions concern not only different understandings of baptism and its sacramental nature, but also different conceptions of the relationship of baptism to faith, the action of the Holy Spirit and membership of the Church.[32]

Given this reality of promise and potential on the one hand, and pitfalls and problems, on the other, it is clear that Koinonia, at least with regard to baptism, continues to be an area of debate and dialogue, both within the ecumenical movement and in congregational situations.[33]

One other point that has to be made is that there are tentative attempts being made to address the issue raised by baptism in its relationship to conversion.[34] In an article entitled "The Concept of Conversion in the Ecumenical Movement: A Historical and Documentary Survey",[35] Ans van der Bent points out that "the time is overdue for the church to examine its doctrine of conversion carefully and to subject its language to the test of both theological and psychological enquiry."[36]  He refers to the study document prepared for the fourth assembly of the WCC in Uppsala in 1968 by Paul Löffler entitled Conversion to God and Service to Man, where Löffler wrote "... conversion and baptism, while linked with the entry into the church, do not serve its interests but the larger purpose of God for the whole creation."[37] In concluding his survey , van der Bent makes a soteriological comment:

All Christian traditions do not suffice to proclaim fully salvation to the world.  It also implies that the exchange of conversions  between Christians and people of other living faiths cannot render God's love for the whole human race totally transparent. The openings of individual heart's to God, the obedient mission and ministry of the churches and the liberating search for a pluralistic theology of faiths are but adumbrations of the one God who is the author and the completer of all salvation.[38]

Both Löffler's comment and van der Bent's point tend towards an inclusivistic understanding of salvation. Therefore it would be important to take seriously the comment from Stanley J. Samartha, who asks why words like mission and conversion evoke dread in countries in Asia and Africa today, and goes on to say

[c]onversion, instead of being a vertical movement toward God, a genuine renewal of life, has become a horizontal movement of groups of people from one community to another, very often backed by economic affluence, organizational strength and technological power.  It also seriously disrupts the political life of the country by influencing the voting patterns of people.  Why then should Christians be surprised when the very words mission and conversion provoke so much anxiety, suspicion, and fear?[39]   

Infant and Believer's Baptism: The Example of the Church of North India:

The Church of North India, which came into existence as a united church in 1970, as a union of former Anglicans, Baptists, Brethren, Disciples, Methodists (British and Australasian), Presbyterians and Congregationalists, is one of the few denominations in the world which makes space for the practice of either infant or believer's baptism within the one church.[40] In the constitution under Section V: The Sacraments of the Church, Sub-Section: A. Baptism, Clause 4, we read:

In as much as the Church of North India will have within its membership both persons who practise Infant Baptism in the sincere belief that this is in harmony with the mind of the Lord, and those whose conviction it is that the Sacrament can only properly be administered to a believer, both Infant Baptism and Believer's Baptism shall be accepted as alternative practices in the Church of North India.[41]

The Constitution goes on to discuss how those baptised in one of these two ways can then become a communicant member.

Here we have an example of how it has been possible, both in theological and practical terms, to uphold the validity of the alternate means of understanding and practising baptism within the wider framework of the unity of the church. What is needed now is a detailed qualitative analysis of how the vision has translated into reality within the CNI.

Lingering Questions Regarding Baptism in India Today:

Although this paper has been concerned with tracing the issue regarding infant and believer's baptism within the ecumenical movement, other important points regarding baptism in the Indian context cannot be brushed aside. The important point regarding baptism and its relation to our neighbours of other faiths or of no faith at all, is one such. Stanley J. Samartha, in an article entitled "The Holy Spirit and  People of Other Faiths" points out, after an analysis of scriptural citations regarding baptism and the Holy Spirit, that "the possibility of the Spirit being present and active among those who are not baptized, and in communities outside the visible boundaries of the institutional church, should be left open rather than closed."[42] This is a question that continues to provoke impassioned, and sometimes emotional, debate, both at the local level and in wider forums.[43]

One cannot overlook the pointed and provocative remark made by M. M. Thomas in one of his last published articles that "the question of giving to the unbaptised Christ-bhakts in other religious communities, a sense of full belonging to the spiritual fellowship of the church including participation in the sacrament of the Lord's Supper needs exploration."[44]

One also needs to examine the question regarding baptism and church membership. With regard to baptism and the church, a pertinent question comes from Leelamma Athyal who asks: "When the church gets more people to join its membership through baptism, it rejoices. But should it? Is it because the Church's membership has increased? Or, because some people have become the disciples of Jesus."[45] We need to ask whether after almost two thousand years of existence the church has recognised its orientation in terms of the Kingdom. If we pray, along with the writer of the Didache: "... let your church be gathered from the four corners of the earth into your kingdom,"[46] then how do we understand the sacrament of baptism in relation to the church and in relation to the kingdom? If the church is understood as "an agent to implement the mission of God,"[47] then what is the role of those who claim to be members of the church through baptism? If clergy and laity are called upon to remember that they "are in the church not for our own sake but for the mission to which God has called us,"[48] then does baptism bring with it the mission imperative? If mission is primarily understood in terms of the mission of God, then what is the link between this understanding of mission and the understanding of baptism as an entry into the institution called the church? Joseph Mattam writes:

Baptism understood as the expression and celebration of one's conversion to Christ, of one's acceptance of Christ and his ways, of one's attitudinal changes to form a more inclusive community with the one goal of a fuller humanity is still meaningful. Baptism understood as the celebration of a new vision of society, of a new pattern of relationship with people, God and the cosmos is still desirable. When we welcome people to baptism, in the context of the poor and dalits in India, it is a call to a counter culture (not a separate Christian culture) which will empower the poor and will help them change their self-image and transform their world view into a new cooperative pattern. It is in view of this mission that baptism becomes meaningful, not in terms of the salvation of few individuals.[49]

The sacrament of baptism has, down the ages, been a source of bitter controversy and dispute. As the church in India prepares to enter the new millennium, it is high time that the rich insights, the detailed discussions, the joyful and painful experiences, are all harvested, winnowed and sieved, so that a return to the sources, a reaching back, can truly be the means of moving forward toward an uncertain, yet challenging future, as a church grasped by the vision of unity, in this multi-cultural and multi-religious land of ours.

                 

Appendix:

Extract from the BEM Document on Baptism of Believers and Infants.[50]

IV. Baptismal Practice

A. Baptism of Believers and Infants

11.  While the possibility that infant baptism was also practised in the apostolic age cannot be excluded, baptism upon personal profession of faith is the most clearly attested pattern  in the New Testament documents.

In the course of history, the practice of baptism has developed in a variety of forms.  Some churches baptize infants brought by parents or guardians who are ready,  in and with the Church, to bring up the children in Christian faith.  Other churches practise exclusively the baptism of the believers who are able to make a personal confession of faith. Some of these churches encourage infants or children to be presented and blessed in a service which usually involves thanks-giving for the gift of the child and also the commitment of the mother and father to Christian parenthood.

All churches baptize believers coming from other religions or from unbelief who accept the Christian faith and participate in catechetical instruction. 

12.  Both the baptism of believers and the baptism of infants takes place in the Church as the community of faith. When one who can answer for himself or herself is baptized, a personal confession of faith will be an integral part of the baptismal service. When an infant is baptized, the personal response will be offered at a later moment in life.  In both cases, the baptized person will have to grow in the understanding of faith.  For those baptized upon their own confession of faith, there is always the constant requirement of a continuing growth of personal response in faith.  In the case of infants, personal confession is expected later, and Christian nurture is directed to the eliciting of this confession. All baptism is rooted in and declares Christ's faithfulness unto death.  It has its setting within the life and faith of the Church and, through the witness of the whole Church, points to the faithfulness of God, the ground of all life in faith.  At every baptism the whole congregation reaffirms its faith in God and pledges itself to provide an environment of witness and service.  Baptism should, therefore, always be celebrated and developed in the setting of the Christian community.

13. Baptism is an unrepeatable act. Any practice which might be interpreted as "re-baptism" must be avoided.

X          V

 



* The Rev. Dr. J. Jayakiran Sebastian is a Presbyter of the Church of South India, and Associate Professor in the Department of Theology and Ethics, at the United Theological College, Bangalore.

 

[2] This is the opening paragraph [92] of Chapter IV: "Communion in Life and Spiritual Activity among the Baptized,"  Section A: The Sacrament of Baptism," in Directory for the Application of Principles and Norms of Ecumenism, Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity (Vatican City, March 1993), p. 57.

 

[3] See my article, J. Jayakiran Sebastian, "Baptism and the Unity of the Church in India Today," in Michael Root and Risto Saarinen, eds., Baptism and the Unity of the Church (Grand Rapids, Michigan/Cambridge, U.K.: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.; Geneva: WCC Publications, 1998), pp. 196 - 207.

 

[4] The BEM document: Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry, Faith and Order Paper No. 111 (Geneva: World Council of Churches, 1982).

 

[5] Dagmar Heller,  "Baptism - the Basis of Church Unity? The Question of Baptism in Faith and Order", Ecumenical Review, Vol. 50, No. 4, October 1998, pp. 484.

 

[6] In analysing this, I have drawn upon the section "Baptism in the Contemporary Ecumenical Discussions," of my earlier work,  J. Jayakiran Sebastian, "... baptisma unum in sancta ecclesia...": A Theological Appraisal of the Baptismal Controversy in the Work and Writings of Cyprian of Carthage (Delhi: ISPCK, 1997). [Also published by Verlag an der Lottbek (Peter Jensen), Ammesbek bei Hamburg,1997].

 

[7] Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry, [hereafter BEM] back cover.

 

[8] A detailed "critique" of the baptism section in the BEM document, which takes into consideration the thinking of certain bilateral dialogues on the theme of baptism, as well as the baptismal liturgical practises of some churches as examples, is found in Eugene L. Brand, "The Lima Text as a Standard for Current Understandings and Practice of Baptism," Studia Liturgica, Vol. 16 (1986), pp. 40 - 63.

 

[9] Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry 1982 - 1990: Report on the Process and Responses, Faith and Order Paper No. 149 (Geneva: WCC Publications, 1990), p. 3.

 

[10] BEM, D. 6, p. 3.

 

[11] Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry, op. cit., Commentary (6), p. 3.

[12] BEM, Commentary (12), p. 5.

 

[13] See for example the attempt by Paulos Mar Gregorios "Towards a Basic Document" in Ecumenical Review Vol. 41, No. 2 (1989), pp. 184 - 193. Gregorios correctly warns against a "Committee Theology" and writes that "at the moment the ecumenical dialogue has not progressed to the point where a group of theologians can sit down and write an "ecumenical theology" that is vital and coherent."(p. 187). He goes on to say that even though obvious disagreements exist in the ecumenical family, "it is possible to work towards a comprehensive ecumenical theology. This will have to be on the pattern of the Lima document on baptism, eucharist and ministry."

 

[14] Directory for the Application of Principles and Norms of Ecumenism op. cit, pp. 19 - 20. This comment comes in section 19 of the first chapter (on "The Search for Christian Unity"), in a part entitled, "Divisions among Christians and the Re-establishing of Unity".

 

[15] This statement, coming from a later period, nevertheless captures the reality of the ecumenical dilemma. It comes from the fine study paper, prepared by the Strasbourg Institute for Ecumenical Research, "Baptism and the Unity of the Church: A Study Paper," in Root and Saarinen, eds., Baptism and the Unity of the Church, op. cit., p. 35.

 

[16] Louisville Consultation on Baptism, Faith and Order Paper No. 97 (special issue of Review and Expositor: A Baptist Theological Journal, Vol. LXXVII, No. 1, Winter 1980), p. 3. For an indication of other ecumenical endeavours which dealt with the issue of baptism see Günther Gassmann, ed., Documentary History of Faith and Order 1963 - 1993, Faith and Order Paper No. 159 (Geneva: WCC Publications, 1993), p. 23. The document from the 1971 Commission meeting in Louvain, entitled "Baptism, Confirmation and Eucharist," is reprinted as Document III.8 on pp. 104 - 115. In the section entitled "Believers' and Infant Baptism," it is indicated that "the identity of adult believers' baptism and infant baptism can only be evident if the Churches insist on necessity of the vicarious faith of the congregation as well as of the parents and sponsors. The act of faith also involves the belief that participation in the corporate life of the Body of Christ is an essential element in the salvation of each member and that the baptized infant is initiated into this corporate life. Indiscriminate infant baptism is irresponsible and turns infant baptism into an act which can hardly be understood to be essentially the same as adult believers' baptism."  (p. 114).

 

[17] By Joseph F. Eagan, S. J.,  Ibid., pp. 47 - 61.

 

[18] By G. R. Beasley-Murray, Ibid., pp. 62 - 70. Beasley-Murray is the author of the elaborate study, Baptism in the New Testament [1962] (London: Macmillan, 1963). In this book, the author, a Baptist, concludes the section entitled "The Rise and Significance of Infant Baptism," with the words: "It seems that a small amount of water is bestowed on a small infant with a very small result. And this, it is alleged, is baptism! Can it be wondered at that Baptists should be strengthened in their determination to strive for the retention of the fullness of baptism, ordained of the Lord and continued in the Apostolic Communities, and that they should continue to lift up their voices among the Churches to plead for a return to this baptism? It has never been the property of an exclusive group within the Church but the gift of the Risen Lord to the whole Church. It is time his people took it afresh from his gracious hands." (pp. 385 - 386). In order to be fair to Beasley-Murray it must also be noted that in his last page of his postscript on baptismal reform and inter-church relations he emphasises the "inadequate insights of frail individuals and of our very fallible traditions ..." (p. 395).

 

[19] Eagan, p. 61.

 

[20] Beasley-Murray, p. 70.

 

[21] BEM "Preface," p. x. The Preface also traces the ecumenical journey that led to BEM.

Also see Gunter Wagner, "Baptism from Accra to Lima," in Max Thurian, ed., Ecumenical Perspectives on Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry, Faith and Order Paper No. 116 (Geneva: WCC 1983), pp. 12 - 32.

 

[22]  Churches Respond to BEM, ed. Max Thurian, Vols. I - VI (Geneva: WCC Publications, 1986 - 1988).

 

[23] Ibid.

 

[24] Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry 1982 - 1990: Report on the Process and Responses, op. cit., pp. 45 - 48.

 

[25] An excellent collection of such documents covering the period 1982 - 1990, has been assembled together and commented upon in Dokumente wachsender Übereinstimmung: Sämtliche Berichte und Konsenstexte interkonfessioneller Gespräche auf Weltebene, Band II, 1982 - 1990, Herausgegeben und eingeleitet von Harding Meyer, Damaskinos Papandreou, Hans Jörg Urban, Lukas Vischer (Paderborn: Bonifatius Druck Buch Verlag/ Frankfurt am Main: Verlag Otto Lembeck, 1992). Some of the conversations which have, among other matters, considered the issues raised by Baptism, include the conversations between the Anglicans and the Reformed (pp. 132 - 188);  the Baptists and the Lutherans (pp. 189 - 216); the Disciples of Christ and the Reformed (pp.  217 - 230); the Baptists and the Roman Catholics (pp.  374 - 391); the Evangelicals and the Roman Catholics (pp. 392 - 443).

An article by André Birmelé entitled, "Zur Kompatibilität der internationalen zwischenkirchlichen Dialoge: Eine Problemanzeige," in Ökumenische Rundschau, 42. Jahrgang, Heft 3 (1993), pp. 304 - 322, seeks to spell out the implications of such endeavours, including asking pertinent questions regarding the "Koordination der Rezeption". The same writer has also written on "Baptism and the Unity of the Church in Ecumenical Dialogues," in Root and Saarinen, eds., Baptism and the Unity of the Church, op. cit., pp. 104 - 129.

 

[26] The Sixth Forum on Bilateral Dialogues held in October 1994, in its Report: International Bilateral Dialogues, 1992 - 1994 (Faith and Order Paper No. 168) (Geneva: WCC Publications, 1995), observed that where openness to reception and renewal exits, significant changes in the life and mission of the church occur through, among other things, "contact in theological formation with the broader heritage of the church through the ages. ...,"  p. 7.

[27] See for example Hans-Georg Link, ed., Apostolic Faith Today: A Handbook for Study, Faith and Order Paper No. 124 (Geneva: World Council of Churches, 1985), where it is pointed out that "this apostolic faith study is profoundly related to the convergence document on "Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry" and its reception process in the churches. Baptism, eucharist and ministry theologically belong to the wider horizon of the apostolic faith and it is the apostolic faith that the churches are being asked to discern and respond to in their responses to "Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry" "  (p. 272). 

 

[28] See Confessing the One Faith: An Ecumenical Explication of the Apostolic Faith as it is Confessed in the Nicene - Constantinopolitan Creed (381) New Revised Version, Faith and Order Paper No. 153 (Geneva: WCC Publications, 1991), where in commenting on the creedal article "One baptism for the forgiveness of sins,"  it is pointed out that "A substantial challenge is made to this confession by the fact that in contrast to the one baptism enunciated in the Creed many Churches, while officially recognizing each other's baptism, still cannot join together in the celebration of baptism.  Furthermore, there are churches which do not recognize the baptism administered by other churches, and some of them practise what appears to be re-baptism  when people come over to them." (p. 90).

 

[29] In Gassmann, ed., Documentary History of Faith and Order 1963 - 1993, op. cit., p. 22.

 

[30] In Emilio Castro, comp., To the Wind of God's Spirit: Reflections on the Canberra Theme (Geneva: WCC Publications, 1990), p. 98. For a fine presentation of the Orthodox expectations from, and contributions to, the ecumenical movement see Ion Bria, The Sense of Ecumenical Tradition: The Ecumenical Witness and Vision of the Orthodox (Geneva: WCC Publications, 1991). Bria writes, "Within the WCC one can find great variety not only in theological insights, missionary perspectives and ecclesiological positions, but also in the vocabularies of unity. These are not always coherent. The terms "unity" and "ecumenism" are used in different contexts with different meanings, creating misunderstanding and confusion. ... Because several aspects of the Orthodox rhetoric of unity are easily misunderstood, we need more clarity on the subject." (p. 48).

For a candid view on the Orthodox and their understanding of baptism in an ecumenical context see Merja Merras, "Baptismal Recognition and the Orthodox Churches, in Root and Saarinen, eds., Baptism and the Unity of the Church, op. cit., pp. 138 - 149.

 

[31] Found in Michael Kinnamon, ed., Signs of the Spirit (Geneva: WCC Publications, 1991), pp. 172 - 174, and reprinted in the preparatory discussion paper for the Fifth World Conference on Faith and Order, held at Santiago de Compostela  in 1993, Towards Koinonia in Faith, Life and Witness: A Discussion Paper (Geneva: WCC Publications, 1993), pp. 11 - 13. This statement has been sharply criticized by the former Director of the Faith and Order Commission, Lukas Vischer, in an article entitled  "Is This Really 'the Unity We Seek'," in the Ecumenical Review, Vol. 44, No. 4 (1992), pp. 467 - 478. Vischer writes, "I cannot regard the Canberra statement as marking any real progress. Indeed, I would even say that in more than one respect it represents a step backwards in comparison to earlier statements on unity." (p. 477).

 

[32] Towards Koinonia in Faith, Life and Witness, Ibid., p. 30.

 

[33] See the comments and analysis offered by Dagmar Heller who frankly assesses positions and interrelationships between the Baptists, the Orthodox and the Catholics, among others, and points out that  "[o]ne may get the impression that the situation today is in fact more complicated than it was before BEM. In any case, it is not as simple as BEM portrays it. But I do not wish to be pessimistic; yet it is necessary to face the difficulties as they are. ... one might argue that the most important thing is to continue with the bilateral dialogues. Nevertheless, to a certain extent the multilateral dialogue is also necessary. In either case, what is needed above all are patience and a profound will to attain unity." In "Baptism - the Basis of Church Unity?", op. cit., p. 489.

 

[34] In the Indian context this issue has been addressed by K. P. Aleaz in his article, "Conversion: Some Indian Christian Reflections," National Council of Churches Review, Vol. CXV, No. 1 (January 1995), pp. 28 - 42.

 

[35] In Ecumenical Review, Vol. 44, No. 4 (1992), pp. 380 - 390. The general theme of this issue is "Conversion".

 

[36] Ibid., p. 388.

 

[37] Ibid., p. 384. Also n. 9, p. 390.

 

[38] Ibid., p. 389.

 

[39] In One Christ -  Many Religions: Toward  a Revised Christology (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1991), pp. 148 - 149.

 

[40] See the section on "Baptism," in The Constitution of the Church of North India and Bye-Laws (Delhi: ISPCK, 1987), pp. 16 - 19.

The official response of the Church of North India to the BEM document is filled with several pertinent questions calling for deeper and sustained theological reflection. It is interesting that no direct comments are made about infant and believer's baptism. The response is in Max Thurian, ed., Churches Respond to BEM: Volume II, Faith and Order Paper 132 (Geneva: World Council of Churches, 1986), pp. 69 - 73.

 

[41] Ibid., p. 17.

 

[42] In Emilio Castro, comp., To the Wind of God's Spirit, op. cit., p. 56.

 

[43] Paul Knitter, in his One Earth Many Religions: Multifaith Dialogue and Global Responsibility (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1995) attempts to spell out practical implications of our common human responsibility. A noteworthy section is that analysing the implications of holding on to the conviction of Edward Schillebeeckx that "extra mundum nulla salus," pp. 113 - 117.

 

[44] M. M. Thomas, "The Church - The Fellowship of the Baptised and the Unbaptised?," in Prasanna Kumari, ed., Liberating Witness: Dr. K. Rajaratnam's Platinum Birthday Anniversary Commemoration, Vol. 1  (Madras: Gurukul, 1995), p. 13.

[45] Leelamma Athyal, "Church: An Obstacle to God's Mission? A Theological Appraisal of P. Chenchiah's Thoughts on Church and Mission," in  Abraham P. Athyal and Dorothy Yoder Nyce, eds., Mission Today: Challenges and Concerns (Chennai: Gurukul Lutheran Theological College and Research Institute, 1998), p. 55.

 

[46] Didache, 7.9.4b, translated in Understandings of the Church, trans. and ed., E. Glenn Hinson (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1986), p. 22.

 

[47] David Udayakumar, "Church-in-Mission: Facing Contemporary Challenges,"  in Athyal and Nyce, eds., Mission Today, p. 24.

 

[48] J. Patmury, "Laity and Mission," in Joseph Mattam and Sebastian Kim, eds., Mission Trends Today: Historical and Theological Perspectives FOIM V (Mumbai: St. Pauls, 1997), p. 150.

 

[49] Joseph Mattam, "Indian Attempts Towards a Solution to the Problems of Conversion," in Joseph Mattam and Sebastian Kim, eds., Mission and Conversion: A Reappraisal FOIM IV (Mumbai: St. Pauls, 1996), pp. 125 - 126.

 

[50] BEM, p. 4.

Pressure on the Hyphen: Aspects of the Search for Identity Today in Indian-Christian Theology

Introduction:

 

... multiculturalists who strive to constitute non-discriminatory minority identities cannot simply do so by affirming the place they occupy, or by returning to an 'unmarked' authentic origin or pre-text: their recognition requires the negotiation of a dangerous indeterminacy, since the too-visible presence of the other underwrites the authentic national subject but can never guarantee its visibility or truth.[2]

 

           

It is now almost twenty years since, among other things, an article by Christopher Duraisingh in Religion and Society, laying emphasis on the hyphenated character of Indian-Christian identity,[3] sparked off a debate about the nature of this identity of Indian-Christians in the contemporary context. Writers like Paulos Mar Gregorios have pointed out that the "Indian" component is far more differentiated and complex than previously thought, especially in terms of the relationship to Jainism and Buddhism.[4] Others, like James Massey, have pointed out that the Dalit element, which forms an indispensable part of any discourse on identity has been systematically and deliberately left out of the discourse.[5] In addition, the warning has been sounded over and over again that to subsume any discourse about women within a wider framework of identity-related discourse would be an act of irresponsible injustice.[6]

 

The most notable recent contribution regarding the issue of Indian-Christian identity is found in the work of Sathianathan Clarke, who, in analysing a particular Dalit community, the Paraiyar, has pointed out just how complex this question really is, when he writes that

 

among the Paraiyar there is a forging of subjectivity by wedding together some ingredients that can be retained as signs of Dalit particularity with some components that can be skillfully appropriated as signs of human universality from the larger caste Hindu worldview. 'Soft boundaries' are seen to exist between subaltern and dominant cultural interaction, which enhances the points of relatedness.[7]

 

Although one can debate the notion of human universality,[8] the point being made is significant in that pertinent questions regarding cultural continuity and cultural difference in a complicated context of convoluted interaction have been raised. What is of importance here, too, is the issue regarding the nature of the boundary and the peculiarity of the phenomenon of relatedness and dependence. Needless to say, the coming of Christianity among such groups adds several more strands to the already tangled skein of the identity question.[9]

 

Sober Indian historiography has questioned any attempt at a simplistic presentation of the interaction between peoples in the early millennia of Indian history.[10] Making a quantum leap, one cannot forget the legacy of colonialism, which resulted in massive ferment at various levels of society, and  also resulted in different groups within society attempting to forge new patterns of relational identity.[11] The inescapable reality that new patterns of social, economic, political, religious and cultural inter-relationships and identities emerged through the colonial encounter cannot be simply brushed aside or dismissed with the comment that this was a terrible time and that it is good that things are different now. Kwame Anthony Appiah writes:

 

... for us to forget Europe is to suppress the conflicts that have shaped our identities; since it is too late for us to escape each other, we might instead seek to turn to our advantage the mutual interdependencies history has thrust upon us.[12]

 

Hence, the question of identity is not something static and backward looking, but is a dynamic reality, where the context demands that answers be given and positions be taken regarding who Indian-Christians are. In the present context, such an endeavour assumes urgency, especially in view of the fact that ultra-"nationalist" organisations question again and again the identity of Christians in India.[13] In this context the words of George Mathew Nalunnakkal are significant. In writing about the search for self-identity in basic communities, focusing on the Dalits, he writes that

 

these quests for identity and self-consciousness face caveat from various quarters, not just from reactionary and capitalist circles, ... but also from fundamentalist forces under the pretext of nationalism, and incredibly from some of the revolutionary leftist parties as well. The market economy which has been heralded as the 'new saviour' by the capitalist forces, as part of the 'one world' culture, has imposed an overbearing homogeneity in all spheres.[14]

 

Thus, in a context where the question of Indian-Christian identity is under pressure from different sides, one is justified in asking what baptism, for example, has really resulted in and how it has been interpreted and understood.[15]

 

This leads us to focus on the issue of the "Christian" part in the question of Indian-Christian identity. It is clear that no totalising picture can be offered. In methodological comments in my doctoral work, which was aimed at reappropriating the patristic heritage as an Indian-Christian, I wrote that one must seek to ground ones identity within the "variegated heritage of the church."[16] This heritage, which many Indian-Christian theologians have too often accepted uncritically, accepting the broad brush-strokes, without going into the nitty-gritty details, needs to be re-examined and re-evaluated so that the meaning of several concepts which such a heritage has spawned and which is reflected, often unconsciously, in the present attitudes of Indian-Christians, can be liberated "from the socio-cultural, philosophical and historical contexts in which they have been deified, and make their theological insights reincarnate in the life and concerns of the people. Only in this way can the Church become fully incarnate in India."[17] In order for somebody or something to be liberated from the chains of particular contexts,[18] one needs to have an understanding of the nature of such contexts. It is also to be recognised that it is through the re-reading  and reappropriation of texts from the early period of the formation and quest for identity of the church that one can reclaim, question, and integrate the life-experiences of our ancestors in the faith, especially women, recognising that - then as now - the "universalizing effect of the Christian master narrative ... concealed the subaltern status of many of its characters."[19]

 

This contribution does not intend to offer a detailed analysis of identity in context, but rather, keeping in mind the complexity of the issue, where the words "Indian" and "Christian" have to be recognised as being loaded with both latent and extrinsic meanings and implications, certain guidelines are offered as a prolegomena to any detailed and differentiated discussion of Indian-Christian identity. It is to be recognised that in any such discussion the pressure lies on the hyphen, because it is there that the past, present and future intersect, opening up new possibilities through the movements on either side of the hyphen.

 

*****

 

With this introduction, a brief attempt is now made to raise certain issues, which, I believe, are indispensable in the quest towards the development of an informed  and more elaborate discourse on identity:

 

Constructed Identity:

 

One of the things that is very often glossed over, often deliberately, is the reality that the power of the hyphen in Indian-Christian existence resides in its ability to reconstruct and reconceive. Things do not remain static either for the new convert or even for those who have already been Christians for generations. New situations call forth new articulations. The traffic in both directions across the hyphen can be particularly heavy at certain times due to various circumstances, putting immense pressure on it. Since both time and history[20] are in a process of flux one has to be mindful and conscious as to what one means when one speaks of identity. Elizabeth Deeds Ermarth notes:

 

[h]istory now is not just the convention where the present belongs  to a controlled pattern of meaning governed by the past and opened to a future. History now is also in the interesting position of confronting its own historicity.[21]

 

Hence, in recognising how one's own Indian-Christian historicity has very often been constructed by various forces including ethnographers,[22] census takers,[23]

 

missionaries,[24] statisticians and community leaders[25],  one is justified in raising the issue as to how the various strands of something that is constructed, both chronologically and ideologically, can be disentangled so as to provide one with clues as to the "real." It is not that the strands are never available as something detachable, but rather that the strands themselves have interpenetrated and have been interpenetrated to such an extent that any easy talk of disentanglement is futile.

 

This issue can be illustrated with reference to the spectacular Western-music-influenced singing capability of several North-East Indian "tribes" who have converted to Christianity on a large scale in the last century and the beginning of this one. One needs to analyse how and where tribal identity in pre-Christian times overlapped with the offering of a new form of identity in the missionary era, followed by the process of the fecundation of the various strands in the projection of the self-understanding of the peoples themselves. In this sense what is available is an "imaged" identity, which recognises that there have been various attempt to "fit" people into identity models which are defined for them. Such models are never accepted passively, or even just as they are, but one ought to speak more of the seepage of such models into the consciousness and expression of the people, very often in spite of active or resigned resistance. This was especially true in the early period of the colonial and missionary encounter with the "natives."[26] As the French philosopher Jacques Derrida densely notes:

 

the person writing is inscribed in a determined textual system. Even if there is never a pure signified, there are different relationships as to that which, from the signifier, is presented  as the irreducible stratum of the signified.[27]

 

In analysing the question of the identity of North-East-Indian-Tribal-Christians (note the number of hyphens, which offers a visual image of the complexity of the problematic involved), a recent contribution of Lalsangkima Pachuau offers us much to consider.  Pointing out the extent of the identity dilemma and stressing the reality of difference, he writes that what one has to take seriously is the fact that the it is through the efforts of the "national majority" that the difference between ethnically distinct people in North-East India  is undermined. "Consequently, the 'tribals' felt that they have been dragged into a 'foreign' system of social hierarchy which they resent."[28] In any discourse which links identity and liberation one needs to know from what one is seeking liberation, in order to actualise the process of aspiring to such liberation. One also needs to know that there are contexts that have been created and imagined by ourselves as well as by the others.

 

It is when the signified question the basis of their signification that the recognition of the camouflaged elements in the hyphen becomes an issue right out in the open and builds up the pressure on the hyphen.

 

Politicised Identity:

 

Any talk about identity has  also to take into account the reality that the identity issue is not something which is value neutral. On the one hand there is the talk about a larger cross-cultural transnational identity. On the other there is the attempt to define a micro identity. One ought to note that the term "Christian" conceals more than it reveals. At the same time, one must recognise that the term "Indian" is a political construct. This understanding serves as an admonition against any form of an easy romanticised quest for the "original" which underlies the present form of existence. There are plainly very many competing factors which ought to be taken into consideration. In discussing this matter. O. V. Jathanna notes that "[w]hile the caste factor is the most dominant one, religious communalism, linguism and regionalism also need to be taken seriously, when we consider the question of identity in the Indian context."[29] At the annual meeting of the (almost exclusively Roman Catholic) Indian Theological Association in May 1996, which focused on the issue of the identity of the church in India, the Final Statement said that "[t]he church in India must situate her identity in the context of 97% of the Indian population seeking their salvation outside the church without any reference to it."[30] In the inter-religious context of India, such an assertion makes sense in that any attempt to discuss identity in isolation, as if Christian identity were an in-house issue, would only result in forgetting that the hyphen exists.[31] However, such an assertion should not blind us to the reality that even within the fractional percentage of the people in India who are Christian, the identity issue continues to remain an existential issue. Godwin Shiri's recent analysis of the life, beliefs, and practices of Dalit Christians in Bellary, Karnataka, and Kurnool, Andhra Pradesh, reveals that

 

most Christian Dalits were deeply aware that much of their plight as people of 'untouchable' origin has continued inspite of accepting the Christian faith and much of their expectations in new community (church) have remained unfulfilled. However it appears that they have not lost their hope in the Christian faith in which they have invariably seen, and to some extent experienced also, a liberative potential.[32]

 

The ambivalence which lies at the core of Christian identity in the Indian context needs to be both recognised and exposed. Pressure on the hyphen ought to result in the challenging of simplistic notions of group or religious identity which claims that there lies something deeper, something intangible, which is supposed to be the cement which binds people and communities together under a common label. The cultural critic Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak warns us that

 

[o]ne needs to be vigilant against simple notions of identity which overlap neatly with language or location. I'm deeply suspicious of any determinist or positivist definition of identity ... . I don't think one can pretend to imitate adequately that to which one is bound. So, our problem, and our solution, is that we do pretend this imitation when we write, but then must do something about the fact that one knows this imitation is not OK anymore.[33]

 

One must not lose sight of the fact that in recognising that identity has a politicised dimension to it, those who have been intentionally and cruelly marginalised have to be suspicious of any attempt to speak with them, through them, and for them, especially when such attempts come from either those who historically were responsible for such marginalisation, or from those among them who are situationally privileged. The following quotation, coming from within the experience of feminist struggle, encapsulates this point that

 

[a] socially marginalized group does not have the power to exclude, silence, and command obedience from a dominant group. Its claims for epistemic privilege, lacking a social power on which to base them, cannot yield the same results as the self-authorizing claims of a dominant group and are, therefore, merely normative, compelling only for those who are theoretically persuaded by them, usually members of the socially marginalized group who find them empowering. Although the empowerment of its own members is an important goal for every marginalized social group, by claiming an authority based in epistemic privilege the group reinscribes the values and practices used to socially marginalize it by excluding its voice, silencing it and commanding its obedience to the voice of the dominant group.[34]

 

Taken by itself, the above quotation might appear to negate all the efforts of the marginalised communities to give themselves the agency.  It might even look as though the writer is trying to deny the marginalised the right to protest.  This is certainly not what the writer attempts to do here. In her very complex but well-argued essay, she shows how the claim for epistemic knowledge - which,  in the context of this article, would link it to the efforts to 'politicise identity' or to use identity 'strategically' - assumes a single centre of authority and also assumes making use of the language and tools of this authority.  In this manner, epistemic privilege given to the experiences of the marginalised reinscribes the values of the dominant.  This is problematic because such a position overlooks the presence of many-centred, institutionalised authority, and imagines that the practices of resistance are "free from the operation of the oppressive forces".[35]  Perhaps with this explanation,  her comments quoted earlier become more meaningful for this discussion of identity, and her concluding comments on the use of the 'master's tool', offer an intelligible link that connects the idea of 'politicised identity' with an 'imagined identity':

 

There are no tools that can replace [the master's tools], nor are any needed, because when the oppressed feel a need to authorize speech, they are acting on feelings that are a function of their oppression.  Speech needs to be authorized only where silence is the rule.  This is an oppressive rule.  It need not be obeyed, and the justification of disobedience in this case is not a special kind of expertise guaranteed by epistemic privilege but rather by the demands of justice.[36] (emphasis mine).

 

Such an undertaking should also be clear as to why it is undertaken in the first place. All too often there have been attempts to articulate the "demands of justice" coming from those groups or countries which have benefited from the dearth and scantiness of justice issues during the colonial (political or even theological) era, benefits which empower even now, in the era of "partnership."[37] The sober warning, coming from the field of culture studies, must not be forgotten, that

 

[t]he desire to 'correct' the omissions of the past within the western avant-garde ... has led to a one-sided fixation with ethnicity as something that 'belongs' to the Other alone, thus white ethnicity is not under question and retains its 'centred' position; more to the point the white subject remains the central reference point in the power ploys of multicultural policy.[38]

 

The recognition that the hyphen is not a "neutral" entity, but that it has been partly forged in the furnace of domination and superiority is something which cannot be overlooked. This recognition of the politicised nature of identity will be of assistance in the attempt to understand the characteristic of the hyphen as something which is not isolated but as an entity which has the power to draw  together elements which come from the living past, while being informed about the machinations of the present, and anticipating an uncertain future.

 

Conclusion: Navigating the hyphen

 

One needs to make the affirmation that it is precisely through the experience of the pressure on the hyphen that several issues and themes which, for various reasons, remained peripheral to the dominant theological discourse, have now become an indispensable element of any discourse on the situation and identity of Indian-Christians. This, however, is not an isolated phenomenon, but has to be placed within the wider context of the globalization of culture and the attempts at standardisation, which has stimulated the attempt to rediscover the local and the indigenous. Recognising the pitfall of trying to easily privilege the one against the  other and blurring distinctions across the divide, we must note that

 

[t]he present tensions between localizing and globalizing tendencies are symptomatic of a deeper, largely unconscious drama. It is not in the macrosocial structures of globalization and localization that one has to search for clues to some of the most interesting outcomes of the drama, butt in the interactions on the individual self. It is here that the essential dynamics are played out and the different social tendencies impinge, fracturing and reassembling a wandering self. The self as it navigates today's interpersonal and physical space becomes a new type of wanderer torn from its original moorings.[39]

 

It is this, our wandering self, that offers us Indian-Christians the challenge of understanding ourselves by recognising and affirming, as well as celebrating, the complexity of our existence in this vast and varied country. The challenge before us is to navigate the hyphen and be prepared to explore our varied histories,  discover the outside forces, question the economic compulsions, be astounded by the cultural diversity, empathise with the experience of marginality, marvel at the memories that have shaped all these various selves, and offered, and continue to offer us, an identity or identities across the hyphen, as the various embodied selves that make up the assorted group of people who are called Indian-Christians.

 

 

 

END NOTES



* The Rev. Dr. J. Jayakiran Sebastian is a Presbyter of the Church of South India, and Associate Professor in the Department of Theology and Ethics, at the United Theological College, Bangalore.

 

[2] Homi K. Bhabha, "Culture's In-Between," in Stuart Hall and Paul du Gay, eds., Questions of Cultural Identity (London: Sage Publications, 1996),   p. 56.

 

[3] Christopher Duraisingh, "Indian Hyphenated Christians and Theological Reflections: A New Expression of Identity," Religion and Society, Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (December 1979), pp. 95 - 101.

 

[4] Paulos Mar Gregorios, Enlightenment: East and West (Shimla: Indian Institute of Advanced Study, 1989), passim.

 

[5] Among other significant writings, see his books Towards Dalit Hermeneutics: Re-reading the Text, the History and the Literature (Delhi: ISPCK, 1994), passim, and Dalits in India: Religion as a Source of Bondage or Liberation with Special Reference to Christians (Delhi: ISPCK, 1995), passim. Also see P. Mohan Larbeer, "Dalit Identity - A Theological Reflection," in V. Devasahayam, ed., Frontiers of Dalit Theology (Madras: ISPCK/Gurukul, 1997), pp. 375 - 391.

                                                                                                 

 

[6] See, for example, Monica Melanchthon, "Christology and Women," in Virginia Fabella and Sun Ai Lee Park, eds., We Dare to Dream: Doing Theology as Asian Women (Hong Kong: Asian Women's Resource Centre for Culture and Theology and The EATWOT Women's Commission in Asia, 1989), pp. 15 - 23. Also see John Webster et al, eds., From Role to Identity: Dalit Christian Women in Transition (Delhi: ISPCK, 1997).

 

[7] Sathianathan Clarke, Dalits and Christianity: Subaltern Religion and Liberation Theology in India (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1998),      p. 127.

 

[8] See, for example, Jean-François Lyotard, "Missive on Universal History," in his The Postmodern Explained: Correspondence 1982 - 1985 (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1992), pp. 23 - 37.

 

[9] For an important historical note and comments on the issue of identity of Asian churches, see M. M. Thomas, "An Assessment of Tambaram's Contribution to the Search of the Asian Churches for an Authentic Selfhood," in International Review of Mission, Vol. LXXVIII, No. 307 (July 1988, 'Tambaram Revisited,'), pp. 390 - 397.

 

[10] See Romila Thapar, "Ideology and the Interpretation of Early Indian History," in her Interpreting Early India [1992] (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1997), pp. 1 - 22.

 

[11] For an analysis of colonization and its legacy see the fine work by Marc Ferro, Colonization: A Global History (London: Routledge, 1997).

 

[12] In In My Father's House: Africa in the Philosophy of Culture (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), p. 72.

 

[13] See, for example, the recent report in the newspaper The Asian Age, Vol. 5, No. 126 (24 June 1998), pp. 1 - 2: "Sharp VHP attack on Church over reaction to tests," where the churches in India were advised by the VHP to write to "mother churches abroad" in order to get the Western powers to abolish their nuclear arsenals.

Also see the article by Manini Chatterjee in The Asian Age, Vol. 5, No. 143 (11 July, 1998) entitled: "Persecution: Christians are now being systematically targeted," p. 13 (The Bangalore Age), where it is noted that the Christians in India are constantly branded "aliens," and "the attack on the Christian community is astounding for its colossal combination of ignorance and arrogance. The constant refrain of the RSS school is that Christians are abusing 'our hospitality' as though India was the fiefdom of the RSS."

 

[14] In his article, "Search for Self-Identity and the Emerging Spirituality: A Dalit Theological Perspective," in Bangalore Theological Forum, Vol. XXX, Nos. 1 & 2 (March & June 1998), p. 25.

 

[15] See my "Baptism and the Unity of the Church in India Today," in Michael Root and Risto Saarinen, eds., Baptism and the Unity of the Church (Grand Rapids, Michigan/Cambridge, U.K.: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.; Geneva: WCC Publications, 1998), pp. 196 - 207, where I have attempted, through questions, to raise this and related issues.

 

[16] J. Jayakiran Sebastian, "... baptisma unum in sancta ecclesia ...": A Theological Appraisal of the Baptismal Controversy in the Work and Writings of Cyprian of Carthage (Delhi: ISPCK, 1997), p. 177.

 

[17] John B. Chethimattam, "Problems of an Indian Christian Theology: A Critique of Indian Theologizing," in M. Amaladoss, T. K. John and         G. Gispert-Sauch, eds., Theologizing in India (Bangalore: Theological Publications in India, 1981), p. 205.

 

[18] See the comment by M. A. Thomas that "[o]ur identities are not any more sacrosanct. ...," in his article, "Ecumenism and Christian Identity," in Aruna Gnanadason, ed., Ecumenism: Hope in Action - Essays in Honour of Dr. Mathai Zachariah (Nagpur: National Council of Churches in India, 1990),   p. 79.

 

[19] Elizabeth A. Clark, "Ideology, History, and the Construction of 'Woman' in Late Ancient Christianity," in the Journal of Early Christian Studies, Vol. 2, No. 4 (1994), p. 176.

 

[20] See Romila Thapar, Time as a Metaphor of History: Early India (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1996), where she notes that "the inclusion of cyclic time is not a characteristic of cultures which are historically stunted but an indication of historical complexity." (p. 44).

 

[21] In "The Crisis of Realism in Postmodern Time," in George Levine, ed., Realism and Representation: Essays on the Problem of Realism in Relation to Science, Literature, and Culture (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1993), p. 222.

An Indian-Christian attempt to wrestle with this and similar issues is Jacob S. Dharmaraj, Colonialism and Christian Mission: Postcolonial Reflections (Delhi: ISPCK, 1993).

 

[22] See Simon Charsley, "'Untouchable': What is in a Name?," The Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, Vol. 2, No. 1 (March 1996), pp. 1 - 23.

 

[23] See the chapter entitled "Number in the Colonial Imagination," in Arjun Appadurai, Modernity at Large: Cultural Dimensions of Globalization (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1997), pp. 114 - 135.

 

[24] For a brilliant analysis of the problematic in different contexts see Lamin Sanneh, Translating the Message: The Missionary Impact on Culture (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1989).

 

[25] For an example as to how the British government recognised that the co-option of the landed class was indispensable for the smooth administration of their Empire, see the report on the Imperial Assemblage in Delhi on 1st January, 1877, to mark Queen Victoria's accession to the Imperial Title, "Kaiser-i-Hind," where the Viceroy, Lord Lytton, told "the native subjects of the Empress of India," that although administrative direction and "supreme supervision" would lie with the English, through whom "the arts, the sciences and the culture of the West ... may freely flow to the East," nevertheless there was a need for natives to play a role in the administration. Such natives were not only those with "intellectual qualifications," but ought to include those who are "natural leaders," through "birth, rank and hereditary influence." This is reported in Bernard S. Cohn, "Representing Authority in Victorian India," in Eric Hobsbawn and Terence Ranger, eds., The Invention of Tradition (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), p. 206. Cohn identifies these native leaders as "the feudal aristocracy, which was being 'created' in the assemblage."

 

[26] For one attempt to analyse this see my "The Baptism of Death: Reading, Today, the Life and Death of Lakshmi Kaundinya," Journal of Dharma, issue on 'Subaltern Religion', Vol. XXIII, No. 1 (Jan. - March 1998), pp. 113 - 132.

 

[27] In Of Grammatology, trans. Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1976), p. 160.

 

[28] See his article, "In Search of a Context for a Contextual Theology: Socio-Political Realities of 'Tribal' Christians in North-East India," in National Council of Churches Review, Vol. CXVII, No. 11, (December 1997), p. 762. Also to be noted is his protest against the uncritical and insensitive use of the words "tribe" and "tribal."

 

[29] In his article "Ecclesiology in Context: Reflections from an Indian Perspective in the Light of Current Ecumenical Deliberations," Bangalore Theological Forum, Vol. XXVIII, Nos. 3 & 4 (Sept. - Dec. 1996), p. 10.

 

[30] "Final Statement," 11.b, in Kurien Kunnumpuram, Errol D'Lima and Jacob Parappally, eds., The Church in India in Search of a New Identity (Bangalore: N.B.C.L.C., 1997), p. 391.

 

[31] See the chapter "Religious Identities in a Secular State," in S. J. Samartha, One Christ - Many Religions: Toward a Revised Christology (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1991), pp. 45 - 57.

 

[32] Godwin Shiri, The Plight of Christian Dalits - A South Indian Case Study (Bangalore: Asian Trading Corporation, 1997), p. 234.

 

[33] In "Strategy, Identity, Writing," in Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak,  The Post-Colonial Critic: Interviews, Strategies, Dialogues, ed. Sarah Harasym (New York:  Routledge, 1990), p. 38.

 

[34] Bat-Ami Bar On, "Marginality and Epistemic Privilege," in Linda Alcoff and Elizabeth Potter, eds., Feminist Epistemologies (New York: Routledge, 1993), pp. 96 - 97.

 

[35] Bat-Ami Bar On, "Marginality and Epistemic Privilege," p. 93.

 

[36] Bat-Ami Bar On, "Marginality and Epistemic Privilege," p. 97.

 

[37] I have explored this in a specific case in my "The Missionsakademie an der Universität Hamburg as a Forum of Intercultural and Ecumenical Exchange," in Theodor Ahrens, ed., Zwischen Regionalität und Globalisierung: Studien zu Mission, Ökumene und Religion (Ammersbek bei Hamburg: Verlag an der Lottbek (Peter Jensen), 1997), pp. 265 - 270.

 

[38] Issac Julien and Kobena Mercer, "De Margin and De Centre," in David Morley and Kuan-Hsing Chen, eds., Stuart Hall: Critical Dialogues in Culture Studies (London: Routledge, 1996), p. 454.

 

[39] Susantha Goonatilake, "The self wandering between cultural localization and globalization," in Jan Nederveen Pieterse and Bhikhu Parekh, eds., The Decolonization of Imagination: Culture, Knowledge and Power (London: Zed Books Ltd., 1995), p. 236.

Permeating All Things with Divinity:Jesus in Selected Writings of the Teachers of the Early Church i

Introduction: In Search of a Context

 

"Christologies based on a Europe-centered history, a too narrow or deductive Christ-centered theology, and a church-centered mission tied to classical dogmas about the person of Christ and theories of the atonement, which respond to Western needs, are not only irrelevant to the life of the people but often obstruct the life and witness of the church in Asia."[2]

 

Interest in the man called Jesus has never waned. Both at the popular and the academic level, Jesus continues to exert fascination over the minds and hearts of all kinds of people. The recent BBC series anchored by Mark Tully, and the book that emerged out of this, is just one such indication.[3] There have also been several attempts to bring to the "popular" level the technical aspects of the attempt of historical reconstruction,[4] and also to present the distillation of extensive and detailed research in the form of books, which have reached the status of becoming "best-sellers."[5] The meaning of Jesus at the intersection between religions, scriptures, and theologies, in his relationship to the marginalised, continues to appeal to perceptive people in varied situations.[6] At the academic level, the field of New Testament studies has shown its sensitivity to various theories emerging from diverse fields by wrestling with the challenges issuing from such theories. Various inputs from the fields of poststructuralism and postmodernism have been critically engaged with. One such effort is the book which in its wickedly delightful subtitle challenges us to explore startlingly fresh possibilities. In a candid admission the writer notes:

 

The feature of poststructuralism that draws me most strongly is ... essentially the same feature that once drew me to historical criticism. I refer to the latter's shape-shifting ability to make the familiar seem startlingly strange, books of the Holy Bible acquiring human (all too human) authors, ghostwriters, copy editors, places and dates of publication -- everything, in short, but an ISBN number.But poststructuralism's powers of redescription exceed even those of historical criticism.[7]

 

In the Indian context, this possibility of redescription has been passionately articulated by Dalit theologians such as V. Devasahayam, who, in reflecting on the Johannine affirmation that "the word became flesh and lived among us," notes:

 

The earlier formulations on Jesus Christ focussed on the first part, 'the word became flesh' while Dalit theology wants to focus on the latter part 'and dwelt among us' i.e. on the historical Jesus' identification with the oppressed. Because of Jesus' identification, Jesus is perceived as a corporate personality, as representing the oppressed collective. As a representative of the oppressed collective, his dwelling among us and participation in life is characterized by protest and struggle against the forces of oppression, sin  and death.[8]

 

In methodological comments in my doctoral work, in writing about Dalit theology, I asked:

 

In this context where those who have often been provided answers to questions that they neither asked, nor were permitted to ask, now question the very basis on which theologising has been done in the Indian context, would it be too presumptuous to claim that the return to the "fathers" could be one possible way of renewing theological reflection and praxis?[9]

 

This paper is an attempt to work out some implications of this question. Using some of the writings of selected early teachers of the faith, mainly from the second century, I attempt to raise questions regarding the way in which the person and work of Christ has been responded to and understood. I do not do this in a spirit of enumeration and description,[10] but rather, recognising our situatedness and the search for Jesus in an Indian context, offer these as a contribution to an ongoing dialogue where we take seriously the point made by Robert M. Grant, regarding the writers in the second century that

 

[t]hey reached no solutions with direct "relevance" for twentieth- or twenty-first-century theology, but they stated perennial problems in fresh ways that only later became classical and offered possible moves toward dealing with them. Later Christians need to review their exegetical search in order to continue it.[11]

 

Reviewing the exegetical search of the early writers involves, then, for those of us who have come into the inheritance of these traditions, the responsibility not only to interact with these inherited traditions, but also to interpret these in the context of the "extratextual hermeneutics that is slowly emerging as a distinctive Asian contribution to theological  methodology [which] seeks to transcend the textual, historical, and religious boundaries of Christian tradition and cultivate a deeper contact with the mysterious ways in which people of all religious persuasions have defined and appropriated humanity and divinity."[12]

 

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In Search of a Response: Clement of Rome and Ignatius of Antioch

 

The response of the teachers of the early church to the person and work of Jesus, both in the period which saw the emergence of the New Testament and in the decades following, was by no means uniform or standardized. The use of the phrase "teachers of the early church,"[13] is itself symptomatic of a reassessment of the role of those whose views came to prevail and those who were to be treated as deviants or heretics. It has been pointed out that "[n]othing is as problematic in contemporary work on the early Christian Church as Orthodoxy."[14] In his lively study on the archaeology of early Christianity, W. H. C. Frend, while asking "Whither Christian archaeology?" points out that

 

Church history is no longer a history of 'orthodoxy and heresy'. A whole new world of divergent beliefs and teaching has been opened up. We now know a great deal more than we did about Montanism, Donatism, Manichaeism and Monophysitism. Something of the fullness of the Christian heritage has been revealed and the vivid kaleidoscopic character of the lives and beliefs of its different adherents.[15]

 

One of the earliest documents from the time of the early church, contemporaneous with several New Testament writings, is the first epistle of Clement, bishop of Rome, written in about 95 CE, in response to reports that there was a schism, or at least deep divisions, in the church at Corinth.[16] In this context the writer reminds the recipients that

 

Christ belongs to the lowly of heart, and not to those who would exalt themselves over His flock. The coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Sceptre of God's Majesty, was in no pomp of pride and haughtiness - as it could so well have been - but in self-abasement ...[17]

 

Already in this early document there is a clear recognition that the theological undertaking could not be easily separated from the leadership struggles. The writer, regretting that those in Corinth had turned out of the office of bishop those who had been "serving honourably and without the least reproach," and with "impeccable devotion," candidly notes that "our Apostles knew, through our Lord Jesus Christ that there would be dissensions over the title of bishop."[18] The plea is made that one ought to fix one's thoughts on the "Blood of Christ," since "its outpouring for our salvation has opened the grace of repentance for all mankind."[19] The hope is expressed that Christian love would be manifested among the disputing parties since "our Lord Jesus Christ, at the will of God, gave His blood for us - His flesh for our flesh, His life for our lives."[20] Thus, an analysis of this letter reveals that the approach to Jesus at the turn of the first century as testified to in this epistle was one of reaffirming the nature of the lowly one, who did not care for pomp and prestige, and whose blood was the medium for salvation. There is no speculation as to how precisely this happens. We face ethical challenges through Jesus, who offers the possibility of repentance through the reminder of how he offered himself for us. The claim is set forth that the one "who keeps the divinely appointed decrees and statutes with humility and an unfailing consideration for others, and never looks back, will be enrolled in honour among the number of those who are saved through Jesus Christ, ... ."[21]

 

We now move on to a consideration of the seven letters that we have from Ignatius, bishop of Antioch, who was arrested in Antioch, and sent under guard to Rome where he was martyred during the reign of the emperor Trajan (98 - 117).[22]  For Ignatius, who harboured no illusions about the fact that at the end of his journey his end would come at the teeth of beasts in the amphitheatre of Rome,[23] the letters, with their plea to the recipients that their hope to retain their unity lay in their regarding "a bishop as the Lord himself,"[24] the letters also offer a vehicle to counter the Gnostic/Docetic heresy. "In an almost pathetic manner, he protests that it is not possible for him to accept an ethereal disembodied view of Christ. Since it is Christ's actual suffering in the body that establishes the mimetic model for martyrs like himself, to hold that Christ's suffering was only a 'thought experience' is unacceptable, indeed unthinkable."[25] With these two strands intertwining in the existential experience of Ignatius, it is possible to see how the emergence of theological affirmations about Christ emerge here in a context of existential imperatives, like the reality of schism, division, and breakage of unity, as well as the approach of the gift of death. Thus Ignatius affirms:

 

... since love does not permit me to be silent concerning you, I have accordingly taken it upon myself to exhort you that you might run together with God's purpose. Indeed Jesus Christ, our inseparable life, is the Father's purpose; as also the bishops, appointed in every quarter, are in the purpose of Jesus Christ.[26]

 

Thus, what we see here is that Christological affirmations are not detached from the prescriptions for the practical life-situations of the congregations. Such a link is clearly evident in the Christological hymn that Ignatius uses to proclaim his understanding of Christ. Condemning those who parody the Name through unworthy actions and evil deceit as "rabid dogs," Ignatius writes that

 

"There is one physician

both fleshly and spiritual

begotten and unbegotten,

come in flesh, God,

in death, true life,

both of Mary and of God,

first passible, and then impassible,

Jesus Christ, our Lord."[27]

 

This is immediately linked up with the quick statement to those who are entirely of God that even though there are those who are oriented to fleshly things, who cannot do spiritual things, and vice versa, just like faith cannot succumb to things of unfaithfulness and the other way around, but "what you do even according to the flesh, that is spiritual; for you do all things in Jesus Christ."[28] Thus Jesus who bears in himself the ambivalence of seeming contradictions is the one who helps overcome the ambiguity of incompatibility in the believer. The depth of Ignatius' feelings against those who would interpret the passion of Jesus in a docetic manner, is revealed when he writes that those who claim that Jesus "suffered in appearance" are unbelievers, since "I know and believe that he was in the flesh even after the resurrection." This is made clear through the fact that even after the resurrection, Jesus "ate and drank with them as a being of flesh, although spiritually united with the Father,"[29] thus denying any docetic tendency to spiritualize the resurrection. Although it can be shown from an analysis of the individual letters that the "opponents" being addressed are varied and the situations in the different congregations diverse,[30] nevertheless the challenge that is thrown down is to affirm the reality of the actual suffering of Christ in the given situation since

 

[n]othing that appears is good; for our God Jesus Christ rather appears by being in the Father. The deed is not a matter of persuasive rhetoric, but Christianity is characterized by greatness when it is hated by the world.[31]

 

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In Search of Legitimacy: Justin Martyr and Clement of Alexandria

 

There is an element of pathetic arrogance in the apology of Justin (c. 100 - 165) when he writes in his First Apology (addressed grandiloquently to the Emperor, his son, the court philosophers, the Senate, and the Roman people), that there is a clear break in the behavioural pattern of those who "since our persuasion by the Word, ... follow the only unbegotten God through His Son," in that former fornicators are now chaste, have given up the use of magic methods, have given up an aquisitory tendency in terms of money and goods in favour of pooling resources, and have overcome divisions on account of differences and past hatreds and prejudices.[32] It is this redeemed community that has to present its understanding of Christ, not as an in-house theme for internal consumption, but in relation to the questions, queries, and allegations being made about the Christians, "who are unjustly hated and wantonly abused, myself being one of them."[33] For Justin, the inescapable connection between Christ, who is "both Son and Apostle of God the Father of all," and the name Christian,[34] ought to lead to the seeking of parallels with what the Romans were most familiar with in their imagery of the divine beings. Thus he claims that "the Word, who is the first-birth of God, was produced without sexual union, and that He, Jesus Christ, our Teacher, was crucified and died, and rose again, and ascended into heaven, we propound nothing different from what you believe regarding those whom you esteem sons of Jupiter."[35] Justin goes on to point to examples as well as paper over disreputable elements in these narratives, and writes that

 

the Son of God called Jesus, even if only a man by ordinary generation, yet on account of His wisdom, is worthy to be called the Son of God; for all writers call God the Father of men and of gods. And if we assert that the Word of God was born of God in a peculiar manner, different from ordinary generation, let this ... be no extraordinary thing to you, who say that Mercury is the angelic word of God.[36]

 

Justin goes on to say that even crucifixion has its parallels. However the intention of Justin is revealed in his comment that having set the case of Jesus within the parameters of Roman religion he would go on to "prove Him superior."[37] What is of importance to us here is not the enumeration of the various proofs and  convoluted arguments based on Scripture passages that Justin assembles to "prove" his case (although one cannot help but being credulous about anyone who builds up a case based on what may have the status of scriptures for a believing community, but, in practical terms, is of no consequence for those whom he purports to address), but statements about Jesus ("in whom abideth the seed [spevrma] of God"), such as his assertion that the blood of the Word, "the first power after God, ... should not be of human seed, but of divine power."[38]

 

For Justin, the argument culminates in an affirmation of the universality of the Christian principle, leading to a claim of "anonymous Christians."  He writes:

 

[w]e have been taught that Christ is the first-born of God, and we have declared ... that He is the Word of whom every race of men were partakers; and those who lived reasonably (meta; log´ou) are Christians, even though they have been thought atheists; ... [39]

 

Thus, for Justin, the struggle is to show that the Jesus who was crucified is simultaneously the first-born of God, under whom all human beings stand under judgement.[40] For him all human learning and philosophy is ultimately derived from Moses, who is "older than all writers."[41] Hence, the author of a recent study of Justin notes that

 

[i]n Jewish thought the Word was the source of being, the origin of Law, the written Torah and a person next to God. Early Christianity announced the incarnation of this Person, and Justin makes the further claim that Scripture is the parent of all truth among the nations, and that the Lord who is revealed to us in the New Testament is the author and the hermeneutic canon of the Old.[42]

 

In the writings of Clement of Alexandria, (c. 150 - 215), we find clear evidence that Jesus is now being seen more and more as the one who integrates everything in him and through him. This is clearly spelt out in statements where Clement argues that  Jesus, the Son, in whom all the powers of the Spirit terminate is

 

neither simply one thing as  one thing, not many things as parts, but one thing as all things; whence also He is all things. For He is the circle of all powers rolled and united into one unity. Wherefore the Word is called the Alpha and  the Omega, of whom alone the end becomes beginning, and ends again at the original beginning without any break. Wherefore also to believe in Him, and by Him, is to become a unit, being indissolubly united in Him; and to disbelieve is to be separated, disjoined, divided.[43]

 

Thus, for Clement, the person of Christ now emerges as the lynch-pin which holds everything together. In addition, Clement "accepts as Divine teaching whatever sayings of the philosophers seem to him to promote religion and virtue. As regards religion and the theory of the universe he finds this teaching chiefly in Plato, as regards ethics in the Stoics, but for both he leans much on the authority of Philo ... ."[44] Such dependence is revealed in the various attributes he applies to the Son, such as the Name, Face, House, Image of God, Heavenly Man, Charioteer, Pilot, Sum of Ideas and Sum of Powers.[45] Calling for the fruits that result from "the training of Christ," Clement says that all speculation and interpretation about God and God's activity has to recognise that "the greatest and most regal work of God is the salvation of humanity," and that in this task the Word functions as the Instructor, from whom "we learn frugality and humility, and all that pertains to love of truth, love of man, and love of excellence."[46] With all his usage and sympathy for the philosophical quest, Clement can nevertheless assert that, "[p]hilosophers ... are children, unless they have been made men by Christ."[47] This was because philosophy was a preparation to bring people to Christ, since Christian doctrines are anticipated in Greek philosophy, in particular in the teachings of the Timaeus of Plato, which, Clement is convinced, was learnt by Plato from Moses.[48]

 

One point to be noted is that in his desire to fit Christ into a philosophical jacket and draw parallels, Clement tends to move in a direction where the earthly Christ proves occasionally to be an embarrassment. Quoting Valentinus, one of the most significant Gnostic teachers of the second century, with approval, Clement goes along with the thinking that "Jesus had a digestive system so well-balanced and regulated that he was wholly spared the embarrassment of excretion."[49] All this leads to the inescapable conclusion that the rarefied atmosphere of philosophical speculation can often cause the feet-on-the ground dimension to be lost sight of.[50] However, both Clement and Justin Martyr cannot be faulted in terms of not being sensitive to either actual, potential, or imagined questions emerging from the religious atmosphere in which certain forms of discourse about Christ was not only necessary, but inevitable.

 

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In Search of "Orthodoxy": Irenaeus of Lyons

 

In her "Introduction" to a special issues of the Journal of Early Christian Studies, which had as its theme "The Markings of Heresy: Body, Text, and Community in Late Ancient Christianity," Virginia Burrus noted that the essays collected

 

exhibit interest in the social and discursive processes of "demarcation" by which orthodoxies define, and thereby in some sense create, heresies -- not only as the inevitable cartographic by-products of the impulse to draw boundaries and create centers, but also (paradoxically, and in multiple ways) as necessary sources of "nourishment" for orthodoxies themselves.[51]

 

The writings of Irenaeus, (c. 130 - 200), especially his massive work Against the Heresies (Adversus Haereses), is a case in point. Irenaeus wrote at a time when the very understanding of what it was that comprised the quintessence of Christianity was at stake.[52] He also wrote as bishop of Lyons, where in 177, a violent uprising had taken place against the Christians, resulted in the martyrdom of  almost fifty Christian men and women.[53] In the centuries immediately following, the issues under debate were more oriented to the understanding of Jesus as the Christ,[54] and then the question of the Trinity,[55] which led to the great ecumenical councils, to say nothing of the "conversion" of Constantine.[56] "Although the Christian writers of the first two centuries had to address basic questions of trinitarian and christological importance, they had to do so in a time of testing from external forces that the later church, more confident of its continued existence, did not have to face."[57]

 

For Irenaeus, in the face of much speculation about the nature of God in relation to Platonic philosophy as well as Gnostic claims (among many others!), much effort was expended in affirming the godness of God. After enumerating an almost doxological list of the attributes of God, Irenaeus turns to Christ and affirms that the Son is "eternally co-existing with the Father, from of old, yea, from the beginning," and "always reveals the Father to Angels, Archangels, Powers, Virtues, and all to whom He wills that God should be revealed."[58] The work of this Word was indicated in his affirmation that "the Word of God ... dwelt in man, and became the Son of man, that he might accustom man to receive God, and God to dwell in man, according to the good pleasure of the Father."[59]

 

God's Word is "our Lord Jesus Christ, who in the last times was made a man among men, that he might join the end to the beginning, that is man to God."[60] For Irenaeus, the Word remains a Teacher, "who did, through his transcendent love, become what we are, that He might bring us to be even what He is Himself."[61] This affirmation comes in his treatise which has been devoted to the explication and refutation of various "heresies" including that of Simon Magus and the Simonians, Nicolaus and the Nicolaitans, Meander, Cerinthus (in the Apostolic and sub-Apostolic era) Carpocrates and the Carpocratians, Saturninus, Basilides and the Basilidians, Credo or Cerdon, Valentinus and the Valentinians (who were Gnostic teachers of the second century[62]), and other teachers and sects of the second century including Marcion and the Marcionites, the Ebionites and the Encratites.[63] Faced with such a multitude of wares in the marketplace of religious possibilities and options, Irenaeus could only offer a clear alternative in terms of a closed system where "[s]alvation depended on the acceptance of set forms of belief, organization, and worship."[64]

 

The clearest affirmation of the humanity of Jesus, in this context comes when Irenaeus declares

 

in every respect, too, He is man, the formation of God; and thus He took up man into Himself, the invisible becoming visible, the incomprehensible being made comprehensible, the impassible becoming capable of suffering, and the Word being made man, thus summing up all things in Himself: so that as in super-celestial, spiritual, and invisible things, the Word of God is supreme, so also in things visible and corporeal He might possess the supremacy, and, taking to Himself the pre-eminence, as well as constituting Himself Head of the Church, He might draw all things to Himself at the proper time.[65]

 

With Irenaeus we come to the end of our analysis of second-century Christology,[66] an analysis which has showed us how varied life-situations result in kaleidoscopic responses. In my own work on Cyprian, I emphasised that "it is precisely within the kaleidoscope that the quest for memory ought to be located, 'as part of a discursive formation, rather than as part of a continuous tradition with roots stretching back to antiquity.' "[67]

Conclusion: In Search of Connections

 

For us in the Indian and Asian context, an analysis of the Christological issues and themes which so engaged the teachers of the early church in the second century, as well as the adherents of the Jesus-movement, ought not to be a mere exercise in historical curiosity or because of the allure of antiquarian excavation. All Christians in India - Orthodox, Catholics, Protestants and Pentecostals - have inherited a legacy of God-talk and Christ-imagery. No inheritance remains static. We have brought to such an inheritance our own peculiar emphases, through the reality of our own situatedness in terms of location, privilege or lack of it, religious background and through the varied nature of our encounter with missionary bodies. A rediscovery and a re-reading of those who wrestled with the issue of the understanding of Christ in the second century can only enable us to "free ourselves from the belief that either Nicaea or Chalcedon was predestined."[68] At the same time the rediscovery of this period is of crucial importance, a period coming well before the Constantinian turning-point, which in the words of one perceptive commentator "did not cause the triumph of Christianity. Rather, it was the first, and most significant step, in slowing down its progress, draining its vigor, and distorting its moral vision. Most of the evils associated with Christianity since the middle of the fourth century can be traced to establishment."[69] The second century is the period before the "peasant Jesus [is] grasped ... by imperial faith ... a progress that happened so fast and moved so swiftly, that was accepted so readily and criticised so lightly ... ."[70]

 

Those of us who venture back to such writings do so in order to "reinscribe the past, reactivate it, relocate it, resignify it."[71] Like the teachers of the early church whom we have considered, we look back  to the historical Jesus because we are privileged and permitted through him "to taste the wisdom of eternity."[72]

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[2] S. J. Samartha, One Christ - Many Religions: Toward a Revised Christology (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1991), pp. 93 - 94.

 

[3] Mark Tully, An Investigation into the Lives of Jesus: God, Jew, Rebel, The Hidden Jesus (London: Penguin, 1996).

 

[4] One example is the work by Graham Stanton, Gospel Truth? Today's Quest for Jesus of Nazareth [1995] (London: Fount, 1997).

 

[5] An example is the book by John Dominic Crossan, Jesus: A Revolutionary Biography (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1994).

 

[6] See the rich and varied collection of essays in Leonard Swidler and Paul Mojzes, eds., The Uniqueness of Jesus: A Dialogue with Paul Knitter (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1997). Knitter himself (in his "Can our 'One and Only' Also Be a 'One Among Many'? A Response to Responses") writes: "Today the uniqueness of Jesus can be found in his insistence that salvation or the Reign of God must be realised in this world through human actions of love and justice, with a special concern for the victims of oppression or exploitation." (p. 171).

 

[7] Stephen D. Moore, Poststructuralism and the New Testament: Derrida and Foucault at the Foot of the Cross (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1994), p. 117.

Jacquelyn Grant, in her White Women's Christ and Black Women's Jesus (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1989) writes that the "misconception affirmed by classical Christology and held to by most Christians has distorted our image of Jesus. What is required is a re-imaging of Jesus." (p. 189).

 

[8] "Introduction [to the Bible Studies]," in V. Devasahayam, ed., Frontiers of Dalit Theology (Madras: ISPCK/Gurukul, 1997), p. 5. In the Bible Study entitled "Identity in Theology," Devasahayam notes: "Earlier formulations of Christian theology have failed to explicate relevantly the salvation in Jesus Christ in the context of caste oppression and to arouse in the Dalits the consciousness of being in bondage and an urge for liberative struggles." (p. 18).

Such a concern is echoed by those who point out that the inadequacies of several classical formulations of the significance of the person and work of Christ did not take into account the social setting and the political implications of the ministry of Jesus. In a survey article it has been pointed out that even in North America the recognition has emerged  that Jesus was "deeply sociopolitical, though not ... an advocate of armed struggle against Rome." See Marcus J. Borg, "Portraits of Jesus in Contemporary North American Scholarship," in Harvard Theological Review, Vol. 84, No. 1 (1991), p. 21.

 

[9] J. Jayakiran Sebastian, "... baptisma unum in sancta ecclesia ...": A Theological Appraisal of the Baptismal Controversy in the Work and Writings of Cyprian of Carthage (Delhi: ISPCK, 1997), p. 6.

 

[10] For the most comprehensive such survey, see Aloys Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition: Vol. I, 2nd rev. ed., trans. John Bowden (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1975).

 

[11] In the "Preface" to his Jesus After the Gospels: The Christ of the Second Century (London: SCM Press, 1990), p. 14.

 

[12] R. S. Sugirtharajah, "Introduction," in R. S. Sugirtharajah, ed., Frontiers in Asian Christian Theology: Emerging Trends (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1994), p. 3.

 

[13] The revised rules and regulations for the Master of Theology programme of the Senate of Serampore College include the possibility of doing an M.Th. in Christian Theology, "With Specialization in Early Teachings of Faith." See communication from the Registrar dated 30.04.98, pp. 25 - 27.

 

[14] Paul McKechnie, "'Women's Religion' and Second-Century Christianity," in Journal of Ecclesiastical History, Vol. 47, No. 3 (1996), p. 409.

 

[15] The Archaeology of Early Christianity: A History (London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1996), p. 385.

 

[16] For a brief introduction and explanation, see Gerald Bonner, "Schism and Church Unity," in Ian Hazlett, ed., Early Christianity: Origin and Evolution to AD 600 - In Honour of W H C Frend, 2nd impression (London: SPCK, 1991), p. 221. Also see the introduction to the translation of the epistle in Maxwell Staniforth, trans., Andrew Louth, rev. trans., intro., and ed., Early Christian Writings: The Apostolic Fathers (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1987), pp. 19 - 22.

 

[17] The First Epistle of Clement to the Corinthians, 16. Translation in Early Christian Writings, p. 29.

 

[18] The First Epistle of Clement to the Corinthians, 44. Translation in Early Christian Writings, p. 41. The affirmation is also made that "[i]t will be better for you to be lowly and respected members of Christ's flock, than to be apparently enjoying positions of eminence but in fact to be cast out from every hope of Him." (The First Epistle of Clement to the Corinthians, 57. Translation in Early Christian Writings, p. 46.)

Such an inference anticipates the bitter warning of Tertullian, at the turn of the third century, in his treatise De Baptismo, XVII, 2, that "the striving to become bishop is the mother of all schism." (my translation).

 

[19] The First Epistle of Clement to the Corinthians, 7. Translation in Early Christian Writings, p. 25.

 

[20] The First Epistle of Clement to the Corinthians, 49. Translation in Early Christian Writings, p. 43.

 

[21] The First Epistle of Clement to the Corinthians, 58. Translation in Early Christian Writings, p. 47.

 

[22] On Ignatius and his epistles, see Eusebius, Historia ecclesiastica, 3.36. English translation in G. A. Williamson, trans., Andrew Louth, rev., ed., and intro., Eusebius, The History of the Church from Christ to Constantine (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1989), pp. 97 - 100. The best annotated translation (with extensive analysis and commentary) is found in William R. Schoedel, Ignatius of Antioch: A Commentary on the Letters of Ignatius of Antioch (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1985).

 

[23] "... let me be the food of wild beasts through whom it is possible to attain God; I am the wheat of God and I am ground by the teeth of wild beasts that I may be found to be pure bread; ..." (Ignatius to the Romans, 4.1, trans., Schoedel, Ignatius of Antioch, p. 175.

 

[24] Ignatius to the Ephesians, 6.1, trans., Schoedel, Ignatius of Antioch, p. 54. This thought is also found in affirmations like "[w]here the shepherd [the bishop] is, follow there like sheep," and "all who are of God and Jesus Christ, these are with the bishop ... ." (Ignatius to the Philadelphians, 2.1, and 3.2, trans., Schoedel, Ignatius of Antioch, p. 197). The use of the word kaqolikhv as applied to the church is found in the affirmation: "Wherever the bishop appears, there let the congregation be, just as wherever Jesus Christ is, there is the whole [kaqolikhv] church." (Ignatius to the Smyrnaeans, 8.2, trans., Schoedel, Ignatius of Antioch, p. 238, with comments on pp. 243 - 244). These words are prefaced by Ignatius underlining that no one should do anything "apart from the bishop that has to do with the church." (8.1).

 

[25] Brent D. Shaw, "Body/Power/Identity: The Passion of the Martyrs," in Journal of Early Christian Studies, Vol. 4, No. 3 (1996), p. 290.

This emphasis on suffering in the flesh and the link to salvation is also found in Tertullian, whose understanding is encapsulated in the phrase "caro salutis cardo," from the treatise De resurrectione mortuorum, 8.2, translated by Gedaliahu G. Stroumsa as "the flesh is the axis of salvation," in his article, "Caro salutis cardo: Shaping the Person in Early Christian Thought," History of Religion, Vol. 30, No. 1 (1990), p. 34 with note 33.

 

[26] Ignatius to the Ephesians, 3.2, trans., Schoedel, Ignatius of Antioch, p. 48.

 

[27] Ignatius to the Ephesians, 7.2, trans., Schoedel, Ignatius of Antioch, p. 59.

 

[28] Ignatius to the Ephesians, 8.2, trans., Schoedel, Ignatius of Antioch, p. 63.

 

[29] Ignatius to the Smyrnaeans, 2.1 - 3.3, trans., Schoedel, Ignatius of Antioch, p. 225. In 3.2 words of Jesus are recorded: "Take, handle me, and see that I am not a bodiless demon."

 

[30] See Jerry L. Sumney, "Those Who 'Ignorantly Deny Him': The Opponents of Ignatius of Antioch," in Journal of Early Christian Studies, Vol. 1, No. 4 (1993), pp. 345 - 365.

 

[31] Ignatius to the Romans, 3.3., trans. Schoedel, Ignatius of Antioch, p. 170.

 

[32] The First Apology of Justin, XIV, trans. in A. Roberts and J. Donaldson, The Apostolic Fathers with Justin Martyr and Irenaeus, The Ante-Nicene Fathers, Vol. I, American ed., rev. A. Cleveland Coxe (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1884), p. 167. (Hereafter ANF, I).

 

[33] First Apology, I, trans. in ANF I, p. 163. A compact survey of Justin's thought is found in Robert M. Grant, Greek Apologists of the Second Century (London: SCM Press Ltd., 1988), pp. 50 - 73.

 

[34] First Apology, XII, trans. in ANF I, p. 166.

 

[35] First Apology, XXI, trans. in ANF I, p. 170.

 

[36] First Apology, XXII, trans. in ANF I, p. 170.

 

[37] First Apology, XXII, trans. in ANF I, p. 170.

 

[38] First Apology, XXXII, trans. in ANF I, pp. 173 - 174. A massive conglomeration of texts from the Hebrew scriptures is gathered and interpreted in light of the Christ-event in the "Dialogue of Justin, Philosopher and Martyr, with Trypho, a Jew." (translated in  ANF I, pp. 194 - 270.

 

[39] First Apology, XLVI, trans. in ANF I, p. 178.

 

[40] First Apology, LIII, trans. in ANF I, p. 180. In the Second Apology, X, Justin argues that ancient lawgivers and philosophers could make certain assertions which were based on the "finding and contemplating some part of the Word. But since they did not know the whole of the Word, which is Christ, they often contradicted themselves." (ANF I, p. 191).

 

[41] First Apology, LIV, trans. in ANF I, p. 181. He even says that Plato "borrowed" from Moses, who is "of greater antiquity than the Greek writers ... ." (First Apology, LIX, trans. in ANF I, p. 182).

 

[42] M. J. Edwards, "Justin's Logos and the Word of God," in Journal of Early Christian Studies, Vol. 3, No. 3 (1995), p. 279.

 

[43] Clement of Alexandria, The Stromata, or Miscellanies, Book IV, Chap. XXV, trans. in A. Roberts and J. Donaldson, Fathers of the Second Century, The Ante-Nicene Fathers, Vol. II, American ed., rev. A. Cleveland Coxe (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1913), p. 438. (Hereafter ANF, II).

 

[44] F. J. A. Hort and J. B. Mayor, Clement of Alexandria: Miscellanies Book VII (London: Macmillan, 1902), pp. xxxv - xxxvi.

 

[45] For a list with references, see Charles Bigg, The Christian Platonists of Alexandria (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1886), p. 67 with note 4.

 

[46] The Instructor (Paedagogus), Book I, Chap. XIII, trans. in ANF II, p. 235.

 

[47] Stromata, Book I, Chap. XI, trans. in ANF II, p. 312.

 

[48] See the chapter "The Light to the Gentiles," by Jaroslav Pelikan in his book Jesus Through the Centuries: His Place in the History of Culture (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1985), esp. pp. 38 - 41, with notes on p. 238.

 

[49] Blayle Leyerle, "Clement of Alexandria on the Importance of Table Etiquette," in Journal of Early Christian Studies, Vol. 3, No. 2 (1995), pp. 129 - 130, with note 33 on p. 130.

 

[50] One must not lose sight of the fact that parallel to such literary work, a growing corpus of "apocryphal" writing was being circulated and transmitted. J. K. Elliott, who prepared the comprehensive translation of such early texts notes: "These apocryphal books are of importance as historical witnesses to the beliefs, prayers, practices, and interests of the society that produced and preserved them. There may be little in their contents to encourage the modern faithful, but, as literary sources that inspired much in Christianity, they have an unrivalled importance." In his "Introduction," J. K. Elliott, ed., The Apocryphal Jesus: Legends of the Early Church (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), p. 3.

 

[51] Journal of Early Christian Studies, Vol. 4, No. 4 (1996), p. 403.

 

[52] The Epicurean Greek philosopher Celsus' work attacking the Christians entitled True Doctrine (ajlhqhß lovgoß), to which Origen would respond in Contra Celsum after the year 245, comes from about the year 170. On Celsus see the chapter, "Celsus: A Conservative Intellectual," in Robert A. Wilken, The Christians as the Romans Saw Them (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1984), pp. 94 - 125. Also see Henry Chadwick, trans., intro., notes, Origen: Contra Celsum (Cambridge: University Press, 1953).

 

[53] See the chapter, "The Popular Uprising Against the Christians of Lyons in 177," in Jacques Rossel, The Roots of Western Europe, trans. John Lyle (Basle: Basileia Publications, 1995), pp. 49 - 61.

 

[54] See Richard A. Norris, Jr., trans. and ed., The Christological Controversy, Sources of Early Christian Thought (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1980). For another important perspective see V. C. Samuel, "The Christological Controversy and the Division of the Church," in M. K. Kuriakose, ed., Orthodox Identity in India: Essays in honour of V. C. Samuel (Bangalore: Rev. Dr. V. C. Samuel's 75th Birthday Celebration Committee, 1988), pp. 129 - 164.

 

[55] See William G. Rusch, trans. and ed., The Trinitarian Controversy, Sources of Early Christian Thought (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1980).

 

[56] See Alistair Kee, Constantine Versus Christ: The Triumph of Ideology (London: SCM Press, 1982).

 

[57] Arland J. Hultgren and Steven A. Haggmark, eds., The Earliest Christian Heretics: Readings From Their Opponents (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996), p. 2.

 

[58] Irenaeus Against Heresies, Book II, Chap. XXX, 9, trans. in ANF, I, p. 406.

 

[59] Irenaeus Against Heresies, Book III, Chap. XX, 2, trans. in ANF, I, p. 430.

 

[60] Irenaeus Against Heresies, Book IV, Chap. XX, 4, trans. in ANF, I, p. 488.

 

[61] Irenaeus Against Heresies, Book V, Preface, trans. in ANF, I, p. 526.

 

[62] For an analysis and interpretation of Gnosticism, see W. H. C. Frend, The Rise of Christianity (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1984), chap. 6 "Acute Hellenization 135 - 93," pp. 194 - 228. For an analysis of Irenaeus' "indebtedness to the methodological orientation of Empiric medicine," see W. R. Schoedel, "Theological Method in Irenaeus," in Journal of Theological Studies, n.s., Vol. 35, Part 1 (1984), pp. 31 - 49.

 

[63] Listed and analysed, along with translations in Hultgren and Haggmark, eds., The Earliest Christian Heretics, passim.

 

[64] Frend, The Rise of Christianity, p. 248.

 

[65] Irenaeus Against Heresies, Book III, Chap. XVI, 6, trans. in ANF, I, p. 443.

 

[66] Robert M. Grant, in his Jesus After the Gospels, explores much of the same ground, but with different emphases and other hermeneutical, especially philosophical tools. He does not consider Clement of Alexandria, but devotes a chapter to Theophilus of Antioch, "who developed the Logos doctrine in a way that took it close to Greco-Roman philosophy and mythology, while on the other hand he spoke about Jesus as prophet, moral teacher, and restorer of the human good lost by Adam. ... His Logos apparently did not become incarnate." (p. 110).

 

[67] See J. Jayakiran Sebastian, ..."baptisma unum in sancta ecclesia...",  p. 178. The comment in quotes is by Shawn Kelley from an article entitled "Poststructuralism and/or Afrocentrism," in Eugene H. Lovering, Jr., ed., Society of Biblical Literature: 1995 Seminar Papers (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995), p. 243. This article reminds Biblical scholars of the need to consider the implications of racism in the history of scholarship within their discipline, and points out that "the place of race in the formation of our discipline remains unrecognized and invisible. Since it remains invisible, it is unchallenged. ... We must develop a detailed sense of where and how racism has insinuated its ways into our thinking, and must recognize the subtle ways that it continues to infuse our thinking."     (p. 248).

 

[68] Robert M. Grant, Jesus After the Gospels, p. 13.

 

[69] Rodney Stark, author of The Rise of Christianity: A Sociologist Reconsiders History (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996), in his response "E Contrario," to articles which discussed his book in the Journal of Early Christian Studies, Vol. 6, No. 2 (1998), p. 267.

 

[70] John Dominic Crossan, Jesus: A Revolutionary Biography, p. 201.

 

[71] Homi K. Bhabha, "Culture's In-Between," in Stuart Hall and Paul du Gay, eds., Questions of Cultural Identity (London: Sage Publications, 1996),   p. 59.

 

[72] The First Epistle of Clement to the Corinthians, 36. Translation in Early Christian Writings, p. 37.

Martyrs and Heretics: Aspects of the Contribution of Women to Early Christian Tradition

"For every woman who makes herself male will enter the kingdom of heaven."[2]

 

"Christianity did enlarge the possibilities for women. The really important shift in belief here is that commitment to God may require, in both men and women, abandonment of duties to family and State. For the first time, women (some women) could reject marriage and child-bearing, and live at home with their mothers, or in solitude, or in a community of women. Prayer and Bible study could displace domestic life, whereas literature and philosophy had had to fit round it. Women had always been able to take part in religious cult and make offerings to the gods, but they could now achieve lasting fame by devoting their wealth to the Church and themselves to God's service. Spiritual struggles became as interesting as politics; women still hardly ever wrote books, but people wrote books about women." [3]

 

These two quotations, one from source material and the other from a perceptive commentator, indicate the various levels of ambiguity regarding women that existed both in the very early period, at the time of the emergence of the New Testament, and at the time when Christianity had become the established religion of the Roman Empire. While it may be true that "women hardly ever wrote books," modern research has indicated that there are at least two ways in which the role of women in the early church can be reconstructed. Firstly through an analysis of the extant writings that we have by women,[4] and secondly through an analysis of what men wrote about women.[5] In this presentation, I will focus on two aspects of women's experience or the interpretation of women's experience, which I hope will give us an entry into our discussion of feminist/womanist[6] perspectives and praxis in the early church. I will be focusing on the writings of Tertullian, who plays a prominent role in the history of Christian doctrine not only because of his development of a vocabulary to express the doctrine of the trinity,[7] but also because of his writings to and on women, and his understanding and interpretation of women's experiences. Limiting our analysis to this period (the end of the second and the first two decades of the third century) and concentrating on one "Father," is important because thereby one can evade the tendency to stretch the material and moreover avoid superficiality. In addition, when one has wrestled with such material, one has a greater grasp of those issues and themes which played a dominant role in the construction of attitudes toward women, and also contributed to the self-understanding of women in the time of the early church.

 

Such an exercise is also important not because it involves some kind of antiquarian interest devoid of contemporary relevance but because it is something which ought to be undertaken in coming to terms with attitudes and responses to the "role" of women in the church today. An important point to be borne in mind is that made by Elizabeth A. Clark who writes:

 

Presumably feminist theorists would agree that narrative can be used not only to open up the past and connect it with the present, but to sketch a vision of the future: here, narrative acquires a potentially utopian function. Given the varying political functions of narrative, it will be of interest to note how frequently the Church Fathers deploy narrative to restrict women's activities in their own day, to offer 'strategies of containment.'[8]

 

For those of us working and writing in the Indian context, it must be underlined that this is not an activity alien to the reality of the present.  In his Presidential Address to the North American Patristic Society in 1994, Frederick W. Norris acknowledged that "some of the most interesting voices interpreting early Christian texts are Christian theologians from Africa, Asia, and Latin America," and that some of them "make historical comments and acknowledge that their sense of what the texts mean is formed by their present commitments and their membership in specific communities."[9]  When this is so, then, it is in search, not so much of answers, but rather of a better understanding and appreciation of "the truth that scientific study of the ancient tradition of the Church is indispensable to success in comprehending the roots of differences and in discerning the centre of Christian theology,"[10] that we ought to approach the texts produced by the early church.

 

It is through the re-reading  and reappropriation of texts from the early period of the formation and quest for identity of the church that one can reclaim, question, and integrate the experiences of women, recognising that - then as now - the "universalizing effect of the Christian master narrative ... concealed the subaltern status of many of its characters."[11]

 

At the same time, I recognise that  it is as a male reader that I have come to the reading of texts from the early church and I have been chastened and challenged by warnings such as those articulated by Tania Modleski who writes

 

Recognizing that women have long been held prisoners of male texts, genres, and canons, many feminist critics have argued for the necessity of constructing a theory of the female reader and have offered a variety of strategies by which she may elude her captors.[12]

 

Bearing these points in mind, I would like us to examine some case-studies which present attitudes regarding women in the time of the early church. These texts and studies do not exhaust the various ways in which women were perceived, and their roles commented upon, by writers of the early church, but they offer points of departure for a discussion on the contribution of women to the life and witness of the early church without forgetting that the "ancient sources and modern historians agree that primary conversion to Christianity was far more prevalent among females than among males"[13] in the time of the early church.

 

* * * * *

 

 

Martyrs[14]: "... so great a woman... ."

 

The first great Latin writer and theologian from Carthage in Roman North Africa, Tertullian (c.155 - c.230/240)[15] had a convoluted relationship with the various currents and movements which struggled to gain prominence in the second half of the second century and the first half of the third century. Tertullian recognised that, as martyrs, women were on par with men, but when it came to church organisation and the duties and functions therein, "he gave them a considerably more circumscribed role," and "never includes women in a hierarchy of the church."[16] This is clearly exemplified in his harsh comments regarding women in his treatise On the Dress of Women (De culta feminarum) where he writes:

 

God's judgement on this sex lives on in our age; the guilt necessarily lives on as well. You are the Devil's gateway; you are the unsealer of that tree; you are the first forsaker of the divine law; you are the one who persuaded him whom the Devil was not brave enough to approach; you so lightly crushed the image of God, the man Adam; because of your punishment, that is, death, even the Son of God had to die. And you think to adorn yourself beyond your "tunics of skin" (Gen. 3:21)?"[17]

 

In other treatises, too, like On the Veiling of Virgins (De virginibus velandis) and Exhortation to Chastity (De exhortatione castitatis) continued on the theme that "the Church was a somber assembly. No  person in it, and much less a woman, could dare to claim to be exceptional."[18] Insisting on the importance of the veil for women, responding to a situation where a group of young women in the church of Carthage, claiming that the status and virtue achieved by their renunciation freed them from social conventions (which insisted that women remain veiled in church), boldly took their positions in church with faces uncovered and head unveiled, Tertullian reiterates forcefully that there is great danger in such actions because

 

[t]he very concupiscence of non-concealment is not modest: it experiences somewhat which is no mark of a virgin, - the study of pleasing, of course, ay, and (of pleasing) men. Let her strive as much as you please with an honest mind; she must necessarily be imperilled by the public exhibition of herself, while she is penetrated by the gaze of untrustworthy and multitudinous eyes, while she is tickled by pointing fingers, while she is too well loved, while she feels a warmth creep over her amid assiduous embraces and kisses. Thus the forehead heardens; thus the sense of shame wears away; thus it relaxes; thus is learned the desire of pleasing in another way![19]

 

What is to be noted here is the significance given to the male gaze which is prioritized in determining the behaviour of women.[20] Peter Brown in analysing this and other texts from Tertullian writes that the "misogyny to which Tertullian appealed so insistently was, in his opinion, based on unalterable facts of nature: women were seductive, and Christian baptism did nothing to change this fact."[21]

 

If this is so, then the role of Tertullian in preserving, through redaction,[22] the dramatic, movingly vivid account of the martyrdom of a recently baptised young woman, the Roman citizen, Perpetua, in the amphitheatre of Carthage in about the year 203, ought to give us clues to the understanding of his attitude towards women as members of the church as opposed to women as martyrs. This attitude is encapsulated in the remark made by a perceptive analyst of the complex processes at work in the early church, Robin Lane Fox, who begins his chapter entitled "Persecution and Martyrdom," with the words: "The most excellent Christians in the early Church were neither virgins nor the visionaries. They were the Christians whom pagans put to death."[23] The exceptional courage and unshakeable conviction exhibited by women martyrs had been documented before the time of Tertullian. Among the martyrs at Lyons in 177, was the domestic slave, Blandina, of whose death - being finally killed by having her throat cut, after surviving horrible tortures including ruthless scourging, being roasted on a red-hot griddle, and being gored bloody by a bull while bound in a net - it stands recorded that even the pagans themselves admitted that none of their women had ever endured so many terrible tortures.[24] Such a death only served to reinforce the idea prevalent in the church that "[t]he martyrs were, after the Apostles, the supreme representatives of the community of the faithful in God's presence. In them the communion of saints was most tangibly epitomised."[25] Keeping this in mind we need to consider whether this company was seen as something exclusive and, in a sense, separate from the community of faithful worshippers; in other words, did different rules apply to those who claimed the martyr's crown and to those who pursued a different path of Christian obedience?

 

The account of the martyrdom of  Perpetua, who at the time of her death was twenty-two and had a nursing infant, is remarkable in so far as the source material  that is available to us has not only readactional sections but also sections which claim to be written directly by Perpetua herself.[26]  "This account gives us a rare insight into the thoughts of a Christian martyr and an even rarer insight into the experience of a woman in the early days of Christianity."[27] The actual account of the martyrdom, which follows dramatic and moving appeals to Perpetua to respect her father's grey hair and to have pity on her mother and siblings, to have consideration on her nursing infant son, is poignant and evocative. Those martyred along with Perpetua included the slave woman Felicitas, who shortly before had given birth. On the appointed day

 

Perpetua went along with a shining countenance and calm step, as the beloved of the God, as a wife of Christ, putting down everyone's stare by her own intense gaze. With them also was Felicitas, glad that she had safely given birth so that now she could fight the beasts, going from one blood bath to another, from the midwife to the gladiator, ready to wash after childbirth in a second baptism.[28]

 

We read that  those to be martyred were scourged by a gauntlet of gladiators because they had enraged the crowd by gesturing to the Roman procurator that though he had judged them, he would be judged by God. After having experienced this they rejoiced because they had partaken in the suffering of their Lord. Regarding Perpetua, we then read

 

For the young women, however, the Devil had prepared a mad heifer. This was an unusual animal, but it was chosen that their sex might be matched with that of the beast. So they were stripped naked, placed in nets and thus brought out into the arena. Even the crowd was horrified when they saw that one was a delicate young girl and the other was a woman fresh from childbirth with the milk still dripping from her breasts. And so they were brought back again and dressed in unbelted tunics.

 

First the heifer tossed Perpetua and she fell on her back. Then sitting up she pulled down the tunic that was ripped along the side so that it covered her thighs, thinking more of her modesty than of her pain. Next she asked for her pin to fasten her untidy hair: for it was not right that a martyr should die with her hair in disorder, lest she might seem to be mourning in her hour of triumph.

 

Then she got up. And seeing that Felicitas had been crushed to the ground, she went over to her, gave her her hand, and lifted her up. ...

 

[Those who had survived till then were gathered in the usual spot for their throats to be cut]. But the mob asked that their bodies be brought out into the open that their eyes might be the guilty witnesses of the sword that pierced their flesh. And so the martyrs got up and went to the spot of their own accord as the people wanted them to, and kissing one another they sealed their martyrdom with the ritual kiss of peace. The others took the sword in silence and without moving ... . Perpetua, however, had yet to taste more pain. She screamed as she was struck on the bone; then she took the trembling hand of the young gladiator and guided it to her throat. It was as though so great a woman, feared as she was by the unclean spirit, could not be dispatched unless she herself were willing.[29]

 

This passage is rich not only in factual descriptions but also in erotic symbolism.[30]  It is not for nothing that the description of the death of the martyrs is described as their passion ("passio"). It has been pointed out that "over the course of the first centuries of the empire ... the noun passio (also derived from the same verb 'to suffer') came to have a positive valuation to refer to the 'passionate' experience of heterosexual intercourse, where the inferior role was properly played by a woman and in which the man experienced his rightful pleasure. This passion was good. In his writings the Christian ideologue Tertullian commonly employed the word, and so was able to play on the dual meanings of passio as sexual pleasure in heterosexual intercourse and in the physical suffering of the body."[31] Given this, what can we then say regarding Tertullian's attitude to those women whose life is bound to the routine, ritualistic framework of their life within society and within the church? Two passages offer us a clue: In his treatise De Exhortatione Castitatis (Exhortation to Chastity) he writes

 

It is laws which seem to make a difference between marriage and fornication. Besides, what is the thing that which takes place in all women and men to produce marriage and fornication? Commixture of the flesh, of course; the concupiscence whereof the Lord put on the same footing with fornication. "Then," says (someone), "are you not by this time destroying first - that is, single - marriage too?" And (if so) not without reason; inasmuch as it, too, consists of that which is the essence of fornication. And since these considerations may be advanced, even in the case of first and single marriage, to forward the cause of continence, how much more will they offer a prejudgement for refusing second marriage?[32]

 

This theme of moderation within the "indulgence to marry"[33] and the rejection of second marriage is also found in the treatise addressed to his wife Ad Uxorem where he says

 

Wherefore, so far as we can, let us love the opportunity of continence; as soon as it offers itself, let us resolve to accept it, that which we have not had strength (to follow) in matrimony we may follow in widowhood. The occasion must be embraced which puts an end to that which necessity commanded. How detrimental to faith, how obstructive to holiness, second marriages are, ... .[34]

 

Thus, Tertullian, was faced with the dilemma of reconciling, on the one hand, his ideas regarding women who, through martyrdom, exhibited to the supreme degree how a Christian could die, and, on the other, his ideas regarding how a Christian woman ought to live and conduct herself within the church, an institution struggling to present itself as an alternate model within a pagan society. Tertullian upheld martyrs, who through the immediacy of their act render superfluous the necessity of repeating and arguing about discipline and order within the ongoing life of the church, since, as he warns the authorities of the state: "Your most refined cruelties are to no purpose. We become more numerous each time you reap: the blood of Christians is a seed."[35] For him there was no problem in upholding as models women, who in their torn bodies had approximated to themselves the suffering of Christ, who did not have to be instructed about their bodies in relation either to society, the church, or to men. This is illustrated by the comment made in the previous generation about Blandina, "through whom Christ proved that the things that men think cheap, ugly, and contemptuous are deemed worthy of glory before God, by reason of her love for him which was not merely vaunted in appearance but demonstrated in achievement."[36]

 

The role of the body as the "axis of salvation"[37] cannot be underestimated in Tertullian. For him, the body in so far as it approximated to the body of Christ, was instructive; however, in so far as it approximated to society, it had to be admonished.

 

 

 

Heretics:  "... these wretched women... ."

 

Tertullian's position regarding those he considered "heretics" has been summarized by Eric F. Osborne, as follows:

 

Heretics have no fixed point in history or in logic from which to base their argument. For this reason they fail in two obvious ways: they regress infinitely in their argument, with a neurotic curiosity, and they divide incessantly into more and more sects which destroy the unity of the church. The rule of faith provides a basis for reasoning which limits the fantasy of heretics and unites the church universal.[38]

 

Tertullian's attitude to baptism is also revealed in his treatise on the theme of baptism, De baptismo,[39] which was written as a vehement reaction against the teaching of a certain woman. According to Tertullian, this teaching had as its aim the destruction of baptism as known in the church. Tertullian's reaction is to unambiguously affirm the otherness of what is offered by the "heretics", and argue that they do not have the same God, the same Christ, or even the same baptism.[40]

Hence it is intriguing that the convoluted and enigmatic life of Tertullian should take an unexpected turn, where in disgust with the teachings of the "established" church, especially in its teaching on post-baptismal sin[41] and its growing dependence on the office of the bishop,[42] he forsook this expression of Christianity for the Montanist movement (and finally, perhaps, for his own sect), with its heavy emphasis on the role of the Spirit and on purity.[43] Active in the Montanist movement were the prophetesses Priscilla (Prisca) and Maximilla. However, it has been noted that for Tertullian, "the women prophets are the vehicles of the Holy Spirit, to be listened to with respect, but are not given a role in the hierarchy of Tertullian's system."[44] For him, who approved the injunction that women ought not to speak in church, "they may prophesy, presumably because this was the Holy Spirit speaking and not the woman. Well before he had become deeply committed to the Montanist cause he quotes with approval examples of women prophets uttering inspired words ..., as well as when he has become wholly a Montanist partisan ... ."[45] For Tertullian, what was attractive about the movement was that it presented an alternative in terms of purity, which did not automatically lead to an alternate hierarchy. Having said this, it would be worthwhile to extract what had been said about or by the women prophetesses, in a movement which came to be judged heretical by the "established" church.

 

The following oracles from the early Montanist period have been culled by Hultgren and Haggmark[46] from scattered references in Tertullian and other sources, like dossiers of "heresies":

 

- [The Spirit speaks:] Desire not to die in bed, nor in delivery of children, nor by enervating fevers, but in martyrdom, that He may be glorified who has suffered for you. (Tertullian, De Fuga 9.4; cf. Tertullian De Anima 55.5.)

- [The Paraclete says through the prophetess Prisca:] They are flesh and [yet] they hate the flesh. (Tertullian, de Resurr. Mort. 11.2.).

- [The holy prophetess Prisca proclaims:] A holy minister must understand how to minister holiness. ... (Tertullian, De Exhort. Cast. 10.5.)

- [Quintilla or Priscilla says:] In the form of a woman, says she, arrayed in shining garments, came Christ to me and set wisdom upon me and revealed to me that this place [= Pepuza] is holy and that Jerusalem will come down hither from heaven. (Epiphanius, Haer. 49.1.2-3).

- [Maximilla says:] After me, says she, there will be no more prophets, but [only] the consummation. (Epiphanius, Haer. 48.2.4.)

- [Maximilla says:] Listen not to me, but listen to Christ. (Epiphanius, Haer. 48.12.4.)

- [Maximilla says:] The Lord has sent me as adherent, preacher and interpreter of this affliction and this covenant and this promise; he has compelled me, willingly or unwillingly, to learn the knowledge of God. (Epiphanius, Haer. 48.13.1.)

- [The Spirit says through Maximilla:] I am chased like a wolf from [the flock of] sheep; I am not a wolf; I am word and spirit and power. (Eusebius, HE 5.16.17).

 

What strikes one in reading these extracts is the confidence of the prophetesses in their own mission and the affirmation of their status, coupled with an interpretation of Christ, "in the form of a woman," laying the seal of approval on their ministry. It is of no surprise to us that Epiphanius (the Bishop of Salamis in Cyprus), writing in 375 - 378,[47] almost two centuries after the birth of the Montanist movement, in his book Panarion (Medicine Chest against all heresies), could pass judgement on the Montanists as follows:

 

"Come now servants of God, let us assume a manly mind and banish the madness of these women. The whole deception is female; the disease comes from Eve, who was deceived long ago." (Panarion, 79.2)[48]

 

Such heresy bashing has a long tradition behind it. About a century and a half earlier, Hippolytus, writing in Rome in about 230, in his work Refutation of all Heresies,[49] comments  that some people

 

have been rendered victims of error from being previously captivated by [two] wretched women, called a certain Priscilla and Maximilla, whom they supposed [to be] prophetesses. ... But they magnify these wretched women above the Apostles and every gift of Grace, so that some of them presume to assert that there is in them a something superior to Christ. ... They introduce, however, the novelties of fasts, and feasts, and meals of parched food, and repasts of radishes, alleging that they have been instructed by women.[50]

 

Here we face the paradox: On the one hand we have harsh criticism against the role played by women, criticised by many later church fathers, including Jerome and Chrysostom, which Elizabeth A. Clark seeks to interpret in terms of a "downhill" trajectory for women after the time of the New Testament, where the gifts of grace had to be seen as limited, and a reinterpretation of the virtues of women in the Bible could be used as models to chastise women in the present, leading the Fathers to theologically and practically "rationalize the curtailment of women's earlier freedom."[51] On the other hand we have the example of Tertullian who could join the movement, turning his back in disgust on the "mainline" church, which in his opinion had become too deeply compromised in its adjustment to the society of the time. While Tertullian's disillusionment could be due to the rapid decline of Christian community life, which he traces back to moral laxity in the sphere of sexual behaviour, the decline, as he understood it, could also be due to a tension in the life of the community provoked by a more and more hierarchical understanding and ordering of life, which neglects the horizontal relationships, affecting the very texture of Christian communities. This paradox cannot be wished away, but can be explained along the following lines: For Tertullian, the women prophetesses were not people with whom he came into direct contact, since the movement he joined was one which held to their memory, but one in which they, coming from a time two generations before Tertullian, were most probably no longer physically present. Thus, what probably attracted Tertullian was the emphasis on the Spirit of holiness and truth. It is clear that Montanism was built on the search for personal purity as the surest way to salvation. Hence for Tertullian, it was not the hierarchical positioning of women that was important at this time, but the role they played in promoting the guidance of the Spirit. Thus, they were not seen as those threatening the stability and order of the church, but rather those who had, through the intervention of the Spirit, called upon the church to recover  and reappropriate that which seemed to be neglected and lost.

 

In her "Introduction," to a special issue of the Journal of Early Christian Studies, which had as its theme "The Markings of Heresy: Body, Text, and Community in Late Ancient Christianity," Virginia Burrus noted that the essays collected

 

exhibit interest in the social and discursive processes of "demarcation" by which orthodoxies define, and thereby in some sense create, heresies -- not only as the inevitable cartographic by-products of the impulse to draw boundaries and create centers, but also (paradoxically, and in multiple ways) as necessary sources of "nourishment" for orthodoxies themselves.[52]

 

These texts raise the pressing issue of our understanding of what can be termed "orthodox" and what, often deliberately, was dismissed as "heretical." In trying to understand the contribution of women to the early church, it must be recognised that the role they played in nourishing orthodoxy cannot be underestimated, whether this nourishment came directly from within or, as often was the case, from the fringes, or even from "without".

 

 

Conclusion: "... if the Savior made her worthy, who are you indeed to reject her?"[53]

 

As we reflect on the meaning of these responses today what we cannot forget is that

[f]or all the creaking rigidities of our ancient sources, and for all the intellectual skills demanded of a modern scholar in rendering them intelligible, it would be deeply inhumane to deny that, in these centuries, real men and women faced desperate choices, endured privation and physical pain, courted breakdown and bitter disillusionment, and frequently experienced themselves, and addressed others, with a searing violence of language. ... The texts bring us up against pains and sadnesses that lie close to us as our own flesh. The historian's obligation to the truth forces us to strive to make these texts intelligible, with all the cunning and serenity that we would wish to associate with a living modern culture.[54]

 

The contribution of women to the early church, though a long-neglected topic of research, is now becoming a field in its own right. Our analysis has shown us that it is in listening to the voices of women and to the reporting of, and interpretation of, these voices by dominant male interpreters, that we can glimpse the church as a movement in flux, in which paths yet untrodden were becoming pilgrim routes, where self-appointed male guides were acting very often as policemen in disciplining people on these paths, and acting to prevent over-ambitious sorties into by-ways, or even attempts to forge an alternate route. In spite of this, we catch a glimpse of women and men, responding to what they sensed was a new movement inaugurated by a man from Galilee, a man who tried to break so many of the social conventions of his time, a response informed by the possibility of change and transformation, even though what he "actually taught often became a matter of bitter dispute ... ."[55]

 

 

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* The Rev. Dr. J. Jayakiran Sebastian is a Presbyter of the Church of South India and is Associate Professor in the Department of Theology and Ethics at the United Theological College, Bangalore.

 

[2] Logion 114, The Gospel According to Thomas, Coptic Test established and translated by A. Guillamont et al. (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1976), p. 57.

 

[3] Gillian Clark, Women in Late Antiquity: Pagan and Christian Lifestyles (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993), pp. 140 - 141.

 

[4] See Patricia Wilson-Kastner et al, eds., A Lost Tradition: Women Writers of the Early Church (Lanham: University Press of America, 1981), for a scholarly recovery and translation of women writers (Perpetua, Proba, Egeria, Eudokia) as well as a fine preface (pp. vii - xxx) by Patricia Wilson-Kastner which indicates the contribution of women in the church of the first five centuries.

 

[5] See Elizabeth A. Clark, Women in the Early Church, Message of the Fathers of The Church 13 (Collegeville, Minnesota: The Liturgical Press, 1983), for a convenient collection of the "Fathers" on women. In her Introduction Clark notes: "The most fitting word with which to describe the Church Fathers' attitude toward women is ambivalence." (p. 15).

[6] A convenient "summary" and analysis of the various currents in feminist/womanist literary criticism is found in Maggie Humm, A Reader's Guide to Feminist Literary Criticism (New York: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1994). The last chapter of Raman Selden and Peter Widdowson, eds. A Reader's Guide to Contemporary Literary Theory, third ed., (New York: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1993), pp. 201 - 238, is devoted to "Feminist Theories."

 

[7] See the chapter, "Latin Theology Launched: Tertullian," in Stuart G. Hall, Doctrine and Practice in the Early Church (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1992), pp. 67 - 73.

To understand the context in which Tertullian lived and wrote, see Susan Raven, Rome in Africa, third ed. (London: Routledge, 1993), passim.

 

[8] In her brilliant article: "Ideology, History, and the Construction of 'Woman' in Late Ancient Christianity," in the Journal of Early Christian Studies, Vol. 2, No. 4 (1994), p. 163. Clark points out that stereotyping, naturalizing and universalizing were the "three common ideological mechanisms through which the Church Fathers constructed 'woman.'" She goes on to ironically and probingly ask: "And where should the Church of the present be placed? Has it been even more gloriously endowed with grace that the apostolic era, or had it suffered a downward slide from its primitive lustre? Was 'woman' to remain a constant in a history that itself evolved either 'upward' or 'downward'? Did the appeal to history work its ideological function by closing the gap between past and present -- or did the appeal itself ironically serve to widen the gulf?" (p. 169).

 

[9] The address is entitled "Black Marks on the Communities' Manuscripts," Journal of Early Christian Studies, Vol. 2, No. 4, Winter 1994, pp. 443 - 466. The comments quoted above are on p. 466.

 

[10] This is a comment made by Henry Chadwick in the Introduction to his collection of essays Heresy and Orthodoxy in the Early Church (Hampshire: Variorum, 1991), p. ix, on the writings of Père Yves Congar, which, he says, have "richly illustrated" this point.

 

[11] Elizabeth A. Clark, "Ideology, History, and the Construction of 'Woman' in Late Ancient Christianity," op. cit., p. 176.

 

[12] In "Feminism and the Power of Interpretation: Some Critical Readings," in Teresa de Lauretis, ed., Feminist Studies/Critical Studies (Houndmills: Macmillan Press, 1986), p. 121. Modleski concludes: "By working on a variety of fronts for the survival and empowerment of women, feminist criticism performs an escape act dedicated to freeing women from all male captivity narratives, whether these be found in literature, criticism, or theory." (p. 136).

 

[13] Rodney Stark, The Rise of Christianity (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1997), p. 100.

[14] A concise article, summarising much of the "ideology" of martyrdom, is that by Everett Ferguson, "Early Christian Martyrdom and Civil Disobedience," in Journal of Early Christian Studies, Vol. 1, No. 1 (1993), pp. 73 - 83.

 

[15] For background, chronology, and theological interpretation, see Timothy Barnes, Tertullian: A Historical and Literary Study, corrected ed. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985).

 

[16] "Preface" in Patricia Wilson-Kastner et al., A Lost Tradition, op. cit., pp. xi - xii.

 

[17] Tertullian, On the Dress of Women, I,1,2. Translated in Elizabeth A. Clark, Women in the Early Church, op. cit., p. 39.

 

[18] Peter Brown, The Body and Society: Men, Women, and Sexual Renunciation in Early Christianity (New York: Columbia University Press, 1988), p. 81.

 

[19] Tertullian, On the Veiling of Virgins, XIV, trans. S. Thelwall, in Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson, eds., revised A. Cleveland Cox, The Ante-Nicene Fathers: Volume IV: Tertullian, Part Fourth; Minucius Felix; Commodian; Origen, Parts First and Second (Buffalo: The Christian Literature Publishing Company, 1885), p. 36.

 

[20] Although coming from an analysis of a different "Father", the comments of Blake Leyerle, in her article "John Chrysostom on the Gaze," Journal of Early Christian Studies, Vol. 1, No. 2 (1993), pp. 159 - 174, are helpful. This article seeks to apply insights coming from feminist film criticism, where the "gendered gaze ensures a hierarchical positioning of male and female encoded in terms such as active/passive and subjective/objective." (p. 159). Leyerle is right in commenting that "[i]f we then drag our reluctant eyes away from the offered spectacle and focus them instead upon the spectator, our vision doubles." (p. 174).

 

[21] In The Body and Society, op. cit., p. 81.

 

[22] Herbert Musurillo, intro., texts and translations, The Acts of the Christian Martyrs (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972), says that the Passion of Perpetua is a "proto-Montanist document, originating perhaps in the first decade of the third century from the Montanist circle of Tertullian himself." (p. xxvi). See also Appendix 17 "The Passion of Perpetua" in Timothy Barnes, Tertullian, op. cit.

 

[23] In his panoramic and monumental Pagans and Christians (New York: Harper, 1988), p. 419.

 

[24] For the document chronicling the death of the martyrs of Lyons see "The Martyrs of Lyons," in Herbert Musurillo, intro., texts and translations, The Acts of the Christian Martyrs op. cit., pp. 62 - 85 (with Greek text), introduction pp. xx - xxii. Section 1, 55 - 56 records Blandina's death (pp. 78 - 81). For analysis and interpretation, Jacques Rossel, The Roots of Western Europe: An Essay on Interpenetration of Cultures During the First Nine Centuries A.D., trans. John Lyle (Basel: Basileia Publications, 1995), pp. 49 - 58.

 

[25] R. A. Markus, The End of Ancient Christianity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), p. 98.

 

[26] For the document see Musurillo, The Acts of the Christian Martyrs, Ibid., pp. 106 - 131  (with Latin text), introduction pp. xxv - xxvii. An article which examines the motives, including the religious motives, of the Roman procurator responsible for the sentencing and execution, Hilarianus, is James Rives, "The Piety of a Persecutor," in Journal of Early Christian Studies, Vol. 4, No. 1 (1996), pp. 1 - 25.

 

[27] James Rives, "The Piety of a Persecutor," Ibid., p. 1.

 

[28] "The Martyrdom of Saints Perpetua and Felicitas," 18, translated in The Acts of the Christian Martyrs op. cit., p. 127.

 

[29] "The Martyrdom of Saints Perpetua and Felicitas," 20, translated in Ibid., p. 129.

 

[30] See Brent D. Shaw, "Body/Power/Identity: The Passion of the Martyrs," in Journal of Early Christian Studies, Vol. 4, No. 3 (1996), pp. 269 - 312, for a detailed analysis of such symbolism. He uses the phrase "the theatre of the national pornography of the Roman state," to describe public executions, and goes on to give an analytical example where "the rending of flesh in public could be linked to the bravery exemplified by a woman in her confrontation with Roman authority, and simultaneously, to a language of love." (pp. 305 - 306).

The day before the "fight with the beasts," Perpetua records her vision where she is led to the amphitheatre, where, in preparation for a fight against an Egyptian, "of vicious appearance," handsome young men join Perpetua, as seconds and assistants, and before the fight, she records that her "clothes were stripped off, and suddenly I was a man." "The Martyrdom of Saints Perpetua and Felicitas," 10, translated in The Acts of the Christian Martyrs op. cit., p. 119.

 

[31] Shaw, in Ibid., pp. 296 - 297.

 

[32] Tertullian, An Exhortation to Chastity, IX, translated by S. Thelwall in  The Ante-Nicene Fathers: Volume IV, op. cit., p. 55.

 

[33] A quick summary of Tertullian on marriage is found in David G. Hunter, trans. and ed., Marriage in the Early Church, Sources of Early Christian Thought (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992), pp. 10 - 11, with translated texts on pp. 33 - 40.

 

[34] Tertullian, To His Wife, I, VI, Ibid., p. 43.

 

[35] Tertullian, Apologeticum, 50, 13, translation in Adalbert Hamman, How to Read the Church Fathers (London: SCM Press Ltd., 1993), p. 31.

 

[36] "The Martyrs of Lyons," I, 17, in Musurillo, The Acts of the Christian Martyrs, op. cit., p. 67.

 

[37] "caro salutis cardo" is a phrase from Tertullian, De resurrectione mortuorum, 8.2, translated by Gedaliahu G. Stroumsa as "the flesh is the axis of salvation," in Stroumsa, "Caro salutis cardo: Shaping the Person in Early Christian Thought," History of Religion, Vol. 30, No. 1 (1990), p. 34 with note 33.

On Tertullian's understanding of the body, the comments of Peter Brown, The Body and Society, op. cit., pp. 76 - 82, are helpful.

 

[38] In his "Reason and the rule of faith in the second century AD," in Rowan Williams, ed., The Making of Orthodoxy: Essays in Honour of Henry Chadwick (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), p. 54.

 

[39] Regarding chronology, Timothy Barnes, in Tertullian, op cit., points out that this treatise, which comes from the period before Tertullian became a Montanist, does not yield more precise information when the criteria regarding historical allusions, references to other works, doctrinal progression and style, are applied. Barnes says that although it should be simply classified "before 206," the conjectural date "? between 198 and 203" is possible. (pp. 54 - 56).

 

[40] On other important aspects of Tertullian's understanding of what it meant to be in ecclesiological communion and the role of baptism, see Killian McDonnell, "Communion Ecclesiology and Baptism in the Spirit: Tertullian and the Early Church," in Theological Studies, Vol. 49, No. 4 (1988), pp. 671 - 693.

 

[41] See the section on Tertullian in G. H. Joyce, "Private Penance in the Early Church," Journal of Theological Studies, Vol. XLII (1941), pp. 21 - 29. Here Joyce also discusses the changes in Tertullian's thinking with regard to the implications of penance, between the treatises De paenitentia, written while Tertullian was still in the catholic church, where "he had expressly taught that full and entire pardon is secured by penance," and the later De pudicitia, where he "utterly denies the Church's power to absolve from any sin which deprives a man of the sonship of God conferred on him in baptism." (pp. 22 - 23).

 

[42] De Baptismo, XVII, 2: "The striving to become bishop is the mother of all schism." (my translation).

 

[43] On Montanism, known as the new prophesy, see Chapter X "The New Prophesy," in Barnes, Tertullian, op. cit. The texts describing the Montanist movement are now conveniently collected and translated in Chapter 15: "Montanus and the Montanists," in Arland J. Hultgren and Steven A. Haggmark, eds., The Earliest Christian Heretics: Readings from their Opponents (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996), pp. 127 - 135. Regarding Tertullian the editors write: "Tertullian's ethical turn of mind was impressed by the strong call of Montanist visionary experiences for the repentance of the church. Tertullian, however, lived at least two generations after the initial strong showing of Montanus and his immediate followers." (p. 128).

 

[44] Patricia Wilson-Kastner, "Preface," in Patricia Wilson-Kastner et al, eds., A Lost Tradition, op. cit., p. xii.

 

[45] Richard P. C. Hanson, Studies in Christian Antiquity (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, Ltd., 1985), p. 137.

 

[46] Hultgren and Haggmark, eds., The Earliest Christian Heretics, op. cit., p. 129.

 

[47] Ibid., p. 160.

 

[48] Quoted and translated in 'This Female Man of God': Women and Spiritual Power in the Patristic Age, AD 350 - 450 (London: Routledge, 1995), p. 43.

 

[49] Hultgren and Haggmark, eds., The Earliest Christian Heretics, op. cit., p. 161. Also see the interesting discussion in Paul McKechnie, "'Women's Religion' and Second-Century Christianity," Journal of Ecclesiastical History, Vol. 47, No. 3 (1996) pp. 409 - 431, which opens up several interesting lines of investigation.

 

[50] Hippolytus, Refutation of All Heresies, 8,12, translated in Hultgren and Haggmark, eds., The Earliest Christian Heretics, op. cit., p. 130. The church historian, Eusebius, writing around 325, quoting an "orthodox" writer, who had written against the Montanists, records: "It is thus evident that these prophetesses, from the day they wee filled with the spirit, were the first to leave their husbands. How then could they lie so blatantly as to call Priscilla a virgin? ... Don't you agree that all scripture debars a prophet from accepting gifts and money? When I see that a prophetess has accepted gold and silver and expensive clothing, am I not justified in keeping her at arm's length?" (Eusebius, History of the Church, 5.18, in Hultgren and Haggmark, eds., The Earliest Christian Heretics, pp. 134 - 135.

 

[51] In "Ideology, History, and the Construction of 'Woman' in Late Ancient Christianity," op. cit., p. 173.

Virginia Burrus, in her article "The Heretical Woman as Symbol in Alexander, Athanasius, Epiphanius, and Jerome," Harvard Theological Review, 84:3 (1991) 229 - 248, points out how her analysis has indicated that the sources examined "speak loudly and clearly of the preoccupations of the men who articulated their orthodox identity through the use of woman as a symbol of the threatening forces of sexuality, social chaos, and false belief." (p. 248). With Tertullian, the situation is more complex, since his understanding of "orthodoxy," his comments on the role of women within the church, and his acceptance of the Montanist ideas of purity and holiness, are in interaction.

 

[52] Journal of Early Christian Studies, Vol. 4, No. 4 (1996), p. 403.

Such an attitude is illustrated in Letter 75, written to Cyprian by Firmilian, Bishop of Cappadocia, at the height of the baptismal controversy, in late 256, where horror is expressed regarding a woman who "presented herself as a prophetess," and baptised people "complete with the Trinitarian credal formula and the legitimate baptismal interrogation of the Church ... ." In addition she sanctified the bread and celebrated the Eucharist "not without the sacred recitation of the wonted ritual formula." Recording that she did all this "in such a way that she appeared to deviate in no particular from ecclesiastical discipline," Firmilian asks - "What, then, are we to say about such a baptism, where an evil demon baptized through the agency of a woman?" The translation of this section of the letter is from The Letters of St. Cyprian of Carthage, Volume IV, Letters 67 - 82 (Ancient Christian Writers, No. 47) trans. and annotated by G. W. Clarke (New York: Newman Press, 1989), pp. 84 - 86 (Letter 75.10 - 11). For an analysis of this letter in relation to the baptismal controversy, see     J. Jayakiran Sebastian, "... baptisma unum in sancta ecclesia ...", op. cit., pp. 120 - 127.

 

[53] "The Gospel of Mary," 18, translated in The Nag Hammadi Library, rev. ed., James M. Robinson, gen. ed. (New York: HarperCollins, 1990), p. 527. The fragmentary Gospel of Mary, was written in Greek some time in the second century and discovered in 1896 on papyrus fragments in Egypt. The section quoted comes in a response of Levi to Peter after Andrew and Peter doubt whether what Mary Magdalene was telling them about the Lord was trustworthy. Peter asks: "Did he really speak with a woman without our knowledge (and) not openly? Are we to turn about and all listen to her? Did he prefer her to us?" Levi's response continues: "Surely the Savior knows her very well. That is why he loved her more than us." ("The Gospel of Mary," 17 - 18, translation, pp. 526 - 527.)

 

[54] Peter Brown, The Body and Society, op. cit., p. xviii.

 

[55] Comment by Elaine Pagels, The Origin of Satan (London: Allen Lane The Penguin Press, 1996), p. 67, in commenting on The Gospel of Mary.

Listening to the Speaking Bible

 

 

Introduction: Affirming the context:

 

Cultural identities are good everyday instances of our deepest social biases; even when they are openly espoused, they are often based on submerged feelings and values, reflecting areas of both sensibility and judgement. They are neither to be dismissed as mere social constructions, and hence spurious, nor celebrated as our real unchanging essences in a heartless and unchanging world. We have the capacity to examine our social identities, considering them in the light of our best understanding of other social facts and social relationships. Indeed this is what we do whenever we seek to transform ourselves in times of social and cultural change.[2]

 

This quotation, coming from the field of literary studies and theory has something to say to those of us who are concerned about the rediscovery of the relevance of the Bible in a rapidly changing world. On the one hand, we are faced with the reality of a changing Christian identity in contemporary India.[3] On the other, we have to take seriously the question regarding the use and abuse of the Bible in India today. The call for a re-examination of our attitudes, prejudices, practises, and customs is an urgent necessity. Gnana Robinson has been an influential voice, willing to pose uncomfortable questions and hold up for discussion things which others would have preferred to have left undisturbed. Since his many writings addressing the church in India are well documented, I would like to draw attention to an article written in German, which caused a commotion in the ecumenical circles, and was finally published along with two "responses" which sought to "explain" some of the issues raised.[4] In this article, Gnana Robinson posed a series of challenges from an ecumenical standpoint to the churches in Germany, drawing attention to the reality of the congregations in the country. Some of the issues, in the form of queries, were questions regarding

- worship without a congregation

- spirituality without the Spirit

- prayer without expectation

- lecture, not a sermon

- donations, not sacrificial giving

- the pastoral office as a profession and not a calling

- belief without experience

- guaranteed continued existence, but lost relevance.

 

One issue which could have been raised is that regarding the place of the Bible in such a context, where one is not surprised to occasionally find copies of the Bible kept with old newspapers on the kerbside, to be picked up by the paper recycling service!

 

At the same time, Robinson has been an advocate of the role and importance of the marginalised in the theological task. Reflecting on the hullabaloo caused by the speech-event of Professor Chung Hyung Kyung at the seventh assembly of the World Council of Churches in Canberra, where certain people sneeringly dismissed her contribution as a marginal theology at the fringes of the world ecumenical movement, Robinson writes:

 

To be sure, it is not necessary that theology from the margin must, as a matter of course, be false theology. The central theology should keep itself open, in order to listen to theology from the margins and to critically interact with this, in order to reflect on the contemporary relevance of such theology.[5]

 

While concepts like "central" and "margin" cannot be loosely used,[6] nevertheless, it must be acknowledged that Robinson has raised an important issue regarding the self-sufficiency of certain forms of theologising, which perpetuate themselves without even a side-glance at the vibrant theologies emerging and present in different contexts.[7]

 

In this contribution to the Festschrift I would like to examine an issue regarding the use of the Bible in a particular instance in the middle of the third century, hoping thereby to raise the issue regarding the centrality of the Bible and biblical interpretation in the ongoing ecumenical discussions, especially in the Indian context.

 

Cyprian's Letter 63: Responses to questions regarding the Eucharist:

 

The life and writings of Cyprian, bishop of Carthage in Roman North Africa, who was executed, through beheading, by the Roman authorities in September 258, offer us a vivid and intense glimpse into the realities facing the emerging congregations in the Mediterranean world in the middle of the third century.[8] In looking back and examining such documents, one does so not out of some kind of antiquarian curiosity, but because the issues and themes with which the writers and theologians of the early church wrestled with are of enduring significance even for the self-understanding of the church today.[9] Thus, those of us who venture back to such writings do so in order to "reinscribe the past, reactivate it, relocate it, resignify it."[10]

 

Letter 63[11] "is a remarkable document - our first extant extended study on the nature of the Eucharist."[12] This being so, then an examination of the use of the Bible and biblical citations would enable us to cast light on how scriptural testimony was being used to interpret and understand the nature and significance of the Eucharist.[13] Though the letter is addressed by name to Caecilius, who is most probably an episcopal colleague of Cyprian in North Africa, an examination of the letter indicates that "it is more in the nature of a circular pastoral letter directed to Cyprian's fellow bishops generally."[14] At the same time, Cyprian indicates right at the beginning that this letter is not written to convey his personal understanding of the Eucharist or his own interpretation of eucharistic practises, but has been "commanded by God's inspiration and instruction" (1.2).[15] Focusing on the cup, Cyprian writes that he has been constrained to address this issue because of the "ignorance or naïveté" of some people, who in consecrating the Lord's cup and in its administration "do not follow the precepts and practices of Jesus Christ our Lord and God, the Author and Teacher of this sacrifice" (1.1).

 

Rather than giving a summary of the arguments in this letter, it would be worthwhile to focus on the scriptural passages quoted and engage in an analysis as to how and why these passages have been used to construct the argument.

 

The fundamental issue at stake is the question as to whether wine ought to be present in the cup, along with water. This manner of celebrating the Eucharist seems to have been practised in several places so as to merit attention and cause Cyprian to exclaim that he is "truly astonished how this practice can have arisen whereby, contrary to the prescriptions of the gospel and of the apostles, in some places water, which by itself is incapable of signifying the blood of Christ, is offered in the Lord's cup." (11.1).[16] Cyprian affirms that one has to "do exactly as the Lord first did Himself for us -- the cup which is offered up in remembrance of Him is to be offered mixed with wine." (2.1). This point is emphasised by quoting John 15: 1 ”I am the true vine ...," and arguing that

- one cannot equate Christ's blood with water (2.1)

- Christ's blood, which is the medium of our renewal and redemption, cannot be "present in the cup when in the cup there is no wine." (2.2)

- wine must be equated with blood, in this case the blood of Christ, since all through the Scriptures this "is foretold by sacred type and testimony." (2.2).

 

Thus, what we see from this first example is that in reaction to an existing situation or practice or query, in this case the advisability of using wine to celebrate the Lord's supper, Cyprian reverts to scriptural testimony - dominical words - and uses it to build up a case. The case is constructed through the patient logic of showing how any contrary construction would be absurd and impossible: blood is not, and cannot be, water;  hence, if there is no wine in the cup and only water is present, then the vital salvific symbol is absent; since wine "signifies the blood of Christ," it follows that wine, which is testified to throughout Scripture, has to be present.

 

Following this argument, Cyprian realises that one link in this chain has to strengthened: the typological argument. He goes on to provide examples to argue and build up the case. He takes the story of Noah from Genesis 9, and argues that Noah got inebriated by drinking not water but wine, and lay down with his nakedness exposed, leaving it to two of his sons to cover him. Now comes an interesting move: Cyprian says that "in drinking not water but wine Noah exhibited a symbol of the truth to come and thus prefigured the Lord's passion." (3). However, exactly how this happens is not made clear, and Cyprian says that there is no need for to do this and "pursue the rest of the story." As Clarke writes, "such opaque 'logic' is characteristic of much typological argument."[17]

 

In analysing such arguments, one must also note that in writers such as Cyprian, the access to the Hebrew scriptures were not only through the canonical text as such, but also, practically, through anthological collections of texts from these writings, which circulated in various forms, being used for diverse purposes in different communities.[18] Such selective usage is not peculiar to those within the various Christian communities, but is also a characteristic of those who wrote to attack Christianity. For example, Celsus in his work The True Doctrine, written during the reign of Marcus Aurelius (161 - 180 C. E.), criticised Christians and Christian practices by "tailoring out" certain statements of Scriptural material available to him and also by making "some adjustments so as to fit in with his purpose of criticising Christianity."[19]

 

Returning to Cyprian, he then goes on to pick up the figure of Melchizedek of Salem from Genesis 14: 18 - 19a: "And King Melchizedek of Salem brought out bread and wine, for he was a priest of God Most High and he blessed Abraham." (4.1). This is immediately related to Melchizedek being a "type" of Christ and is underlined by quoting the reference in Psalm 109 to Melchizedek. The arguments deriving from the Melchizedek texts are:

- the identical offering of Jesus, bread and wine, indicates that in the Hebrew scriptures we have "foreshadowed in mystery a type of the Lord's sacrifice," the Lord, who is "more truly a priest of the most high God ... ." (4.1)

- the Lord brings to "fulfillment and completion" the symbolic action of Melchizedek. (4.3)

 

Thus, promise and fulfillment, quite predictably, serve to buttress the argument, which, in this section, is further reinforced (with quotations from Galatians 3: 6 - 9, Matthew 3: 9 and Luke) through the claim that the blessing bestowed on Abraham "extended to our people likewise." The link is rather tenuous as the quotation from Luke comes from the Zacchaeus story where in 19:9, Jesus, in announcing salvation, proclaims that "this man, too, is a son of Abraham." (4.2). What  is happening here is a mashing together of texts to make the point about continuity between the then and now - the now, of course, related to those Christians who are in agreement with the arguments of Cyprian.

 

This mashing of a text to extract a paste continues in further typological examples. Cyprian, picks up what he considers to be "forecast" in the words of Solomon regarding wisdom in Proverbs 9: 1 - 5, making much of the words "she has mixed her wine," and eating the bread and drinking the wine which has been mixed, the element involved in this mixing, for Cyprian, being self-evidently water. Hence, "bread and wine" references conveniently serve to further the argument that wine ought to be mixed. However, is there a theological point being made in all this or is this merely a matter of stringing proof-texts together to make a particular point? For the theology to emerge, we must wait till Cyprian meanders his way through two more examples - that of Judah and that of Isaiah. Seeing Jesus as the "lion of the tribe of Judah," Cyprian quotes Genesis 49: 11, "He shall wash his raiment in wine and his robe in the blood of the grape," and comments that whenever reference is made to the blood of the grape, then "this can signify only that in the Lord's cup the blood is wine." (6.2). Here, it is not simply a matter of prophecy - fulfilment, but the claim that there is a direct equivalence between certain words or phrases in different parts of scripture. We must also note that Cyprian is using such argumentation techniques to reiterate that water alone is not enough to symbolise the blood of the Lord, but that wine is absolutely indispensable. This point is made in the following quotation from Isaiah 63:2 concerning clothing being made "ruddy" through the process of treading grapes in the wine vat. Cyprian makes the obvious point that clothing cannot become ruddy if water alone is present in the wine vat, and goes on to emphasise the link between the grapes being trampled upon and the blood of Christ, which could not have been produced unless Christ "had first been trodden upon and pressed." (7.2). We have still not come to the theological point which will form the basis for Cyprian's understanding of and interpretation of Scripture. This comes in the next section, where Cyprian, quoting sections of Isaiah 43: 18 - 21, which talks about giving "water to my chosen people," emphatically states that "you must realise that every time that water is named by itself in the Holy Scriptures, there is a prophetic allusion to baptism." (8.1)[20] In what way can this "bald claim"[21] be called theological? For me, it is clear that Cyprian's interpretations of scripture can be understood when we ascribe to him a technique of Scriptural interpretation which can be characterised as attributed implicit theological disclosure.[22]

 

Attributed Implicit Theological Disclosure and Letter 63:

 

The link between power and knowledge, and the role of discourse has been brilliantly and provocatively analysed by Michel Foucault, who wrote:

 

basically in any society, there are manifold relations of power which permeate, characterise and constitute the social body, and these relations of power cannot themselves be established, consolidated nor implemented without the production, accumulation, circulation and functioning of discourse. There can be no possible exercise of power without a certain economy of discourses of truth which operates through and on the basis of this association. We are subjected to the production of truth through power and we cannot exercise power except through the production of truth.[23]

 

Taking this insight seriously, we return to Cyprian's letter to find that he is engaged in the process of discourse, which, for him, is also an activity of disclosure, disclosure of that which on the one hand is implicit, and, on the other, involves the theological task of making clear and explaining the matter through a process of attribution, attributing and exposing meaning and disclosing links and connections in the service of truth.

 

Cyprian, having made the point about water and baptism, goes on to look at further scriptural examples, including merging Isaiah 48:21 with John 19:34, to make the point that water from the split rock indicates Christ, "who is the rock, is split open during His passion by a blow from a lance." (8.2). Further, he makes explicit the link between baptism and the receiving of the Eucharist by interpreting the words of Jesus regarding the thirsty coming to him and the gift of the Spirit (John 7: 37 - 39) to indicate that "it is only after we have been baptised and have obtained the Spirit that we proceed to drink the cup of the Lord." (8.3). Thus, Cyprian links his theological interpretation with his role as a pastoral maintainer of church order, instructing the congregations and stressing appropriate worship patterns.

 

The rest of the letter continues this line of deliberation, offering further examples a series of comments on various Biblical passages to reinforce the arguments. Although Cyprian writes that there is no need to "offer a long list of proofs," (9.1), he feels obliged to draw from various books of the Bible, including the Gospels, Psalms and the recording of the institution of the Eucharist in First Corinthians, to bolster his case and reaffirm and reiterate that although

 

someone among our predecessors, whether through ignorance or naïveté, may have failed to observe this and to keep to what the Lord has taught us to do by His example and instruction ... there can  be no excusing us, for we have been warned and counselled by the Lord to offer His cup mixed with wine just as He Himself offered, and we have been instructed as well to direct letters upon this matter to our colleagues. We are thus to unsure that the Gospel rule and the Lord's instructions are everywhere to be observed and that there is to be no departure from the teaching and example that Christ has given us. (17.2).

 

Is all this just a matter of quibbling? Can we say that Cyprian is engaging in such textual analysis merely to underline a point regarding the practical methodology of the modalities of the Eucharistic celebration? No, for Cyprian, all this is inextricably interlinked to the issue of salvation, a point to which all attributed implicit theological disclosure ought to lead.[24] Cyprian makes this explicit by arguing that

 

by water is meant God's people, whereas Scripture reveals that by wine is signified the blood of Christ. When, therefore, water is mixed with wine in the cup, the people are made one with Christ and the multitude of believers are bonded and united with Him in whom they have come to believe. And this bonding and union between water and wine in the Lord's cup is achieved in such a way that nothing can thereafter separate their intermingling. Thus there is nothing that can separate the union between Christ and the Church, that is the people who are established within the Church and who steadfastly and faithfully persevere in their beliefs: Christ and His Church must remain ever attached and joined to each other by indissoluble love. (13. 1 - 2).

 

This argument is based on the interpretation of three scriptural passages:

- the changing of water into wine at Cana of Galilee (John 2: 1 - 11) is used to argue that it is "perversity and wrongheadedness if we should turn wine into water ... ." (12.1)

- the statement is Isaiah 5:7 that "the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel," provides the background for a convoluted discussion that the Jews[25] are "succeeded by the multitude of Gentiles." (12.2).

- this is underscored by the passage in Revelation 17:15, where one of the angels speaks about the waters as being the peoples and multitudes and nations and languages. (12.2)

 

Hence, for Cyprian it is clear that all this can only lead to the unmistakable conclusion that

 

just as the Lord's cup consists neither of water alone nor of wine alone but requires both to be intermingled together, so, too, the Lord's body can neither be flour alone nor water alone but requires that both be united and fused together so as to form the structure of one loaf of bread. And under this same sacred image our people are represented as having been made one ... . (13. 3 - 4).

 

Having responded to related queries, including the question as to whether it is appropriate to receive communion in the morning and go around with the smell of wine on one's lips (15. 2 - 3), and whether it is apt to celebrate communion in the morning when Jesus instituted the Eucharist after supper (16.1 - 17.1), the pastor in Cyprian returns at the end of the letter to assure forgiveness to those who may have erred in good faith in the past (18.4), and requesting his people to recognise that since Christ's "second coming is now drawing near to us," (18.4), it is incumbent upon them to act so that "He may find us upholding what He has counselled, observing what He has taught and doing what He Himself has done." (19).

 

Conclusion: Today's Context, Attributed Implicit Theological Disclosure and Listening to the Speaking Bible

 

In concluding this analysis I would like to raise some points for our ongoing discussion: In attempting to listen to the speaking Bible today, it is obvious that one does not enter into, or engage in, this process  from some kind of detached, value-free, ungrounded vantage point. If one is rooted in a particular context, committed to specific options,  engaged in definite forms of action, and sensitive to historical injustice and contemporary dilemmas, and, at the same time, alive to the possibility that the Bible continues to speak, then one has to recognise one's situatedness in the long histories and traditions of the Biblical interpretation. R. S. Sugirtharajah, imaginatively and creatively using the metaphor of "chutney,"  says

 

"Chutnification" acts as an apt metaphor for rewriting and retranslating, and, in effect, for spicing-up the text. To the chutnification of language and history, I would like to add biblical narratives, and in doing so it will not only rid them of their ideological trappings and contest received interpretations, but also inject them with new flavour and taste.[26]

 

In order to contest received interpretations, one ought to analyse both the interpretative processes and the context of the interpreter; in order to rid something of ideological trappings, one has to know the theories and societies through which the ideologies emerged; in order to prepare chutney, one has to know how to select the ingredients in appropriate proportions and engage in the act of grinding, so that a new flavour and taste may emerge.

 

In this act of interrogation, lessons that one learns from a writer-bishop-martyr like Cyprian are indispensable, not only in demonstrating the hermeneutical principle that one must reach back in order to move forward,[27] but also to indicate that the ongoing task of attributed implicit theological disclosure is an essential, fundamental, and crucial activity of the theologians of the church.

 

 

END NOTES



[1]  Jayakiran Sebastian is professor of theology, United Theological College, Bangalore, India..

 

[2] Satya P. Mohanty, Literary Theory and the Claims of History: Postmodernism, Objectivity, Multicultural Politics (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1998), p. 201.

 

[3] See my article: "Pressure on the Hyphen: Aspects of the Search for Identity Today in Indian-Christian Theology," in Religion and Society, Vol. 44, No. 4 (December 1997), pp. 27 - 41.

 

[4] Gnana Robinson, "Ökumenische Anfrage an die Gemeindewirklichkeit in Deutschland," Ökumenische Rundschau, 41. Jhrg., Heft 4 (1992), pp. 487 - 494. The two responses are by Henje Becker and Klaus v. Steglitz (pp. 495 - 500).

[5] Gnana Robinson, "Theologische Traditionen und gesellschaftliche Hintergründe des Beitrages von Frau Prof. Dr. Chung Hyung Kyung auf der 7. ÖRK-Vollversammlung," Berliner Theologische Zeitschrift, 10. Jhrg., Heft 1 (1993), pp. 103 - 104 (my translation).

 

[6] See  Issac Julien and Kobena Mercer, "De Margin and De Centre," in David Morley and Kuan-Hsing Chen, eds., Stuart Hall: Critical Dialogues in Culture Studies (London: Routledge, 1996), pp. 450 - 464.

 

[7] One notable attempt to bridge such gaps was the dialogue between representatives of the Ecumenical Association of Third World Theologians (EATWOT) and the "first world," documented in Virginia Fabella and Sergio Torres, eds., Doing  Theology in a Divided World (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1985). Also see the critical questions raised by Franklyn J. Balasundaram, EATWOT in Asia: Towards a Relevant Theology (Bangalore: Asian Trading Corporation, 1993).

 

[8] See J. Jayakiran Sebastian, "... baptisma unum in sancta ecclesia ...": A Theological Appraisal of the Baptismal Controversy in the Work and Writings of Cyprian of Carthage (Delhi: ISPCK, 1997), for a detailed discussion regarding one aspect of this reality.

 

[9] In a recent article on Cyprian, "They Speak to Us Across Centuries: 2. Cyprian," The Expository Times, Vol. 108, No. 12 (September 1997), p. 356, Iain Torrance rightly notes that theological issues need to be "readdressed, in their own form, in each generation." Torrance goes on: "This is an attempt to think together the ancient and modern approaches to problems which, if they are not the same (and they are not), at least cross over in interesting ways."

 

[10] Homi K. Bhabha, "Culture's In-Between," in Stuart Hall and Paul du Gay, eds., Questions of Cultural Identity (London: Sage Publications, 1996), p. 59.

 

[11] The translation of the letter in English is found in G. W. Clarke, trans. and annotated, The Letters of St. Cyprian of Carthage, Volume III, Letters 55 - 66 (Ancient Christian Writers, No. 46) (New York: Newman Press, 1986), pp. 98 - 109, with annotations and notes on pp. 286 - 301.

 

[12] Clarke, p. 288.

 

[13] For an elaborate and extended study on how Cyprian used the Bible, see Michael Andrew Fahey, Cyprian and the Bible: A Study in Third-Century Exegesis (Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck), 1971).

 

[14] Clarke, p. 288. See also n. 1 (p. 291) for comments on the "encyclical" character of the letter.

 

[15] All references are to the sections and sub-sections indicated in Clarke's translation.

[16] In 14.1 Cyprian admonishes the recipient of the letter, calling him his "dearly beloved brother," and says that there are "no grounds for anyone to suppose that he ought to follow the custom practised by some people who may in the past have imagined that water alone should be offered in the Lord's cup."

 

[17] Clarke, p. 292, n. 8.

 

[18] Manlio Simonetti,  Biblical Interpretation in the Early Church: An Historical Introduction to Patristic Exegesis, trans. John A. Hughes (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1994), p. 10.

 

[19] Leonardo Fernando, Christian Faith Meets Other Faiths: Origen's Contra Celsum and Its Relevance for India Today (Delhi: Vidyajyothi Education and Welfare Society and ISPCK, 1998), p. 89.

The writings of Celsus are available to us through Origen's Contra Celsum written between 244 - 249 CE (Fernando, p. 85.)

[20] For Cyprian's experience and understanding of baptism, see Sebastian, op. cit., pp. 40 - 54. On other aspects of Cyprian's understanding of baptism see Maurice Bévenot, "Cyprian's Platform in the Rebaptism Controversy," The Heythrop Journal, Vol. XIX, No. 2 (1978), pp. 123 - 142, and J. Patout Burns, "On Rebaptism: Social Organisation in the Third Century Church," Journal of Early Christian Studies, Vol. 1, No. 4, Winter 1993, pp. 367 - 403.

 

[21] Clarke, p. 294, n. 18.

 

[22] Note Jacques Derrida's densely-packed understanding of the term "theological": "The 'theological' is a determined moment in the total movement of the trace. The field of the entity, before being determined as the field of presence, is structured according to the diverse possibilities - genetic and structural - of the trace. The presentation of the other as such, that is to say the dissimulation of its 'as such,' has always already begun and no structure of the entity escapes it." In Of Grammatology, trans. Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1976), p. 47.

 

[23] In "Lecture Two: 14 January 1976," from "Two Lectures," in Michel Foucault, Power / Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings 1972 - 1977, ed., Colin Gordon (New York: Pantheon Books, 1980), p. 93.

[24] On Cyprian's understanding of salvation, see B. Studer, "Die Soteriologie Cyprians von Karthago," Augustinianum 16 (1976), pp. 427 - 456.

[25] For a discussion on Cyprian and the Jews, see Charles Bobertz, " 'For the Vineyard of the Lord of Hosts was the House of Israel': Cyprian of Carthage and the Jews," Jewish Quarterly Review, Vol. LXXXII, Nos.  1 - 2 (1991), pp. 1 - 15.

 

[26] R. S. Sugirtharajah, "Textual Cleansing: From a Colonial to a Postcolonial Version," Asian Biblical Hermeneutics and Postcolonialism (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), p. 96.

 

[27] See Chapter Five, "Reaching Back in Order to Move Forward - Concluding Theological Reflections," in Sebastian, op. cit., pp. 163 - 179.

The Wounded Body in Early Christian Thought: Implications for the Care of HIV/AIDS Survivors

Introduction

 

Any decision regarding the nature and necessity of care, especially the attitude towards and the care of AIDS/HIV survivors is not a decision that is made in abstraction, but a decision that impacts on the meaning and understanding of life, not just the life of the individual in question, but also life in a wider communitarian sense. The web of life into which we are bound makes any randomness or arbitrariness in taking decisions regarding care, the question of attitudes and modes of treatment problematic, and has indicated the need for theological and ethical perspectives to play a role in the processes leading up to such a decision. At the same time, the debates on the quality of life, the beginning of life, the cessation of life and the meaning of life have indicated to us that religious and cultural factors have been part of the parameters that either directly or indirectly inform such debates on life, health and sickness, and hence it is imperative that the role such factors play in undergirding our all-too-human responses cannot be underestimated.

 

The present structures of the medical enterprise in the Indian context, the training systems, the organisation of hospitalisation and the inbuilt structural attitudes regarding medical and nursing care have emerged through a long and complex process, including the interaction between tradition, local practices and the impact of colonization. The so-called “civilizing” attitudes of colonial structures of authority and power resulted in the often crude, but never unproblematic, interaction between the dominant forces and the reservoir of medical skills and techniques available in our own contexts.[2] The institutionalisation of medical care in comparatively recent times, and the setting up of institutions to cater to various levels of perceived medical needs, resulted not only in the emergence of clinics, hospitals and training centres, but also resulted in the institutionalisation of an ideology of care. Generations of medical and support personnel have passed through the training institutions, either missionary-church linked or government or society-group oriented, and have imbibed, along with their training, particular ideologies of care and particular understandings of the meaning and nature of life. It would be of great help if some of the factors that have contributed to such an ideology were placed out in the open, so that we can realize that even the most secular oriented training, which disavows any connection with the Christian theological tradition, or with the colonial structures, have imbibed attitudes towards the body emerging from early Christian understandings of the body, and, whether we know it or not, such attitudes continue to play a role in the debate on the nature and application of care. In the present context, when we have gathered here to be informed and challenged by the reality of HIV/AIDS survivors, such a looking back is necessary so that we can be made aware of all that has been imbibed and which informs our existential present, both directly and indirectly.

 

In what follows I will be presenting three cases regarding the approach to the body in the early Christian tradition and raise issues that would open us to the wider debate regarding the care and treatment of HIV/AIDS survivors today.

 

The Body of the Martyr

 

There is a huge amount of literature preserving the acts and deeds of martyrs in the early centuries. “In the early Church, martyrdoms were exceptionally public events … Christians … were pitched into the cities’ arenas for unarmed combat with gladiators or bulls, leopards and the dreaded bears. … [T]hese displays were financed and chosen by the great men of the cities … . People liked it, and donors courted popularity through this potent psychological form. Violence made excellent viewing, and the crowds could be utterly callous.”[3] For the purpose of our discussion, I would like to highlight one particular episode, that of the martyrdom of a prominent Alexandrian woman, Potamiaena, in the early part of the third century, during the reign of the emperor Severus. We read about the tortures and threats that she had to endure, including the threat to be handed over to the gladiators to be gang-raped.  We read how the crowd tried to insult her and passed vulgar remarks. She was finally burned alive:

 

she nobly endured the end: boiling pitch was slowly poured drop by drop over different parts of her body, from the toes to the top of her head. Such was the struggle that this magnificent young woman endured.[4]

 

The key idea for us is the link between the death of the martyr and the reality that she could not be killed unless she herself was willing. The role of the subject in determining her/his destiny has always played an important role down the ages. The informed choice, the open rationality, death as a spectator-event, in which the one who is about to experience this reality is, up to the end, in control of the ultimate decision, are issues and themes that emerge from this episode. What about those for whom such a possibility of participating in the decision making process is no longer possible? Our story has led to the point where we need to ask about the “spectator” nature of the attitude of some towards HIV/AIDS survivors, where very often decisions that are to be made requires that the survivor, about whom these decisions have to be made, remains a silent participant in the processes leading up to decisions regarding care. How have we been sensitive to the involuntary “marking” of the survivor?

 

The Body of the Ascetic

 

The extreme turns that the monastic movement took in the early centuries of the development of Christianity will be illustrated with the example of the greatest of the pillar-saints, Simeon the Stylite (c. 389 – 459), who lived perched aloft pillars, including his last abode, a pillar sixty feet high, on the top of which was a small railed platform, where he spent the final forty years of his life.[5] After a long period, undergoing extremities of asceticism and facing vicious temptations, we read:

 

His foot developed a gangrenous putrescent ulcer, and harsh pain came and went through all his body. And fearful pains of death seized him, but he endured them. For he did not murmur, nor was he hindered from his labor. … when the affliction grew strong and acted mightily on the holy one, his flesh decayed and his foot stood exposed. … And he watched his foot as it rotted and its flesh decayed. And the foot stood bare like a tree beautiful with branches. He saw that there was nothing on it but tendons and bones. … The blessed man did a marvellous deed that has never been done before: he cut off his foot that he would not be hindered from his work. Who would not weep at having his foot cut off at its joint? But he looked on it as something foreign, and he was not even sad.

 

And as Satan was wallowing in blood and sprinkled with pus and covered in mucus, and the rocks were spattered, the just man nevertheless sang. … While a branch of his body was cut off from its tree, his face was exuding delightful dew and comely glory.[6]

 

Michel Foucault in his monumental history of sexuality points out that the “Christian ascetic movement of the first centuries presented itself as an extremely strong accentuation of the relations of oneself to oneself, but in the form of a disqualification of the values of private life; and when it took the form of cenobitism, it manifested an explicit rejection of any individualism that might be inherent in the practice of reclusion.”[7]

 

The episode that we have highlighted has placed in focus an attitude of contempt for the body, a body seen as a vehicle destined for a higher and greater good, a body which is marked by an almost perverse acceptance of the reality of suffering, but also marked by the fact that such suffering is necessary for the purposes of edification: “The body was fashioned anew, and with it, human order as well.”[8] The ethical issue that emerges from the example of the ascetic is the question regarding the responsibility of the care of self and the reality that marks the body as a site where a greater drama is played out. There is the question regarding how such extremes of asceticism were to be seen by those who claimed to be edified, but were not called upon to practice such forms of asceticism in their own lives. Was it in the impossibility of compliance that non-ascetics were to be edified? Edified to do what?

 

The Body of the Celibate

 

Sexual renunciation has been and is a dominant theme in the history of the church. In the fourth century, the hermit-scholar Jerome wrote:

 

How often, when I was living in the desert, in the vast solitude which gives to hermits a savage dwelling place, parched by a burning sun, how often did I fancy myself among the pleasures of Rome! I used to sit alone because I was filled with bitterness. … Now, although in my fear of hell I had consigned myself to this prison, where I had no companions but scorpions and wild beasts, I often found myself among bevies of girls. My face was pale with fasting, but though my limbs were chilled, yet my mind was burning with desire, and the fires of lust kept bubbling up before me when my flesh was as good as dead. Helpless, I cast myself at the feet of Jesus, I watered them with my tears, I wiped them with my hair: and then I subdued my rebellious body with weeks of abstinence.[9]

 

Here what is important is that the body has not been brought under control by the practice of renunciation, but that it continues to be the abode of the senses in a heightened manner: “The literal pallor and chill of a body ravaged by ascetic fasting was not matched by a cooling of desire; indeed, Jerome’s libidinal imagination was producing dancing girls by the dozen.”[10] A perceptive commentator notes that for Jerome, the body remained “a darkened forest, filled with the roaring of wild beasts, that could only be controlled by rigid codes of diet and by the strict avoidance of occasions for sexual attraction.”[11] This insight has also been the experience of those standing within the great Indian tradition of renunciation, as, for example, Gandhi has so graphically described.[12]

 

Questions on the nature of care for HIV/AIDS Survivors

 

Having examined these cases, we now need to raise and problematise the issues, which having emerged in the past, weigh upon the present.

 

1) The example of the body of the martyr indicates that in the present day context of the consideration of the various aspects of care, even in cases where decisions have to be made without direct reference to the survivor concerned, the presumed rights and consent of the survivor remains a problematic area. With whom does the choice lie? What about those who are in no position to make any kind of informed choice? How do the caregivers interact with the family to whom the survivor belongs? What is the role of economic interests in either prolonging or terminating care? Does the language of cost and benefit belong to such considerations?

 

2) The example of the body of the ascetic seems far removed from any consideration on the various aspects of care. Nevertheless this example has consequences for the complexities of the present. There is a link between the various aspects of care and the perception of suffering. Does suffering have any meaning? Is there dignity in suffering? Does the ability, or lack of ability, to manage pain and the trauma of rejection play any role in coming to an ethical, moral or medical decision?  It has been pointed out that “despite the obvious ways in which asceticism can appear as a pessimistic movement in its alleged flight from ‘the world,’ there is a certain optimism at its heart. Men and women are not slaves to the habitual, but can cultivate extraordinary forms of human existence.”[13] If this is so, then what do the HIV/AIDS survivors have to teach us, in and through their lives, which manifest this extraordinary form of human existence?

 

3) The example of the body of the celibate may have functioned to titillate and amuse. The reality remains that the body as a site of feelings, desires and emotions lead us to the consideration of the body as something beyond the mere physical and physiological. Considering those who are perhaps terminally ill, considering those who may not be in a position to gain from the technology of medical care, the attitudes of those who interact with HIV/AIDS survivors raises issues regarding the various ways of understanding the psychosomatic nature of the human body. When confronted with the reality of a person, who even in the extremity of a possible near-death situation is nevertheless a human being, one needs to ask whether decisions regarding care have sufficiently problematised the sentient nature of the human person, and taken into consideration the body as a site of human feelings.

 

At this point in time, you may be forgiven for thinking that I am obsessed with what would seem to be extreme cases – the martyr, the ascetic and the celibate. You may be forgiven for thinking that these are cases that emerge from the margins. What about ordinary people, what about the life and death of such people who were not called upon to inhabit the boundaries? It is my contention that it has always been the extreme cases that have provided the basis for bringing theological, ethical and moral judgements to bear on the life of the so-called “ordinary people.” Cases on the margin and the intensity of the boundary situation have been the sources from which those who are called upon to make choices draw. Where does all this leave us today, when we have gathered to consider ethical/theological perspectives on care?

 

I realise that I have been taking refuge in examples from the past, and have not yet made any theological affirmations regarding the care of the survivors today. I hope that I have demonstrated that the contemporary debate would be impoverished if it did not take into account this legacy of the past. One could benefit from a deeper analysis of how the inherited Judaeo-Christian tradition has interacted with the attitudes to the body within the Indian religious traditions in informing the issue in the past and even today.

 

My position would be that, theologically, however much one may talk about life as a gift from the beyond, which, nevertheless, has to be lived in the here-and-now, any attempt to brush aside a debate on the responsibility of church and society using so-called “moral” categories in a narrow and restrictive sense would be irresponsible. In talking about the care of survivors, one needs to remember that care includes the dimensions of an intervention, informed or uninformed. How was this intervention done? Why and for whom and by whom? Intervention carries along with it structures of support or lack of support, physical and material, human and technological. Certain attitudes to care can easily lead to a withdrawal into helplessness or a descent into fatalism. It is because “death is an ambivalent event, we cannot achieve  … moral certainty in order to feel comfortable in a horribly complex world of fundamental moral risks.”[14] Questions regarding usefulness of a decision and the limitedness of knowing will continue to be part of the process of deciding, a process that is never free from the responsibility of risk, which has to be seen as the risk of faith It is the wider societal group, which comprises of the health care professionals, the ethicists and theologians, the family, and ultimately the more-or less silent survivor, who are at the core of the decision regarding the nature and methodology of care - care medical, care spiritual, care societal, and care emotional.

 

What does care mean in relation to the body in pain and in terms of human dignity, dignity both in life and in death? The Indian Christian theologian, Stanley J. Samartha, himself suffering great pain because of cancer, poignantly asks: “Are there not moments in human life when dying with dignity is a far better option than dependence on others, humiliating struggles, and silent or audible cries of pain?”[15] Terms such as love, value and life have to be seen not in monochromatic terms, but the polyvalent and ambivalent nature of human reality has to be seen in all its variety. A narrow appeal to a presumed “religious” ground to problematize care, functions only to obscure wider issues regarding the body and society. I hope we have the basis for a challenging and fruitful discussion. 

 

 

 

 



[1] The Rev. Dr. J. Jayakiran Sebastian is a Presbyter of the Church of South India, and Associate Professor in the Department of Theology and Ethics, at the United Theological College, Bangalore.

 

[2] See the analysis by Frédérique Apffel Marglin, “Smallpox in Two Systems of Knowledge,” in Frédérique Apffel Marglin and Stephen Apffel Marglin, eds., Dominating Knowledge: Development, Culture and Resistance (Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1990), pp. 102 – 144.

[3] Robin Lane Fox, Pagans and Christians (San Francisco: Harper, 1986), p. 420.

 

[4] For the document “The martyrdom of Potamiaena and Basilides,” see Herbert Musurillo, intro., texts and translations, The Acts of the Christian Martyrs (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972), pp. 132 - 135  (with Latin text), introduction pp. xxvii - xxviii.

 

[5] See Susan Ashbrook Harvey, intro and trans., “Jacob of Serug, Homily on Simeon the Stylite,” in Vincent L. Wimbush, ed., Ascetic Behavior in Greco-Roman Antiquity: A Sourcebook (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1990), pp. 15 – 28.

[6] Homily on Simeon the Stylite, Ibid., pp. 20 – 22.

 

[7] Michel Foucault, The Care of the Self: The History of Sexuality, Volume 3 (New York: Vintage Books, 1986), p. 43.

 

[8] Susan Ashbrook Harvey, “The Stylite’s Liturgy: Ritual and Religious Identity in Late Antiquity,” in Journal of Early Christian Studies, Vol. 6, No. 3 (1998), p. 539.

 

[9] Jerome, Letter 22.7: 398, translated in J. Stevenson, Creeds, Councils and Controversies, new ed. revised W. H. C. Frend (London: SPCK, 1989), p. 179.

[10] Patricia Cox Miller, “The Blazing Body: Ascetic Desire in Jerome’s Letter to Eustochium,” in Journal of Early Christian Studies, Vol. 1, No. 1 (1993), p. 36.

 

[11] Peter Brown, The Body and Society: Men, Women, and Sexual Renunciation in Early Christianity (New York: Columbia University Press, 1988), p. 376.

 

[12] See, for example, M. K. Gandhi, The Story of my Experiments with Truth (Ahmedabad: Navajivan Press, 1927), pp. 73 – 79 and passim.

 

[13] Elizabeth A. Clark, Reading Renunciation: Asceticism and Scripture in Early Christianity (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999), p. 17.

[14] Bonnie J. Mkiller-McLemore, Death, Sin and the Moral Life: Contemporary Cultural Interpretations of Death, American Academy of Religion Academy Series No. 59 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1988), p. 170.

 

[15] S. J. Samartha, I Could Not Go to Church on Good Friday (Bangalore: Asian Trading Corporation, 2000), p. 7.