Tiki for Jai Ram

“How should we advise him?” Santosh asked Shanti. 

“I don’t know,” replied Shanti. “If he keeps the tiki, people will think he is still a good Hindu when, in fact, he has become a Christian and taken baptism. But if he doesn’t keep the traditions, he will alienate his family and the whole village!” 

No part of the Bible had yet been translated into this language of South Asiawhen Santosh and his wife, Shanti, had arrived in the area. After a few years in which they became fluent in the language and built good relationships with local people, they were ready for the task of translation. As they searched for a reliable language assistant, they eventually thought of Jai Ram, a young man who lived in a nearby village. Jai Ram had been born into a highly respected traditional Hindu Brahman family. As a child, he was taught the customs of his family and his parents hoped he would become well settled in life. They made sure he received the best education they could afford, and Jai Ram was a good student who was well liked in his community.

On graduation from the local college, Jai Ram was looking for work and so agreed to help check the first draft of the Gospel of Mark which Santosh and Shanti had translated into his native tongue. It was during this work that the story of Christ gripped him, and he decided to become his disciple. At first, declaring his new path of devotion was not problematic. 

“So long as you continue to follow our customs, babu,” his mother said, “it doesn’t matter who you worship.” 

Three years had passed. Now one of his close relatives had died, and his uncle had just visited his home to tell them. This meant that the Death Feast would soon be held in the deceased relative’s village to honour him. In that Brahman tradition, the family of the deceased hosts large feasts on the eleventh and twelfth days after the family member has died. It is believed that the more people they feed on these days the more spiritual merit accrues to the person who has died and the better the quality of life they experience in their next reincarnation.

Jai Ram was troubled. He would be expected to come to the Death Feast to show respect for his dead relative. Before the feast he would be expected to have his head shaved in the traditional fashion of a relative of the deceased, leaving a tuft of hair at the back of the head - a tiki. Could he do that now that he was a follower of Jesus? Furthermore, what should he do about the feast? Could he miss the feast without it being considered terribly disrespectful? Dishonour would be brought on his family. 

In the morning, the young man walked over to the next village and set to work on the translation as usual. Over lunch he discussed his problem with Santosh and Shanti.

“Why don’t you attend the feast but not shave your head?” suggested Santosh.

“But,” replied Jai Ram respectfully, “that would be even worse than not going at all, as it would be showing disregard for an important part of our traditions.”

“Then why don’t you just have a barber shave your wholehead and not leave a tiki?” asked Shanti. “That way everyone will realize you are not a Hindu anymore because you won’t have a tiki.”

“But there is nothing in the Bible condemning keeping the tiki, is there?” asked Jai Ram.

“True,” said Santosh, “but doesn’t the Bible tell us to avoid even the appearance of wrong? What I am inside should match what I am outside.”

“What about any other rituals?” asked Santosh. “The head shaving is just the preliminary part. Won’t you also be expected to join the others at the ‘holy area’ by the pond, where the priest reads from the Hindu scriptures, and offer flowers, incense and sweets to the gods?” 

“I know,” sighed Jai Ram, “and my family would be very unhappy with me if I bring shame on them by not participating.”

“Could you go along to the feast but skip being involved in any rituals?” asked Shanti.

“Of course, being there and taking part in the feast is the main thing,” replied Jai Ram. “I could try to explain that I can’t take part in the actual religious rituals. But nobody’s done that before. There is bound to be opposition. It will look like I don’t respect my elders.”

“Look, we’ll pray about it tonight and we’ll talk about it again in the morning, Jai Ram brother,” said Santosh.

That evening, as Jai Ram wandered back to the village, he agonized about what he should do. He remembered that even the apostle Paul had shaved his head (Acts 18:18). He wondered what he could do without compromising his own convictions and conscience. To make it more complicated, however, the following week, he was scheduled to give some instruction to a group of new believers from a Hindu background. They would be sure to realize what he had done, when he turned up with just a few days’ hair growth. Maybe they would thinkhe had compromised his faith even if his conscience was clear. Would this cause some of them to stumble in their faith?

Santosh and Shanti also discussed the situation late into the evening. They realized this decision also had repercussions for them. If Jai Ram upset everyone in the village by his actions the villagers would assume they had instructed him that he should not follow their customs. Would this ruin their relationship with the village and discredit their work? On the other hand, if he did indeed shave his head in the traditional way and this became known among believers in the nearby town, would it ruin the relationship and trust they had with other believers and church leaders?

There was no easy answer. Santosh and Shanti agreed that the issue really came down to the significance of the head shaving and tiki, and that of the feast. In the morning, they would walk over to the village, go over the biblical principles with him and see what he did.

To Bribe or Not to Bribe?

Katie walked into the office of the Social Welfare Council (SWC) and greeted the clerk at the desk: “Namaste, Gopalji!”. “Namaste, Katieji,” he replied. It was Katie’s fifth visit in as many days. She had been getting to know some of the workers at the office and for the most part they seemed friendly enough. But why was it so difficult to get her Non-Governmental Organization (NGO) registered? She was puzzled and getting more frustrated as the days passed.

Katie had arrived in this South Asian country two months ago, after a long break back home. She had spent two years in the country before and it was during this time that she became aware of the problem of sex trafficking and the need for safe homes for the girls that get caught up in this sordid trade. Once home in the UK she had visited dozens of churches to share her vision and was now back in the country to establish an NGO to care for such girls. There were a number of bureaucratic hurdles to be overcome before the charity could become a reality: permission would need to be sought from the Home Ministry, Foreign Ministry, Finance Ministry, and the Social Welfare Council, the government body that regulates charities. Getting the charity registered with the SWC then was the first, and major official task for Katie if she would see her vision become a reality.

As soon as she arrived she had visited the office and registered her intention to set up an NGO. She had filled in multiple forms and presented numerous policy documents covering all aspects of the running of the NGO. A ‘Letter of No Objection’ had been obtained from her embassy. Clearance had been obtained from the local police. Fees had been paid. As far as she knew all the paperwork was now complete. All she needed now was official registration. And for that the Director’s signature was required.

But day after day Katie was told by Mr Adhikari, the section head, that the Director was not available: one day he was in a meeting; the next day he was not well; the day after that an unspecified problem had arisen. Each day she was told to “Come back tomorrow”. Katie was getting demoralized. “Would my dream ever become a reality?” she mused to herself. There were girls even now in a vulnerable position who could do with a safe house to stay in. Without registration Katie was powerless to act.

Now, after another fruitless day hanging around the offices, Katie went to get advice from the director of another NGO. “Have you tried offering a gift?” asked Bob, an old hand at dealing with officials.

“No, certainly not. Bribery is unethical,” replied Katie.

“Oh, it is not bribery,” went on Bob. “You see, you have to understand, government employees are paid a pittance for their work. Everybody knows that they have to supplement their income through gifts otherwise they can’t manage. So it is not a bribe, it is an accepted and normal transaction for the work they are doing.”

“But they should do the work without ‘gifts’ and besides, if you start giving ‘gifts’ for one thing it will never end,” objected Katie.

“You are not asking them to do anything illegal or unjust,” said Bob. “The gift is an ‘acceleration fee’ to encourage them to do their duty in a more timely and efficient manner.”

“But there will be no receipt, so how do I account for that in my book-keeping?” went on Katie. “And besides, my supporters would be appalled at their sacrificial donations being used to feather some bureaucrat’s bed.”

“Well, that is just how it goes Katie. You better get used to it,” Bob replied. “Everyone does it. It is the only way to get things done. You must figure in that 10% of your finances will go missing in one way or another. If you don’t play the game, you will never get registered and all those girls will have no place to go.”

Katie left Bob’s place feeling deflated. Should she ‘go with the flow’ or try to buck the system? If she did start passing out ‘gifts’ for such services would she not just become part of the problem? But if she didn’t, her dream might be dead in the water – the girls would continue to be in a vulnerable position. She felt that it was all so unjust but wondered whether such a small injustice, if indeed it was that and not just a neutral aspect of the culture that she had to get used to, should be accepted in order to avoid an even greater injustice should the NGO not be registered and the girls remain at risk. What should she do?

Should Raj Accept Kija Puja?

“Brother John, what should I do? All my life I have received Kija Puja (‘brother offering’) from my sisters on this special day. If I stop now I will offend my sisters and may even be ostracized by my whole family.” Raj had come to John for advice and was in quite an agitated state. Today was Kija Puja, one of the great feast days of the year for the people of Nepal. It was the high point of the festival of Swanti (called Tihar or Diwali among other communities of South Asia). On previous days, successive animals and deities had been worshipped in the homes and courtyards across the Valley: the crow, the dog, the cow, and then one’s own self. Now it was the day for sisters to give an offering to their brothers. Involvement in the rituals of the previous days was to some extent optional, but on this day everyone was expected to be involved.

In common with many communities across South Asia, all married Newar daughters visit the home they grew up in, and where their parents and brothers still live, for this important ritual. Three mandala designs are drawn on the floor in a prepared space in the room, symbolic of the gods Ganesh (the elephant headed god of good luck), Janmaraj (the god of birth), and Yamaraj (the god of death) and a short puja (ritual offering) is given to the deities. The brothers sit on mats along the wall of the room and the sisters draw another mandala in front of each of them, symbolic of the brother himself. The sisters then offer the brothers flowers and fruits as well as bright red vermilion paste (sinha) applied to the forehead as a way of bringing the blessing of the gods to them. The ritual is an elaborate plea to the god Yamaraja to prolong the lives of their brothers. The brothers then give gifts to their sisters in return, usually in the form of new saris and money. When the ritual is complete the whole family sits down and enjoys a feast. The festival is overwhelmingly a family event. In the days that follow Kija Puja the family calls its married-out daughters and nieces and their children to another more elaborate feast.

Raj and his wife Sharmila had been meeting with John for nearly two years and a few months earlier had declared that they were now devotees of Jesus. John had been careful to introduce them to Jesus in the Bible without imposing on them foreign expectations of what discipleship to Christ might look like. As much as possible he wanted Raj and Sharmila to remain in their community so that they would be able to witness to Christ among them.

John was puzzled, however, by this apparent conundrum: to what extent may believers in Christ, living within their community participate in the festivals? Involvement in a festival can take place in different ways. Often a person will participate in the rituals in a merely perfunctory way because he is not religiously minded. Others, however, may take the ritual more seriously. Whatever their motivations and attitudes the important thing was to do the rituals.

John knew that other Christ-followers in the Valley separated themselves from their family during festival times so as not to compromise their new faith. The men never returned to their parents’ home during Kija Puja to honour their sisters. To the sisters it felt as if they did not have a brother anymore, and it caused much grief to the family. Consequently, apart from the many church members who had migrated into the Valley from the countryside, the churches were made up of individual local believers who had broken their family ties.

“Raj, you know the first commandment, not to have any other gods before the Lord,” said John. “Yes, Johnji,” replied Raj (using the suffix ‘ji’ to show honour to his teacher), “but I also want to obey the fifth commandment, to honour my father and mother. Surely I would dishonour my parents and my sisters if I do not participate in the festival!” As they discussed Raj’s options they went over the various rituals that were involved. The puja ritual was not required of the brother but of the sister so he would not have to worship idols, but if he accepted the offering from his sisters was he not condoning their false worship and thereby leading them further into sin? John also knew that other followers of Christ would doubt Raj’s credentials as a disciple if he went along. He might even be disciplined by his church. But the church was made up largely of outsiders who had migrated to the Valley and had no idea about the local festivals and the sort of struggles that believers like Raj went through. Was there anything actually wrong in just participating fully in the whole ritual? It was the heart that was important wasn’t it?

“What if I departed from tradition,” asked Raj, “and rather than receive sinha that had first been offered to the deities, request that a separate sinha paste be made and offered to me as a token of love rather than as an offering of worship? After all, people offer sinha to others on many special occasions, not just at times of worship.”  “But wouldn’t your sisters just think you’ve taken leave of your senses?” replied John. “The Bible says that we must keep ourselves from idols,” he added, quoting from 1 John 5:21. “I won’t be worshipping idols, Johnji,” responded Raj. Then John had another thought. “What about the risk of being afflicted by demons, brother,” he said. “Paul tells us that ‘the sacrifices of pagans are offered to demons,’” he added, quoting 1 Corinthians 10:20. “Yes, but he also said that ‘an idol is nothing’” (1 Cor 8:4), Raj replied. “Oh, what should I do, Johnji? It is giving me such a headache.”

John thought very carefully, and then gave his suggestion...

Wood for the Pyre

“Brother David, Saila’s mother has died and he has a problem he wants to discuss with you.” Dilip, David’s young Hindu landlord had come up the outside stairs to David’s flat with Saila, one of their neighbours. Saila was clearly upset. His face was drawn and downcast. He spoke quietly, hardly raising his gaze to meet David’s eyes, while Dilip stood by quietly. Saila’s elderly mother had died just an hour or two earlier. Her body was in the flat next door and needed to be taken as soon as possible to the burning ghat by the river for cremation. According to Hindu custom cremation should be carried out as quickly as possible after death; certainly within 24 hours. In a hot country like India it is a physical necessity. As with many customs, though, this is also explained in religious terms: in this case, a speedy cremation is seen as important for the good of the departed soul.

Saila came to his problem. His family was poor. David knew that. (He also knew that one of the reasons for that was that Saila drank heavily; he could sometimes hear him beating his wife at night.) He could not afford the wood that they needed to cremate his mother’s body at the burning ghat. “How much do you need?” David asked. “5000 rupees,” Saila mumbled under his breath. David didn’t quite catch that and looked up at Dilip for clarification. “Are you able to lend Saila 5000 rupees?” Dilip asked. That was a lot of money for anyone. David did a quick calculation in his head. Saila, a day labourer, would probably have to work two months to earn that. Even if he didn’t drink so heavily that would be a lot of money for a simple labourer to have stashed away in his flat.

Clearly here was a legitimate need. Moreover, Dilip, David’s landlord had brought Saila to him for help. Everyone in the neighbourhood knew he was a follower of Jesus. “Aren’t believers in Jesus supposed to be generous and kind, to help those in need?” thought David. There was so much poverty in India. It seemed to David that it stared him in the face day after day. Beggars held out their hands as he walked along the street. Hardly anyone gave to them. Most passers-by seemed not to even look at such people. On the other hand, wandering holy men stopped by the compound most mornings begging for a handful of rice, and the landlord’s wife always gave to them. 

David and Sue had been living in India for a year now and had enjoyed building relationships with their Hindu neighbours, particularly with their landlord and his wider family. They had had several opportunities to tell them about Jesus and Dilip had appeared to have some interest. As David thought about the issue in front of him, it seemed like a test. If he didn’t lend money to Saila Jesus himself may not be held in honour because David was his only representative in this neighbourhood.

On the other hand, thought David, wouldn’t lending to Saila affirm his lifestyle choices? Shouldn’t he rather make a stand at this point? Also, if he did lend to Saila, might he not have a string of others turning up at his door for handouts? David had heard that most Indians did not have a habit of saving for life’s calamities; whenever she had an illness in the family their house helper, Parvati, would always let Sue know the price of the medicine, in the hope, Sue reckoned, that she would help out with the cost. They usually did. After all, the local people were for the most part very poor and it was hardly surprising that they were not prepared to face a crisis. But didn’t this encourage dependency? How would people like Parvati and Saila learn to save and be self-reliant if David and Sue always helped out when there was a need? But here was a particularly acute need, and David’s landlord had brought Saila to him. The witness of David and Sue was at stake. David said they would discuss it and get back to them. Dilip left with Saila to go and wait in the courtyard.

David and Sue sat down to talk it over. “He isn’t asking us to give him the money,” David said. “True, but what is the chance that he will be able to pay us back?” Sue replied. “I know. It seems unlikely doesn’t it?” “Perhaps that is why Dilip doesn’t want to help him out,” said Sue. “But surely he could help. He has a decent business. And he has a steady income in rent from us.” David was reminded that, in fact, Saila was the one their landlord called to do the ritual sacrifice of the goat in the annual Dasara festival. Saila always received a portion of the meat for that doing that. Occasionally he could be seen doing odd jobs around the compound as well. So why did Dilip bring Saila to them? Why doesn’t he sort out the problem? “What about Dilip’s three brothers who all have good jobs?” added Sue. Each one, in fact, lived with his family in his own house in the compound and collected rent on their upstairs flat. “You know how it is,” David replied. “They have financial pressures of their own with their children in fee-paying schools. Besides they would be unlikely to have 5000 rupees in cash in the house.”

The more David and Sue discussed it, the more they felt they were being used. But they felt that they must give to be a good witness in a society that seemed to treat the poor with such callous disregard. Jesus’ injunction, “Give to everyone who asks you” (Luke 6:30) kept coming back to their minds. And it was not as if they were struggling financially. In fact David had just gone to the bank that morning so they had the cash on hand. But would their supporters approve of this use of their money? Some of their supporters worked very hard to enable David and Sue to live and minister there. And wasn’t the money the Lord’s, in the end? Would he approve of this? Would he not hold them accountable for their use of this cash? Would he not want them to help Saila out? Surely, thought David, if the cattle on a thousand hills belong to him, 5000 rupees was peanuts.

Saila and Dilip were waiting in the courtyard. They couldn’t make them go on waiting. The wood needed to be purchased right away. David and Sue committed the problem to the Lord in prayer, and then went down to give their answer to Saila.

If you were David or Sue, what would you do?