Reformation and Restoration in Hispaniola

A few months back I found myself in the back of a small, white commercial van bouncing along the dusty roads of an equally small, rural Dominican village. In the van, crammed inside with me, were a number of military physicians, nurses, optometrists and other medical personnel sharing space and either passing out for a brief disorienting nap or discussing whatever it is suited our interests at the particular moment. And this particular moment it was Mormonism.

Now those who know me know there's little I love to talk about more than Mormonism.* Nothing gets me more excited than the Book of Mormon. Between all the talk about Nephites, Lamanites, golden plates, seer stones, potions, elves, and orcs; I get pretty psyched. And I was never more excited than when they finally made it all into a movie trilogy starring Rudy Ruettiger. I wasn’t the one who did the talking this time, though, as we had with us on this particular ride our very own gang of Mormon missionaries. Or is it a pod? A pod of Mormon missionaries? Gaggle? Herd? A murder? In whichever case the Mormons -- there were about 6 or 7 of 'em -- had been working with us on and off for the previous few days in our attempts to convert the entire country into a liberal democracy under our Lord and Savior Joseph Smith. They helped fill our significant Spanish translator gap and served as essentially our only Creole translators early on. They were not officially assigned to work with us, and their attendance was rather random, but their assistance was invaluable.

This particular conversation started with my relatively innocuous question of why they all wore white button up shirts and ties. (Answer: something to do with them being elders?) This was then followed by my slightly less innocent question of what the next step after elder was, and exactly how many points it took to level up. After that the fire had been set and the rest of the back of the van took over in what would be a 45 minute debate as to whether or not Mormonism was the One, True™ Religion. The details of the discussion are largely unimportant as it was mostly a disjointed, random exchange of accusations, defenses, and barely comprehensible apologetics as these conversations often become in the setting of large group discussion, but what did interest me was the oft-repeated claim that what separated Mormonism from other religions and other brands of Christianity in general was that its foundation was not a “reformation” of sorts – i.e. something decided upon and brought about my man – but rather a unique “restoration” which was God breathed and Heavenly led. Man was not rebuking and reforming man, but God Himself was intervening to restore the true religion to the planet. Its history then, whether true or not, was what separated it from other heresies and was what served as testament to its ultimate veracity. It was a claim I have heard made by many religions now, and a claim which, by and large, I think is bunk. Whatever you want to call it, reformation or restoration, the processes which brought about a good number of today’s modern religions were largely the same.

Luther, prior to taking the first steps towards what would eventually be Lutheranism and the start of Protestantism as a whole, was only brought to take that step by a divine vow to God during a terrible thunderstorm. Calvin, before his embracing of the six points, was only led away from Catholicism and into his reformist zeal by a personal conversion experience of his own. Even though neither of these “reformers” invested into their religions stories about sunglasses and mass transatlantic migrations to South America, each felt he was nevertheless led by God to “restore” Christianity to its rightful, original state. And truly no religious sect can be said to be more in touch with the Divine than the Charismatics who regularly commune with Him through the gifts of tongues and prophesy, and who in their birth at the turn of the last century felt their changes were not some academically inspired changing of the rules but a glorious return to Christianity’s ancient roots. And if survival of belief despite wackiness of back story is the key to a true restoration? Truly no Christian branch can beat the Seventh Day Adventists who have at their very foundation a failed guess at apocalypse by their theological head William Miller in 1844. And if authenticity is verified by an inability to compose wackiness on one’s own, then no Christian denomination has got anything on the Prophet Muhammad (peace and virgins be upon him) who was thought by many to be completely illiterate and yet received and recorded God’s word through Gabriel. From a proper vantage point it is indeed not the restorative nature of Mormonism which distinguishes itself from all other religions, but it is what in fact unites it with all others. No preacher or prophet since the passing of BC to AD has claimed to invent a religion. They have all claimed to simply be bringing man back to what God had always wanted for him: the One, True™ Religion.

Mormon doctrine aside, what surprised me most from my interactions with the gang of Mormons wasn’t their beliefs, but their disposition. Given another time, another place, and another twist of faith they would no longer be Mormon missionaries but Evangelical missionaries. Nearly everything about them save their pointdexter shirts and ties reminded me of the dutiful, young Christian missionary fresh from his church youth group, ready to passionately share his faith, and with only a superficial familiarity of the depth and nature of the world’s great number of faiths. Despite their stuttering and stumbling, despite the fragmented sometimes circular nature of their arguments, and despite the flashes of confusion that periodically shadowed their faces they continued to debate and share as if by earnestness and eagerness they could make up for what they didn’t understand. They were being the salt of the Earth, a city on a hill, the lights of the world -- only in a world with a slightly different God who just so happened to have a thing for polygamy. Although I’d like to think I was a slightly smarter and handsomer version of them back in the day the nature and character of my belief was likely very much the same.

With that car ride as the backdrop for my religious disposition during the trip, my religious experience in the Dominican was not over. On the next to last day, the evening before our flight back to the States we went to the beach on the northern coast of the island. Good times were had by all, too good a time was had by many. After fighting to get back on the exact same buses we rode in on, we then slowly convoyed back to the FOB a noisy mess of relatively inebriated gringos. While many slept, a sizable portion decided a late evening drive home was the perfect time to tell random jokes for an hour straight all of which, from what I can tell, were terrifically funny. Having laughed as much as I could that day already I put on some head phones, turned on some Eve 6, and had some time to myself. And I never felt more alone. Not in the lonely sense -- I had a good friend sitting across from me in the seat adjacent, passed out -- but in the cosmic, existential, you are alone in the universe sense. It has been in my best estimation for a number of years now that there is no god, but it was only now that as much as such a thought can be felt I felt it. Thinking of the trip and the various parties that had taken part in it: the Mormon missionaries who valiantly strove to shape the world into God’s great image; the Haitian patients numbed by tragedy, poverty, and sometimes a bit of the dullards; the Dominican patients from all walks of life, with all sorts of expectations, who all for whatever reasons generally didn’t like the Haitians; the young Dominican translators who generously helped translate for us when they weren’t too busy flirting amongst themselves; the forward operating base’s officer corps who were primarily concerned with the strict implementation of rules and successful project implementation or enjoyment of the experience secondarily; the residents who were assigned to the MEDRETE and who were indifferent to its outcomes; the residents who volunteered for the job and who were disillusioned, excited, or bewildered with its progress; the multitude of family, friends, and strangers back home and the world over going about their lives, focused solely on their lives, and familiar only with their own perspectives; and the notion of an all powerful god underwriting the whole story seemed to me just a little silly. I don’t use run on sentences loosely -- in two weeks I had met and interacted with a seemingly numberless sum of people of different backgrounds, upbringings, world views, and nowhere did I see any grand purpose underwriting any of their lives. There was no unifying theme or central plot, just a thousand unconnected story lines. God’s invisible hand in life is often stated to be that of a great weaver forever working on the most intricate, beautiful, and complex of tapestries that is our world. We, seeing only one side of it, the side of its construction with its loose and extraneous threads and colors, often do not appreciate any sense or design in it. But God, seeing the finished side with every string in place and every image in full detail, knowing the pattern and purpose behind His every stroke, fully appreciates the plan He has for every one of us. I acknowledge my view is limited in life, but I feel I got the biggest glimpse yet of the tapestry, even if the reversed side, and still all I see is threads.

This is not meant to be a polemic against religion. The variability in world views and life courses does not prove anything about god. The seeming lack of purpose proves nothing more than that we are perhaps not meant to know. All I know is that during that ride back to base with all the commotion of the preceding twelve days sloshing around in my mind I’d never less felt a need for there to be a god in the world and I’d never less seen evidence of one in life. And though that may sound like a despairing thing to say, for me it is not. It was a moment of clarity. A brief moment of serenity. I was comfortable because it made sense even if it wasn’t the Truth everyone hopes for. When we got back to the barracks and as I sweated up to my sweaty room I was grateful for the Mormons and all their Mormonism. Their efforts may have not paid the dividends they had wanted, but I definitely feel as if I had profited from the experience. It’s just a shame I couldn’t join their club. I hear there ain’t no Heaven like Mormon Heaven.

*Wait, that’s Mormonism? I thought that was Pokemon? Isn’t Mormonism a card game? Pokemon versus the Latter Day Saints?

India Trip: A Meeting with the Devotees

FROM 1/16/08:

Initially I had planned to write every two or three days. Long enough to not be spending all my time on the computer but not so long that each entry became excessive and tedious. This week I will make an exception because this week, Monday, I met with God.

I do not mean I met with God in a personalized, spiritual sense. And I do not mean that I met with God in a mysterious or metaphysical sense. Rather, I actually walked up to God after a brief wait in line, and She handed me a scoop of holy water. Realizing that it is not every day one meets in person the divine I figured it would be good to squeeze in a few extra blog entries for the week. So now, too, through my hopefully supernaturally inspired fingers you also can have an idea of what it is like to know God. Or as She likes to be called: Amma.

- disclaimer -
It is likely that bringing up the topic of religion will result in my stepping on some people's toes. It is also likely that in this particular case I may dance on a great many toes. I am admittedly ignorant about a great deal of the intricacies of Eastern religion, and I am also admittedly inclined to be skeptical of the supernatural both in its ancient and newer manifestations, but I am going to go ahead and, from what I do know, say that Amma and her devotees are, straight up, a cult. I understand that for some if not a significant portion of Hindus such gurus are a significant and real part of their faith, but seriously people, Amma and her devotees are as cultish as you get without a sizable arms cache. I am sorry if this offends anyone, but even more sorry that anyone would find this offensive.
- disclaimer -

So back to the story. Looking for things to do in Vellore is not an easy task as it is a relatively small, relatively rural town. The fort was nice, and I enjoyed visiting the temple, but that, it seemed, was about all there was to do tourist wise aside from shopping. Until someone told us about the Golden Temple that is. Just 5 km outside of Vellore was India's largest golden temple, and, yes, by golden temple I do mean the temple is covered in actual gold. In this case about 1.2 or 1.5 tons of it. Not sure of the actual number, but when you start talking about gold in tonnage I don't imagine the decimal points really matter. The temple is composed mostly of other material and copper of course, but all of it, just about every square inch, is covered with at least 6 layers of gold foil that have been intricately plated on. We're getting ahead of ourselves, though, so I'll return to the beginning.

Upon hearing of this golden temple, actually more formally known as Sri Puram Golden Temple, we decided we had to go. Conveniently that Monday Rachel, Paul, Rebecca, and I had the afternoon off from CHAD. As we had been told it was a couple hour ordeal we decided that now was the time, and so, after obtaining for ourselves a few autorichshaws, off we went. About a 15 minute bumpy ride through the outskirts of town later we were there though from the outer perimeter walls we could not really see anything yet. It was only after we dispensed with our shoes (as you are to do in all Hindu temples I believe) and Rebecca's camera (cameras and phones are banned as they detract from the spirituality of the experience) that we were able to get in the first cordon of walls and begin the actual experience of Amma and Her Golden Temple.

Before we could get our first glimpses of it all, however, we had to walk through an extensive series of lines. Thankfully today was a relatively light day and the lines were not nearly as long as they could sometimes be so within a few minute we were to the cages where visitors must amass before their final entrance to the temple complex itself. Here, in one of three or four holding cells, we waited with about 200+ Indians for our turn to make the trek. I am under the understanding that we are sequestered there momentarily to prevent an overwhelming deluge of people onto the temple grounds at any one time, but I am not sure. Whatever the reason we sat in metal chairs surrounded by huge metal fences for about 10 minutes before being allowed in. In order to begin to awaken our souls to the cosmic forces further within -- and likely to make it feel less like a prison holding cell -- the area was surrounded with pictures of Amma and Her cohorts and various quotes and sayings primarily from Amma herself.

Once we got through the metal detectors and x-rays we got into the temple grounds itself and it was, quite literally, a bit hard to describe. It all seemed very, very similar, and yet very, very different. It looked like a theme park, and yet felt nothing like one. The entrance was a long, stone, immaculately clean path split in two by an elaborate series of water fountains and falls. Everything was landscaped and tidy. At the end of about 70 or 80 yards of the entrance walkway the path veered abruptly left in the beginning turns of what would eventually be a Star of David design (a very spiritually charged shape we were later told.) The path itself was covered by a colorfully painted awning and on either side of the path the vedic and Amma quotes continued. We later found out that you are supposed to walk this path in silence and contemplation, but we did it as noisy, American tourists chattering amongst ourselves. I was not particularly attentive of the other visitors, but I am pretty sure we were actually not the only ones talking, though. Anyway, after about 15 minutes of walking with 85% of the star complete we made it to a separate path, again with water fountains and falls, which finally took us into the center of the star and to the golden temple itself.

The golden temple was, in and of itself, nothing entirely remarkable. It was a ring around a water filled area with another more central area inside the moat where the various Hindu rituals actually took place. The outer ring was like the path before, stone and painted wood, while the inner area was, as mentioned before, almost completely fashioned out of gold leaf. The pillars, the statues, the ceilings, and roof were all gold. It is hard to describe the dimensions, but it would have been a relatively large house in India if that is at all a helpful comparison. (And likely not.) There were also some, in my opinion, rather gaudy glass chandeliers hanging intermittently from the gold ceiling, but most everything was glinting, shining gold. There were a few people who for whatever reason had been given access to this inner area and at the most extreme end of the temple where the open air, pillar supported area gave way to a small also golden room there was some sort of swami character performing the daily pujas to better the world. He was not golden as far as I could tell.

The temple, for all its glory, was not where the real fun began, however. That came with our visit to the information center/gift shop. As we were not allowed to take photos we needed to find something with a picture that we could share with others so the gift shop seemed a good place to start. As we approached we noticed through the windows there was a white woman inside, and usually where there're white women there is easily understood English so we were excited. We began talking to her, and she did indeed speak excellent English, but within a few minutes if not seconds her excitement level kicked up a notch. "Would you like a chance to receive a blessing from Amma?!" "Amma what?" "Come there's little time. I was just about to head over there myself to receive the blessing he is such a nice man you are so lucky to have come at this time so feel people receive such an opportunity..." and so on and so forth. As she spoke quickly, friendly, and was already headed out the door we, somewhat confused, headed out after her. We crossed the street, bypassed a few lines and pushed through a few others, and finally arrived at a separate, smaller, less golden temple a little ways away.

In this comparatively boring temple we were introduced to her husband. He was a family practice physician in Canada, and she, it turned out, had a variety of PhDs in a variety of things including world religion. These Canadians were the first of a few "devotees" we were to meet and who, after experiencing a variety of miracles/magic tricks, began to believe in this Goddess called Amma. In preparation for meeting with this deity we were instructed to cup our left hand under our right, receive the blessing -- which in this case took the form of spiced water --, take a sip, and pour the rest over our heads. If Amma chose to speak to us we could certainly talk back if not initiate the conversation ourselves, but with little time to think of what to say to God in man's form we were before Her receiving our blessings. The Canadian women gave us a brief introduction which seemed to have slightly startled the otherwise tranquil Amma and, though I cannot remember who he asked this to as its blurry and he spoke softly, I believe he asked us how we were liking India. (Yes I went from "she" to "he" here, but, well, the goddesses -- there's three in all that compose the goddess that incarnated herself as Amma -- decided to take the form of a 31 year old man.) I myself said nothing to him as he was saying to us all that he hoped we enjoyed our stay when I was before him, but I simply took my blessing, sipped the surprisingly tasty water, and then poured the remaining amount over my head but mostly over my forehead. And that concluded our meeting with Amma the man goddess.

After all was through and the curtains had been drawn, we reunited with the Canadians. They told us Amma had apparently liked us as he had ordered them to give us these thin yellow booklets which were allegedly only very rarely given out. The books contained a reiteration of the quotes which surrounded the complex along with a little more information and some pictures. Thanks, I guess. The Canadians then proceeded to share with us the history and wisdom of Amma while we waited for our books, but we were all interrupted by Rebecca's startled cry of, "Oh my god is than an elephant?!" It was indeed an elephant, the temple elephant apparently, and within a few minutes were we feeding it and receiving its blessing as well -- which consists of it rubbing its trunk all over your head and face. We were honored, and then promptly all offered tea and the Western guest complex.

The complex, or compound perhaps, was a walled, guarded, and very clean dorm area full of various Westerners dressed up in traditional Indian clothes. Although we'd seen many white women in Indian garb as it seems to be a popular thing to do, this was the first time I saw white men in Indian dress as even many Indian men have traded theirs for European clothes and fashion. Perhaps my hardened heart colored my gaze, but I think we all definitely got a weird vibe from the place. Here we met one or two more devotees, who too seemed a little off and not terribly friendly, but spent most of our time with the Canadian physician and a pot of chai tea. The tea was great, but the conversation I felt got a little old after a while. I care only to spend so much of my day discussing the intricacies of what seemed to be a relatively simple theology dependent on the complete suspension of disbelief with regards to the life, times, and teachings of one otherwise ordinary seeming man. The others in our group, probably less scornful and more inquisitive than myself, pressed the conversation further, however, but within another hour or two our tea was gone, dinner was advancing, and we had to return to town. The Canadian gentleman gave us a quick tour of the complex's roof and surrounding area, and we concluded our time with Amma and his devotees.

So what is it that Amma teaches exactly? Well I believe it can be broken down into two basic precepts. (1) God is love, and (2) for a good time do good unto others. Nothing terribly new or unique there. It should be noted that Amma does not demand obedience, allegiance, or really anything from Her followers, but he does charge for services rendered. (A trend I noticed also in the Jalagandeeswarar Temple at the fort in town. It seems indulgence-esque to me, but perhaps I am just ignorant and/or biased.) Apparently a blessing of the sort we received typically runs a couple hundred rupees, and though a trip around the temple is free the exit is heralded by a large donation area fully capable of accepting Visa, Master Card, and American Express. A good deal of this money does go to charity work, or so the devotees would at least claim, and a good many projects in health care, education, occupational training, and environmental repair have been at least partially funded by Amma (from what I can tell his followers often take all of the credit even if they do not provide all of the funds.) So despite his multimillion dollar temple he himself has done good in the world, and this gets me to wondering....

How much is truth worth? I have always believed that "truth," in as much as it can be obtained, is, to be a bit mundane, priceless. Real progress in the world, in affairs with each other, and in life is, I feel, only possible with the constant upholding of truth. Both knowledge and intimacy are dependent on it being sacrosanct. With such in mind inaccuracies, falsehoods, and lies such as Amma's, no matter how well intended or charitable they may be, should always be resisted and exposed for what they are. We do not necessarily have to be aggressive or belligerent about it -- and it is certainly advisable to cognizant of the appropriate time and place for such matters -- but while momentary toleration may at times be prudent ideas that are inherently false should never be accepted as equal with the truth. But then again I am not starving. I am not sick. I am not without shelter, water, or clothes. I do not stand to greatly benefit from the charities of these organizations. Championing truth is easy when it comes cheap, and so I wonder if in other shoes I would care if my caretakers are crazy out of their mind. When people are the world over suffering perhaps it is more important to be kind than correct. For the long term advancement of the world and mankind I am still inclined to disagree, but maybe I am wrong. Maybe India will teach me otherwise.

If, despite all I have said, you too wish to become a devotee of Amma you can find more information here. If you'd like spiritual emancipation with less effort, though, just send me 500 rupees and I'll spend it on something nice. For the world I mean. Something real nice.