observation
The dust swirls as we skid into the intersection. Cows, motorbikes, rickshaw autos, trucks, and buses with overhanging passengers settle in around us. For a moment in time we’re knit together by traffic rules. The driver next over spits red betel juice out the window. In the crowded bus, women sit neatly in their beautiful saris, fresh flowers in their hair. To the right an auto driver leans back to pick his nose. The street sweeper goes on with her job, seemingly oblivious of the pack of us. One arm rests effortlessly on her back, the other plies the collection of branches to collect refuse in mounds. Across the street the temple sports four mega loudspeakers. Om-ming across the milieu, the drone of mantras blares the required prayers at everyone. Next door the mosque has the same quota of speakers, with equal airspace. The primary difference seems to be in style of construction. The temple is covered in miniature carvings of various half-animal deities, while the mosque has the typical spire. Driving around town it’s apparent that religion is a required part of life and caste. The shrine for Mary with her Queen-of-Heaven set of stars has the same offering of flowers as the shrine for the half-animals gods. Mosque, church, and temple have priests, walls, novices, salaries, and ceremonies. We’ve had it explained to us by locals that the religions are just various castes. Like the difference between Brahmin and Untouchable, there are Muslims, Hindus, and Christians.
Yesterday we met a couple from L.A. They are both Indian, but are totally Americanized. He wears the Hindu flowers sewn up in a necklace around his neck, while he speaks fondly of the food at his childhood Catholic boarding school in Calcutta. When talk flowed to religion, he figured they were all the same. One just takes the best from them all, and leaves the rest alone. Too much religion isn’t good. Mankind always corrupts things; and religion is corrupt as a result.
How convenient. We each have our karma, kismet, or fate. Placed in neat little boxes, we leave each other alone in our various paths up the mountain to god. It’s wise, modern, and best for society to stay distanced and polite. As such, it becomes unconventional, fundamentalist, backward, or dangerous to step beyond the assigned gates and move from religion to Faith.
Two days ago I spent the morning on the floor with two handicapped babies, their caregiver, and the local nurse. The nurse and I clicked immediately, realizing we both knew our Lord and Saviour personally. Although her English was limited, her face was so lined with radiant smiles that she was uncontainable. When the caregiver saw that we have the same Friend and are excited about His transforming power in our lives, she wanted to know more. As we shared the simple Truth of God’s Love, she asked for prayer. Moving beyond the facade, she realized that we weren’t talking religion.
As we leave the intersection, we pass Granny, carefully arranging flowers and rice around an abandoned anthill. She hopes to pacify the snake god inside. Across the street, the Muslims line up to face Mecca for their require oblations to Allah. In my mind’s eye, I see the child caregiver’s new smile, and know that religion is indeed man made, but those who know the Living Lord have moved beyond religion to Life.