President Hinckley goes to India

As members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, we believe in prophets on the earth today. The recent passing of Gordon B. Hinckley, our prophet and president of the church prompted me to to write down the thoughts below:

I've been having various conversation lately with fellow expats and missionaries overwhelmed with India and the task of spreading the Gospel in this land. I will admit to feeling overwhelmed many times myself.

We felt like we were barely getting by last summer when news came that our branch was going to be divided. Just a few months later in November 2007, the New Delhi mission was formed, and about 20% of our branch was split off again into a Noida home group on the other side of the river that falls under the branch but meets separately and requires even more leaders.

I have taken comfort and perspective in the example of our late prophet. I'm sure that many countries can say this, but Indians feel in many ways that he is the father of the Church in India.

President Hinckley first came in December of 1964, at a time when there were no members of the Church in the country.

There was a brother named Paul Thiuthuvodoss in south India who had come across some Church literature more than ten years earlier and had been writing the Brethren desiring baptism. President Hinckley, who was an Apostle at the time, went and visited him to see what should be done.

Hinckley's wrote the following about his visit in his personal journal:

I have been so tired because of little sleep and the heat that I have not felt alert. We returned to the hotel and lay down for an hour and went fast asleep. The rest was most refreshing.

After a light dinner, we got in the cars to travel out into a rural section to attend a meeting. Paul and his associates have five meeting places where they hold outdoor meetings among the poor. This has been an unforgettable experience. We drove about ten miles out of Coimbatore into the rural areas where the dust is thick and people are miserably poor. The men are field hands who earn 30 or 40 cents a day working 12 hours. The women get about 20 cents. There are many children – 11,400,000 born in India each year.

As we came into a little opening were there were a few trees, Paul’s associates were playing the organ and singing and beating a drum. It was just like a Salivation Army meeting. The people began to gather. Some two or three hundred gathered and sat on the ground. They had taken two cots and put rough blankets on them, and we sat on these. A hymn was sung which we did not know. It was sung as the Indians sing with their particular type of musical arrangement. President Quealy then offered prayer and Brother Paul interpreted his prayer. I was then called on to speak, and I did so for a few minutes with Paul interpreting.

Paul then spoke to them in the Tamil language. He was followed by Job, who gave a regular Pentecostal sermon which we did not understand. Some of the old men seated on the ground in front nodded their heads in approval. The congregation was very reverent. These were surely the poor of the earth. They appeared to have little or nothing. As we met with them I thought of Jesus speaking to the multitudes. The benediction was offered by Brother Robert Evans with Paul translating.

We then drove to another meeting in the opposite direction. We were more than an hour late in getting there. As we entered a place through dark, narrow, dirty streets, I saw a sight the like of which I have never seen before. A great crowd of people, perhaps 400 of them, were singing in a compound. They had decorated it with paper streamers. A fluorescent light and a gasoline lantern attracted the bugs. Signs reading “welcome” were seen in two or three places. A picture of John F. Kennedy was nailed to a post and another of Nehru.

When we drove up the people came over and gathered about us till we could scarcely get out of the cars. These were dirty, hungry, poor people, but they had an eagerness in their eyes that was wonderful to behold. Perhaps 200 children sat on the ground before us with their elders behind them. I spoke briefly through an interpreter, Paul spoke, and Job spoke. We had been so late coming that it was now 9:00, and with so many children present we felt that we should be brief. When we left to go, the people again gathered about the car and took our hands.

We returned to the English Pub and had something to eat. My thoughts are greatly troubled over what I have seen. I do not know what we should do. These are earnest people, but they have been schooled in the Pentecostal ways, which are not our ways. Furthermore, the task of working among the poor of India is so great that I do not know where we should start. We certainly need the inspiration of the Lord in whatever action we take here. (qtd. in Palmer, Spencer J. The Church Encounters Asia. Salt Lake City, 1970)

Even a great Apostle and Prophet felt overwhelmed when he came here and said, "I do not know where we should start." Certainly those of us who have come to India have felt this way upon arrival, and all of us, whether we are in India or Indiana, at times are totally and completely overwhelmed by that which stands before us.

How President Hinckley handled the situation is a lesson. He chose not to baptize Brother Thiuthuvodoss at that time:

I earnestly sought the inspiration of the Lord as to whether we should baptize these people....

We then returned to the hotel where I talked with him at length. I told him that I felt he was worthy to be baptized. He has read much of our literature and seems to understand the doctrines of the Church thoroughly, but he knows nothing of procedures. I wondered whether we should baptize him and him alone and not the others, this might have the effect of dividing his group. I told him that I felt inclined to go home and recommend to the Brethren that we permit two missionaries to come here for a period of months and work with him and his associates, training them in the procedures of the Church, so that if they left they could go forward as an organized branch. I think he would be worthy to be ordained an elder after a few months.

He seemed disappointed that we were not inclined to baptize him but said that he felt that this was the wise thing to do and that he would readily accept our judgment. For more than ten years he has wanted to be baptized. We talked at length about the doctrines of the Church, and he seemed to understand them. However, after attending the meetings last night, I have been greatly worried lest they slip into some kind of Pentecostal method of conducting meetings. They need help in the procedures of the Church, and we have felt that we might do a great injustice by baptizing them and leaving them to drift.

I go to sleep somewhat troubled in my mind over not performing the ordinance in his behalf, but fully satisfied that good has been accomplished by our coming here and that the end results will be very much worthwhile and in harmony with the Lord’s will. I would hope that a branch might be established here of people of what we might term the middle class and that as they become strong they can bring others into the Church, including the poor. This we have explained to Brother Paul. This marks the end of our visit. (qtd. in Palmer, Spencer J. The Church Encounters Asia. Salt Lake City, 1970)

When faced with such an overwhelming situation, President Hinckley did not panic and run away. Nor did he jump in and try to do everything at once. He took a wise and measured approach.

And he took action. Brother Paul Thiuthuvodoss was baptized less than one month later by President Quealy (the Asia area mission president).

Missionaries traveled from Hong Kong and taught Paul and a group of investigators. The story of the baptism is told by one of President Quealy’s missionaries Steve Iba. On the day of the baptism before boarding the bus to go to the lake, they offered a prayer:

In the prayer, offered by President Quealy, he asked the Lord that there would be sufficient water for the baptism to take place, which was puzzling to him because he knew there was a large lake earlier identified for the baptisms to take place.

When the bus drove over the hill to the valley of the lake, he was astonished that the lake was completely dry. They wondered what to do. A young boy with a cow came out of the brush. President Quealy had Brother Thiuthuvodoss ask the boy if he knew where there was some water. The boy led the group to a mango orchard with a pool of clear water. They then began to baptize when a man started shouting at them from a hill overlooking the orchard.

Brother Thiuthuvodoss went up and spoke with him. He quieted down and then brother Thiuthuvodoss returned to the pool to be baptized. President Quealy asked him what the problem was with the man. Brother Thiuthuvodoss said that they were on the man’s property and should get off. I then explained to him what we were doing and he realized that it was a holy thing and it would be ok.

The man then explained that normally the water would not be there at that time of the day. He explained that he harnesses up his oxen each day at noon and then pulls the dike on the pond releasing the water for his orchard, but that day, as he was yoking up his oxen, at noon time, one of them bolted and he had been chasing the ox ever since. He further said that he had never had an ox bolt. President Quealy said that it was at noon when he prayed for there to be sufficient water for the baptisms to take place. Truly the Lord is watching over his work as it begins in India. (From the journal of Stephen K. Iba, March 1965, qtd. in Palmer, Spencer J. The Church Encounters Asia. Salt Lake City, 1970)

And so, under President Hinckley's direction, the first member of the Church in this era of the Gospel in India was baptized.

The church has grown steadily here ever since. I look in wonder at what has happened even in the two years since we have come. The two branches and about eight young full-time missionaries when we arrived is now three branches, three home groups, and about 30 missionaries. We have our own misson, with a mission presidency that sits right here in Delhi.

Still, just as when President Hinckley first came, the approach is measured. We still only teach and baptize people who speak sufficient English, which excludes the vast majority of people here. It will be an amazing thing when the gates open for the gospel to be taught in the native languages of India, but the foundation must be there first.

The final time that President Hinckley came was in August of 2005. At that time he expressed his great love for the members:

I first came to this nation 41 years ago when there was not a single member of the Church, and I have been back many times . . .

Coimbatore, Madras, Bombay, and New Delhi, and wherever else in this vast and wonderful nation which is making such tremendous progress at the present time. And a part of that progress is because of the growth of the Church here. Because every time there is an added member of the church, there is a better citizen of the nation of India. Because our people become better people. They become people of greater strength and capacity. They appreciate one another more, they serve one another better. And so every time we bring another convert into the church, we strengthen the nation of which it is a part.

I just want to say to this congregation here that I love you very very much. I am not a citizen of India. I am a citizen of the United States, but I think I have a love for the people of this good land and the people of the world. Every man and woman, every boy and girl, is a child of God. And as such is my brother and she is my sister, and I honor and respect him or her.

You and I are brothers and sisters. We come from different lands, different racial strains, but we are all children of our Heavenly Father in Heaven, and must respect and honor and help one another as we travel through this life together.

Now just in conclusion, as I don’t suppose I will ever come to India again. I’m an old man. 95 years of age. Crazy to go around the world when you’re 95. We’ve been in Vladivostok Russia, we’ve been in Korea, we’ve been in Taiwan, we’ve been in Hong Kong, tonight we are in New Delhi. Tomorrow we're in…let’s see…Kenya. Kenya tomorrow. Then we're in Nigeria, where we’ll dedicate a new temple. Then we’ll be in Rome, then we’ll be in Paris, then we’ll be home if we make it.

Well, let me just say again, how much I appreciate you, how much I love you, how much I honor you, how much I pray for you, how much I respect and honor these wonderful missionaries here, these senior couples, and all those who are engaged in the work of the Lord in this great land.

I must not take more time, some of you have a long ways to go to get home.

God bless you. God bless you my beloved brethren and sisters. May heaven smile upon you. May you have food on your tables, and clothing on your backs, and a shelter over your head, and peace and kindness and love and faith in your hearts... (transcribed from the DVD recording of the conference, August 2005)

The members of the Church here love President Hinckley. For the vast majority of members he is the only prophet that they have ever known.

And for those of us who are here from far away, we take lessons from his example. It is natural to feel overwhelmed, but when that happens we go to the Lord. We can, like President Hinckley, be measured and wise, but move forward with conviction. And most of all "love, respect, and honor" the great people of this sacred land.

For those of you who are interested in more details, I've put up citations, the full text from the journal entries and a more complete transcript of his August 2005 address to the saints of India at this link. A short history of the church in India can be found here.

Pull Your Ears and Squat

While Merinda is out having fun on the beach in New Zealand, it is now up to me and me alone to hold down the fort and tell the things that need to be told.

This morning our night guard knocked on the door. He held his earlobes with his fingers and squatted up and down three times while pleading in broken English, "Sorry sir, sorry. Very very sorry." He then put his hands flat together in a praying motion, bowed, looked at me right in the eyes and said, "Please sir, please...."

I fired him anyway.

So speaking about holding the fort, our house is kind of a little fort. There is a wall with spikes on the top that surrounds our small front yard, a driveway, the garage with the servant's quarters on the top and the main house. Sitting in a chair outside through the freezing cold and burning sun 24 hours a day is a day guard and a night guard.

The guard's duties are the following:

• Open the front gate when anybody leaves. Much of the time they will salute as the car goes by.

• Open the gate when anybody comes. The car will approach the gate and honk. We will hear the pitter-patter of footsteps running if he is far away, the bolt will slide open, and there he is. Since there are cars honking all the time, he has to know the particular honk of our car or he will wear himself out.
  

• Turn on and off the water pumps early in the morning when there is water to be extracted from the city water supply. Since the water only runs a few hours a day and there is no water pressure, it has to be pulled from the system into a big tank under the house in the early morning hours and then a second pump pulls it from there to a smaller tank on the top of the house. The tank used to be black, ensuring that there was nothing but steaming hot water in the summer until we finally paid Margaret the cook's husband to go up there and paint it white.
  

• Turn on and off the generator when the power goes out. He has had to do this manually ever since the automatic switch broke.

• Raise the alarm if there is ever an emergency. Since he has no radio or mobile or access to a telephone of any kind what this means is that he would blow his whistle. We don't know what would happen after that, but I bet it would be interesting. There's a whistle thing here I've never been able to quite figure out. What I do know is that all night long there is a guy riding around the neighborhood on a bike blowing a whistle loudly at regular intervals. My guess is that there is another guy listening and if he doesn't hear the whistle when expected then he would assume his buddy has been captured, and then, I don't know, maybe he blows his whistle, but in a different way that causes all the other guards join in blowing their whistles: louder and louder they would blow, more and more joining the fun, until the bad guys can't stand the noise anymore and run away.

• An unofficial duty is to play with the kids while they are outside. While Graham was learning to walk the guard would follow behind him squatting down with arms outstreached so he never would hit the ground. They kick the ball with them, go get it when it goes over the fence.

They can do other things too. We used to have them grind wheat back before the hand grinder broke. A friend of Merinda's taught her guards how to knit and they sit and knit sweaters for needy people. They won't sweep or clean, that's a caste notch or two down from where they are, but they do watch the sweeper do her thing.

4:30 yesterday morning, the phone rang. It was American Airlines delivering my lost suitcase. They were at the door, but couldn't get in. Somewhat annoyed at the timing, but happy to get it back, I came downstairs wondering why the guard hadn't let me know he was there. There was no guard to be found. I checked around the front, in the servant's bathroom, back where the water pump is, and he was nowhere.

Finally I opened the closed garage door and there on the ground the guard had made a bed. He was fully under the blankets. I stood there right above this, he blissfully unaware of my being there, while I thought about what to do. We've caught guards sleeping before in their chairs next to the gate, but making a bed was going a bit too far.

So I ripped off the blanket from him and shouted, "Hey, wake up and open the gate!!". He quickly stood up and then stared blankly into my eyes for a few seconds while his brain started up, and then sprung into action and ran for the front.

It turns out that pulling your ears while squating up and down is something that teachers make kids do if they've been bad in class. (They also make kids squat, hook their arms through their legs and hold their ears. Try it. It's not easy, I just had it a shot at it and fell over and hurt myself.) This is not something adults typically do, but I guess it's all that he could think of to punish himself for his mistake.

But since he had been caught in his garage bed several times before by Margaret the cook, I decided to fire him anyway.

The first person we ever fired was a little toothless old guy from Nepal who would put his hands together and bow low every time he saw us. He came with the house and didn't speak a word of English. When we moved in, we weren't sure what we were supposed to do with him, he was just staying up in the then-empty servant's quarters. We agonized over this for days and we finally asked the landlord's man what he was there for. We found out that he was just some random guy off the street that he brought in to watch over the house while it was empty and that if we could use him that would be great, but if not just to send him out.

"Just send him out?", we thought. What will he do? Where will he sleep? Will he starve?

But we didn't know what else to do and so we gave him some extra money and sent him out. He didn't seem angry. For a long time after that we saw him every day, brewing and selling tea on a little patch of ground just in front of the gate which was probably what he was doing before he stayed at our house. Seeing him somehow helped us feel a little better, like he was still alive and OK, until eventually we didn't see him anymore.

Since then, I've fired lots of people. I fired a driver for peeking at the maid while she was showering. I fired another one for selling fuel out of the gas tank.

I fired the guard in the picture on the right because he was too chummy with the people outside and let a really creepy one into the house once when the sewer backed up.

They say that you learn a lot about yourself from living in India, and you don't always like what you find out.

There are a things that really bother me about the firing of this latest one. One is how easy it was for me to do. Each time I send somebody out, I think less and less of it. But much, much worse is this:

He worked for us for months. Opening the gate, shutting the gate, turning on the water pump, off the water pump, on the generator, off the generator, playing kickball with the kids, fetching the balls from over the fence, day in and day out.

I didn't know what his name was.

I couldn't even tell him by his own name to leave my house.

When I think of why we are staying in India, one reason is that I want to conquer this cynicism, and learn to hurt for these folks again, even if firing them sometimes is the right thing to do. I look at the compassionate gaze in the eyes of our resident cousins, the Pulsiphers, and think about how I used to be like that. People take advantage of that look, but does that matter?

Because I just know that in the next life I will be standing in front of some of these good people. I'll pull my ears, squat, and have to say "Very sorry, very very sorry, please..."

Who Are You Guys?

Hello people out there reading our blog. Recently we've been using statcounter.com to track how many people are reading our blog. There's a lot of you! The statcounter also tracks other details like location and referring page. The odd thing is that some of you are reading from places where I don't think I know anybody, like Moscow and Helsinki and Poland and Alabama. And there's links to our blog from sites I didn't even know existed.

Frankly, it makes me feel a bit creepy and nervous to post things lately because I'm not sure who's reading now. I don't think I'm ready to make the blog private just yet--I like sharing it with people who are interested. But knowing how many people are anonymously reading makes me feel oddly disconnected from human connections and reality. Feels kinda like when I thought it would be fun to get up with Graham in my arms and run that silly race with the Indian flag at the India-Pakistan border ceremony. And it was fun . . . until I sat down and realized that thousands of people had watched me and laughed at me and wanted their picture taken with me later. And then I watched the video Rich took of me, and was totally mortified. Okay, so blogging isn't quite that mortifying, but sort of. It's just that when I first started blogging I knew just my family and a handful of friends were reading, and that was fine. Now that it appears to be a boatload of strangers, I'm not so sure about it anymore.

Anyway, I'm on a new crusade myself to leave more comments when I read people's blogs so they know I'm there and so I make more personal connections. I invite ya'll to do the same. I'd love to know who you are and what you think of our blog. And that way if we do decide to make it private, we can be sure to invite you.

Currently the boys and I are in New Zealand with Gurney grandparents soaking up the sand and the sun outside their door. Heavenly. Would be perfect if Rich were here with us. But that darn job that makes this all possible unfortunately requires him to actually work every day! I'm grateful for his hard work.

Today we went to a beautiful and wild surfer beach west of Hamilton called "Whale Beach" where the waves were giant and the black sand like quicksand. Isaac and Russell finally caught onto the wonder of the waves (Graham was hooked from the start) and were giddy with the water knocking them over. We hadn't planned to get in the water because we were in skirts and pants from the temple (that didn't happen . . . it was closed). But before we knew it, the ocean had other plans, and we were all wet and had to ride home two hours in our underwear! The McDonald's drive-thru people are probably still laughing!

A Survey of Indian Engineering College Students Desk Grafitti

Dad just took a quick trip to BITS, Pilani, a college campus in the wilderness of Rajastan, to do some recruiting. After barreling through five hours of thick fog in the dark through the bumpy country roads and a few hours sleep at the local guest house we arrived at the campus.


I often think about how lucky I am not to have had to fight my way through the tough school and college entrance process that these good people have to do. Now after seeing the job selection process for these "freshers" I think about how lucky I am not to have to had do that either.

After putting on a short PowerPoint presentation about our company (including data about the starting salary) we give an hour and a half written exam in a FREEZING cold room:


About half of these students were sitting for my software exam, out of which the top three or four were to be selected for a face-to-face interview. While wondering around waiting for the students to finished, I noticed the grafitti on the desks.

Now when we think of grafitti back home, the themes I can remember typically run like this:

• Somebody's name
• Somebody's name with their girlfriend.
• Gang-related scribbling
• Doodles
• Unspeakable obscenities

So to further probe the psyche of this young and vibrant country, here are some examples of Indian College Student desk grafitti from with some accompanying thoughts. I put these in order of the amount of each type that I saw:

1. Technical Doodlings

Lots of Matmatical Formulas

Some C code

An electrical circuit

I asked some students what this was all about. Was this a way to cheat on exams if you happened to get the right desk on test day? It didn't seem like that kind of scribbling and the students said that your chances of writing down the exact right problem were not that high anyway.

What they said was that on a lot of their tests, they are not given any scratch paper and they end up working things out directly on the wood of the desk instead.

Lesson: Even in the face of scarcity, these students are able to make do...or they cheat a lot in obvious ways.

2. Multinational Company Names

Microsoft- Mahish Babu

Wipro happened here

Preeti, Priya Dipu, Rimpy, Rakhi : Got ekas (first) job offer: Infosys, ..., Scomain

Lesson: This was really interesting. These students have beaten all odds, one out of thousands, working harder than you or I can ever imagine to get into a place at a good school like this one. The ultimate pinicle of their success will be landing a good job at a multinational company, making a starting salary of ten to twelve thousand a year, living the good life.

When sitting in a boring class they dream of days ahead, doodling on their desks the names of these companies like we would doodle the name of a high school girlfriend, lovingly circling the name, filling it in: Wipro...Microsoft...Oracle... *sigh*

3. Inspirational

Information Systems Association Prestya - Where Excellence is the Criterion!!!

Will Miss U BITS Pilani

Dare to dream - Care to achieve

Paul Priya Aarthi - Friends Forever

Lesson: One thing we love about India is how unabashadly sentimental it is. It's a very nice break from all the cynicism and sarcasm that is around these days. The actors in the movies still burst into song, run through the fields and hug trees. And why not? Dare to dream! Care to achieve!

3. Doodles

RIP: In memory of all the people who have died of boredom in this class.

The swastika here is a Hindu symbol of God (not a Nazi thing)

Lesson: In this regard, we are all the same. When class is boring, might as well draw a picture. When the exam is tough, calling on the powers of heaven by drawing some religious symbol may be your only hope!

4. Love

Some like one
Some like two
I like one
That are you
Ninnu aa lahi hai (Ninnu is coming!) - Chubham
Where are you my sweet?

Lesson: Out of the hundreds of desks I looked at, this was the only love note that was to an actual person instead of a multinational company. Clearly that sort of thing is not really on these students' minds, or at least it is buried down deep. Maybe the prospect for many of an arranged marriage when they turn 27 is enough. This may be more representative of the typical attitude:

Girls stay away from them