The Passion Narratives

A message from a fellow-scholastic of mine at De Nobili College:

Dear Friends,

From the 22nd to the 28th of March 2010, I am giving a course of the "Passion Narratives" as found in the four Gospels to a group of lay people at St. Britto's High School, Mapusa. It is given in the hope that we can bridge the gap between Catholic ignorance of the Bible and the lastest scholarly research being done in this field. But more than that, it’s purpose is pastoral, in offering fresh insights into the life of Jesus of Nazareth so as to increase our faith and help us share in the eternal life which he promised. The timing is scheduled that this course may be an appropriate preparation for the Holy Week and the sacred Tridum.

I am aware that much of this material will also be interesting to people who have asked such difficult questions about the bible, and have never got any answers. It is for this reason, that to make it available to a much wider audience, I am putting the lectures up on the net, as we go on during this course in this week, so that people from all parts of the world who can't be physically present - can also benefit from the lectures on the "passion narratives" of Jesus.

The lectures are available at http://passionnarratives.wordpress.com

Feel free to pass this message around to all your contact, whoever may be interested!

Thanks,

Richard D'Souza SJ

End of Term Thanksgiving

It's over! (Well, almost... I still have one paper on Existentialism to submit, but otherwise it's over.) I had 13 credits this term (which works out to about 65 hours of lectures and coursework a week) so it's been very, very hectic.

Just some of the things I've really been grateful for this term:

• The support and care of my Jesuit brothers
• The deep and moving conversations I've had with many people - Jesuits and non-Jesuits, consecrated and lay
• Daily sports
• Phenomenology, existentialism and Indian philosophy

The "Slum Dwellers"

We've had monsoon-like rains on campus the last two days because of Cyclone Phyan (thankfully, it looks like it's going to die out). I always hope that loss of life and property will be minimal when a phenomenon like this strikes, but that is rarely the case. For many poor families along India's west coast, Phyan was, at best, a frightening event accompanied by a few sleepless nights and loss of income. At worst, it was a faceless grim reaper that took away loved ones. For us here on the JDV campus, it meant clothes that wouldn't dry, regular black-outs, no outdoor games and carefully-tended gardens ruined (the marigolds, in particular, falling victim to un-aesthetically-minded winds).

But not all JDV students (even Jesuit ones) live on campus. Every year, a few groups of Jesuit scholastics move out of their relatively comfortable (if Spartan) rooms at DNC between July and December to live among the poor and homeless people of Pune in the slums. Each 'slum community' consists of 3-5 scholastics; they commute in for classes and are expected to be self-sufficient. Thus, most such communities supplement their scholastic allowance with income from odd jobs, tutoring kids etc. My 'living group' (more about these in a subsequent post) has a member living in such a slum community. We went out to visit them on Tuesday (with Phyan's van – pardon the rhyme – doing its best to keep us from moving outside) in the pouring rain. There are three scholastics in this particular group; they live in a small single-room house about 4km from campus in the midst of a crowded settlement. I was certainly glad to be inside, dry and with a warm cup of tea in my hand by the time we got there – even if about a dozen of us were crammed into the room! I was very impressed by their hospitality, edified by their witness and reminded again that the Jesuit is called to live in solidarity with the poor, the dispossessed, the voiceless, the weak, and the helpless.

Because of the swine flu pandemic, this year’s groups are being recalled a month early. It was a real privilege to be able to visit the group we did before they came back (they’re back at DNC now).

Pretty Woman

Image: Mid-day

They belong to “the oldest profession in the world”. They exist, and have existed, in every culture and civilisation. They are glorified in art, fiction and films from around the world (including the Hollywood film that gives this post its title). They are vilified in social convention, ignored in polite conversation, talked about passionately at social justice conventions. They were once called ‘prostitutes’ (or, less politely, ‘whores’), also ‘courtesans’, ‘call girls’ and even ‘ladies of the night’; now they’re referred to (by the government, press and NGOs) as ‘commercial sex workers’. But what and who are they? Are they so much prostitutes as being-prostituteds? Are they more than conduits for erotic energy and frustration?

As part of our formation, we are asked to commit some time (usually around 3 hours a week, including commute, for DNC scholastics) to apostolic work. Some scholastics go to nearby parishes to help out with catechetics or parish home visiting; some others organise events for children of construction works; yet others work with young adults in Pune as part of a group called Searching and Service in Unity (SSU), founded by our (philosophers’) superior, Fr. Cyril Debruslais SJ. A few weeks back one of my fellow-philosophers asked me to consider teaching English and communication skills to the volunteers and social workers at Saheli (Hindi: “friend”), a CBO (community-based organisation) that works with commercial sex workers at Budhwar Peth, a residential locality of Pune that houses a famous Ganesha temple, a bustling shopping district and one of the largest organised brothels in India (if not the world). Saheli offers these women (and men – or more precisely, trans-genders) emotional support, HIV/AIDS prevention information, condoms, emergency food and medicines, crèche services for their children etc.

Yesterday afternoon, four DNC scholastics (the above-mentioned scholastic, the coordinator of JDV’s social action group, another fellow-philosopher and I) took the bus from Ramwadi to Manapā, from which Budhwar Peth is a short walk. Through the ride in the Indian afternoon sun I wondered what I could (or would) say if I were to enter into conversation with a prostituted woman. That didn’t happen yesterday; it will have to wait for another day. We visited the offices of Saheli and spoke to some of the workers there. This November’s a busy month as they’ve just received some funding and need to prepare the necessary reports etc. But yes, they would very much like some English classes. Although most of them have a Master’s in Social Work (MSW), they are not confident enough when speaking, especially, to foreign donors and agencies.

Having fixed a mutually convenient time for these classes (mine is on Saturday afternoons), we visited the crèche. Most of the children (1-5 years) were asleep; a few were having a late lunch. I was told later that most of these children will be moved to orphanages around and just outside Pune once they’re older – Budhwar Peth is not a safe or suitable place for them to grow up in.

The four of us then took the opportunity to walk around the main brothel area. Since it was mid-afternoon, the streets were relatively quiet and we were able to move without much difficulty (apparently the streets get so busy in the evenings it’s difficult for even small groups to stay together). We did, however, run the risk of being hustled for quick “business” during the quiet hour; so we had to stay together. The first thing we saw as we arrived were the women themselves, sitting on plastic chairs on the pavement or standing in the shade just inside the houses on either side, heavily made up and (usually) in colourful sleeveless tops or blouses. We walked up one of the numerous blocks of flats that constitute the brothel. Almost all the flats were open, the wares inside hidden only (and only sometimes) by a curtain half-drawn. Elderly woman (usually ex-prostitutes themselves) sat outside most flats, beckoning the numerous men who walked by to come in and see. Inside each single-bedroom flat were about 8-12 women, awaiting customers, sitting around, or chatting. Perhaps another day I might have the courage to go in and have a chat, yesterday I didn’t. Indeed, I could see that many of them were having late lunches, so I felt embarrassed at being an intrusion. I am told over 5,000 sex workers (not including the men / trans-genders) live and work in the area.

We only visited one floor yesterday. One floor is education, any more voyeurism, I felt. At the end of the street was the main police station of the area. A few police constables milled around in the late afternoon sun. Apparently, prostitution was “legalised” in Budhwar Peth some years back. I think this means the police made an unofficial policy decision to look the other way, allowing social organisations like Saheli to come in and work more effectively with the sex workers. I was reminded of Season 2 of the hit US series, The Wire, where drug trade is unofficially “legalised” in a fictional street of Baltimore, nicknamed “Amsterdam”. If it cannot be stopped, it can at least be controlled and overseen.

On our way back to the bus station, we also visited one of the side-streets where the male (trans-gender) prostituteds work. They have a reputation for being more aggressive (a few stood guard at the top of the street impolitely dissuading casual gawkers from going any further). We moved on and got the bus back to DNC.

Ordo

Having slowly settled into a rhythm of phenomenology and Indian philosophy, community prayer and table-tennis here at DNC, I thought it was time to describe a typical DNC day.

The Beadle (a scholastic appointed by the rector to carry out certain official tasks, organise events and people etc.) rings the morning bell at 5:30am. We have time for about 45 minutes of personal prayer before the bell for Holy Mass is rung at 6:35 (at DNC, you never have to worry about the time since the bell always reminds you!) Mass itself is at 6:40, followed by breakfast. Some scholastics may have early classes at JDV (the academic institute proper) at 8:20; otherwise the first lecture is normally at 9:10. Lectures are 45 minutes long, with a 5-minute break between classes. Coffee break's at 10:45 and lectures resume at 11:10. Then it's the lunch examen at 12:45pm and lunch proper at 1:00. We have an hour of silence / study-time between 2:00 and 3:00 before the afternoon lecture (depending on the optional course chosen). Tea and games from 4:00 to 5:30 and then silence / study-time again from 6:00 to 7:45. Then it's evening community or small-group prayer, followed by supper at 8:00 and recreation. By 9:30pm we're expected to be back in our rooms studying, reading, praying etc.

Variations on the ordo will have to wait for another post!

Our Brother Francis

(As promised, my reflection on the Goa trip follows.)

Goa: land of sun, beaches, verdant woods, parties. And, as one brother scholastic pointed out, the second most-active hotspot for child prostitution in the world (after Thailand). For Jesuits, Goa is also the birthplace of the Indian mission (now, with nearly one in four Jesuits worldwide, the Jesuit Conference of South Asia) and the resting place of one of the founders of the Society of Jesus – St. Francis Xavier SJ. Or, as our rector calls him, “our [elder] brother Francis”.

Every year, the second-year Jesuit philosophers at De Nobili College, Pune make a pilgrimage to Goa during the Deepavali (Diwali) term break in October. I was kindly invited to join this year’s expedition by our rector. This was my first time in Goa but, after a rough 12-hour overnight bus journey, I would rather have been at home in bed!

The first day, we visited the relics of our brother Francis at the Bom Jesus church in Old Goa. As a trans-continental Jesuit, I have drawn much inspiration from Francis. We were especially privileged to have a mass in the enclosure with the relics, presided over by the rector of the Jesuit community there. Many years ago, I blogged in defence of Francis’s legacy in India. Now, in the presence of the great missionary himself, I prayed for myself, the Society of Jesus and especially for the Church in Europe, birthplace of Francis and the Jesuits. Walking around Old Goa and seeing the remains of churches and monasteries built there by the Jesuits and Augustinians was a moving experience. It’s also interesting to note, from a European perspective, how orders transposed and adapted European architectural conventions in a very different land: the ruins of the magnificent St. Augustine’s monastery being the case in point.

After visiting a few more places in Panjim (capital of Goa), we retired to our base for the trip – the guest house of the Jesuit retreat house on Baga beach. It was wonderfully relaxing to be in a house right on the beach. And, of course, I was ready for bed!

The second day was a designated “rest day”; I had the chance to dip in the Indian Ocean (since it’s not as cold as the Irish Sea, I didn’t have to get out within 15 minutes!) and visit the local shops. The third day we visited the Jesuit tertianship at Raia and also the oldest church in Goa, built by the Jesuits. This is also where the Goan Jesuit martyrs were first buried. In my noviceship, I had made a presentation on the Jesuit mission to the Mughal court; Bl. Rudolf Acquaviva and the other Goan martyrs were an important part of the story.

Then another 12-hour bus ride (this time, thankfully, less bumpy!) back to Pune and rest!

Going to Goa

After the trip with the first-years, now it's time for a slightly different trip with the second-year philos (philosophy scholastics) from DNC. We're going to Goa in a few minutes and hope to catch up with our brother in the Society, St. Francis Xavier.

Update (25/10/09): Just got back yesterday morning after a 24-hour period when we spent nearly 18 hours on the bus; so I've been recovering ever since! A report and photos of the Goa trip will have to wait till Thursday or so. First, we scholastics of DNC have a Triduum (Lat. "Three days"; a three-day Ignatian silent retreat) after which we will renew our perpetual vows of poverty, chastity and obedience in the Society of Jesus. I've only seen the renewal of vows once before (at the British Province Meeting earlier this year in Swanwick) and it was a very moving experience. Yes, it is a private affair (Jesuits and close associates only, I'm afraid!), but it isn't hard to imagine the emotional force of two hundred young men jointly re-committing themselves to total dedication and self-giving in the service of the Lord. Pray for me!

The Cave Temples (Part 2)

The second day of the Ajantha-Ellora trip was a much more hectic affair. Our first port of call was the fort at Daulatabad. The fort itself is fairly impressive and more or less impregnable in medieval times. Nevertheless, I find myself a little weary when it comes to fortresses – once you've seen one impressive fort you've pretty much seen them all (Tower of London, Lal Qila / Red Fort etc.) unless there is some special personal reason why a particular fort is of significance (e.g. the Tower of London was more a personal pilgrimage because of the many Jesuits interned there and subsequently martyred). Most of the scholastics decided to climb the 750-odd steps to get to the top of the fort; I decided to conserve my energy for the caves of Ellora which, if they were half as impressive as Ajantha the previous day, should not be missed because I had too little energy. Instead, I had the opportunity to wander around the grounds and meet our primate cousins!

Then the cave temples at Ellora. Like those at Ajantha, the Ellora temples, too, were carved out of solid rock and entire temples are, effectively, a single block of stone. In fact, the Kailasha temple (Temple N.16) at Ellora is the biggest monolith in the world. However, where Ajantha was entirely Buddhist, Ellora has Buddhist, Hindu and even Jain temples. The Ellora temples are spread out over a much larger area and the terrain is not as precarious. There are also more caves than at Ajantha ("cave" is a misnomer for these structures since, as one guide pointed out, they were not constructed from existing natural caves but were created artificially). While the artwork at Ellora was not as impressive as those at Ajantha (very little evidence of murals have survived and the sculptures are not as intricate), the engineering is most certainly impressive. When I saw two- and three-storey temples carved out of the rock-face I had to ask, how on earth did they do it? The sheer imagination, planning and coordination, the determination and skill of execution needed makes my head swim. For instance, did they start at the top and build their way down? The interior spaces are also much larger; where each Ajantha temple might accommodate on average 200 devotees, you could fit over 1,000 into Ellora's multi-storeyed monoliths.

As at Ajantha, I tried to compose the space as it must've been in the 7th-8th century AD when devotees must've streamed here in the thousands from all over the region. Torches or, perhaps, oil lamps must've lit the corridors and prayer halls. The Ellora temples seemed to be younger by a few centuries than their Ajantha counterparts. Artistically, one can also see greater evidence of Hindu-Buddhist hybrid styles at Ellora. In the Dashavathara temple (N.15), there seemed to be evidence that the Buddha was already being venerated by Hindus as one of the dash-avathar (lit. "Ten incarnations" or "ten descents"): ten instances when Lord Vishnu, one of Hinduism's chief deities, took human/corporeal form to combat injustice on earth (the two most famous of these avathars are Lord Rama and Lord Krishna). At the Kailasha temple mentioned earlier (pictured right), there were so many people I thought the temple was still used as a place of worship! As with the previous day, I was conscious of being on holy ground, sites sanctified by the devotion and piety of thousands of seekers of the divine, the transcendent ground-of-being.

My one regret was that our programme did not allow a whole day at Ellora. We only had a couple of hours before we had to get moving; I only got to Cave Temple No. 16 (of over 30!) in that time. I certainly hope I'll get the opportunity to go back some day and, this time, I hope I can convince an expert on Indian temples and religions to give me a running commentary!

On the way back, we stopped at the tomb of Aurangzeb, the last great Mughal emperor. Aurangzeb was undoubtedly a man of great personal piety; he was assiduous in his study of the Qur'an and practised great austerity of life. When he died, he left strict instructions that he be buried in a simple tomb with no great edifice or gardens to commemorate him. Aurangzeb was also one of the most religiously fanatical of India's Muslim leaders and left behind him a legacy of religious oppression of Hindus and Sikhs that endures in common memory to this day. It was an interesting experience visiting his tomb and reflecting on the tension between his apparent personal holiness and public cruelty. Indeed, one is left reflecting on the relationship between religious absolutes and violence. Does all dogma lead, eventually, to violence? How and should religious truth be asserted?

We eventually got back to Pune around 11pm after having supper at a road-side dhaaba (a working-class eatery by the highway that acts as a rest stop, mainly for all-night truckers).

The Cave Temples (Part 1)

The first semester here at DNC ended just last Friday with the end of semester examinations. We now have a two-week break before the new semester begins. It is customary for the philosophers (philosophy scholastics) to go for a sight-seeing trip to either the Ajantha/Ellora caves or Goa (first and second-years respectively) during this period; theologians (theology scholastics) are free to join either group. All scholastics will have a 'Triduum' (three-day silent retreat) next week before we renew our vows in a special mass. (Left: the first-year philosophers of DNC - I'm second from right, top row)

The first-year philosophers didn't hang around very long after the end of exams; the Ajantha/Ellora trip began at midnight on Friday itself! First, there was a six-hour bus ride to Aurangabad (named after Aurangzeb, the last great Mughal emperor – more about him in Part 2), where we had been provided accommodation in the assembly hall of the high school run by the Holy Cross sisters. There was just enough time to wash up before we had Mass (pictured right) in the hall. The young sacristan had forgotten to bring a Bible along for the Mass readings, so my pocket copy of fellow-British Province Jesuit Fr. Nick King's translation had to come to the rescue. Although we didn't have hymn-books, I was very impressed by how well the scholastics sang many well-known English hymns (“As the deer pants”, “Take our bread” and so on) from memory; many of them have only learned English within the last 7-8 years since joining the Jesuits!

Breakfast, then another three-hour ride to our first major stop – the cave temples of Ajantha. The caves were hewn out of solid rock-face in a beautiful valley, where the river makes a U bend, nearly two-thousand years ago. In fact, the oldest cave temples here date back to the 2nd century BC. You cannot help but be impressed at the manner in which rock-cutters and sculptors must've worked decades in those times, hundreds of feet above the ground. But that isn't all, the craftsmanship and artistry of Ajantha can be admired as masterpieces in their own right. Perhaps it is the combination of cool breeze and lack of sunlight, but many of the cave paintings still retain their colour and lustre. And the brush work is so fine I needed to borrow a pair of binoculars at times to see the detail!

Like the vast majority of tourists there I was busy admiring the artwork when a Buddhist family from Bhutan (probably) came in and bowed to the massive figures of the Buddha. I was suddenly embarrassed to realise that I was standing on holy ground. This might be a cultural trip for me; for some it's a pilgrimage. How many times have I bemoaned the apparent lack of reverence of tourists in cathedrals in England? Who has the greater moral claim over historical sites of religious significance – governments representing the cultural interests of the general population, or adherents of those faiths? Personally, I have come to believe the true beauty or impact of a religious site can only be experienced when it is used in religious worship; it is then that dead hallways and sculptures come alive as spiritual spaces and icons. Wandering the caves of Ajantha, I tried to compose the scene as it must've looked like 15 centuries ago when Buddhism was at its peak in India; as thousands of pilgrims flocked to worship and pray even as construction work proceeded on new temples; as Buddhist monks spent their days meditating in Spartan cells in the caves; as the cave walls glittered with the brilliance of the latest techniques in mural painting and sculpture.

After lunch, we returned to Aurangabad, stopping on the way to enjoy two more sites – Bibi ka Maqbara (literally, “The Tomb of the Wife”; a scaled-down replica of the Taj Mahal built as a tomb for a local nobleman's wife) and the Panchakki (an aqueduct / water-mill system that is a fine feat of medieval engineering). Then supper, before retiring to bed after a very long and tiring, though illuminating, day.

DNC: First Impressions

I arrive at DNC before dawn after a 30-hour train ride from Ernakulam (Kerala), a 1,400km journey. It is hard to make out anything beyond the silhouettes of trees on either side of the drive up to the house (and it's impossible at that hour and that state of wakefulness to accurately judge even the length of the drive!) and a dark, forbidding house that stretches away into the shadows on either side. Once inside, the corridors felt labyrinthine. I am shown the philosophers' chapel on the way to my room. Mass is in just half an hour, so I make my way there in the dark.

A single incandescent bulb (which may or may not pass current EU regulations) is lit in the chapel. A silent scholastic starts preparing the altar for Mass. Other silhouettes meditate silently seated on the floor in the lotus position. I have brought my copy of Morning & Evening Prayer (Collins: London, 1976) with me, but it's too dark to read. I take up a position off to the side of the chapel. Then the scholastics (both philosophers and theologians – since this is exam/holiday time) start streaming in. Communion hosts are dropped into a special paten of traditional Indian design for the offertory. Hymn books are passed out. At 7:40am, the Mass begins.

I remember reading somewhere that over 20% of the Indian population speaks English. At over 200 million people, that makes India second only to the United States as the largest English-speaking nation in the world. At DNC, the medium of communication is usually English (except when scholastics/priests meet in province groups.) The daily Mass, too, is in English. But it's Indian English – English in a distinctively Indian lilt and rhythm, idiom and connotation.

Hans-Georg Gadamer highlighted the importance of linguistic/cultural tradition in understanding and interpretation. Given the importance of philosophical hermeneutics at JDV, it's not surprising that the liturgy and normative liturgical spaces at DNC have been interpreted with great intelligence and sensitivity within an apparent pan-Indian tradition. A larger-than-life painting of the Risen Jesus in the lotus position under the wisdom tree adorns the sanctuary wall of the chapel. The readings are read from a pedestal similar to the ones used to support the holy books of other faiths. The altar is a low table behind which the priest-celebrant sits on the floor. I may yet reflect more on this as the days and weeks pass.

After Mass, a hurried breakfast in a great hall with the sounds of over 100 young philosophers trying to swallow down pancakes with coconut chutney, have a pleasant chat and revise their points for the exams – all at the same time.

I'm tired, so I return to my room for a nap.