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SKETCH IX
Heathenism As I Have Known It

"If thou forbear to deliver them that are drawn unto death, and those that are ready to be slain; if thou sayest, Behold we knew it not; doth not he that pondereth the heart consider it? And he that keepeth thy soul, doth not he know it? And shall not he render to every man according to his works?" (Prov. 24:11, 12.)

"If you can get our church people to really believe the heathen NEED the Gospel, you will have gone a long way to bring about the desired attitude towards Foreign Missions." So said a prominent Foreign Mission Secretary to the writer. Another Foreign Mission Secretary, who had spent many years on the Foreign Field as a missionary, suggested the subject for this Sketch, saying, "Draw it plain, for they need to know."

The subject is not a pleasant one; draw the picture of heathenism as you will, it can be only dark and repelling; neither dare one write all one knows…

1. – HEATHEN VERSUS CHRISTIAN WORSHIP

Missionaries and converts were gathered in full force for their annual evangelistic campaign at one of the largest, most important centers of heathen worship in China – the Hsun-Hsien Fair or Festival. Inclement weather had somewhat delayed the influx of pilgrims. It was suggested that my husband and I take advantage of this fact to make a long planned visit to the temple of the goddess Lao Nai Nai, (Old Grandmother) who drew to her shrine every year vast crowds of men and women of every class. (It is estimated that during the ten days of the winter festival alone, over a million pilgrims kneel before this image.)

We started quite early one morning hoping thereby to escape any possibility of great crowds. As we ascended the hill on which the temple stood, the road was lined on either side with booths and mat stalls where commodities such as pilgrims required, were sold. There were paper babies, made of brilliant colored paper on cornstalk frames. (The goddess was believed to have power to bestow living children in return for the paper offerings.) There were paper horses, and women and young girls, made to look very life-like, all of which were supposed to turn into the real kind for the use of the spirits beyond. Dice and gambling cards were much in evidence; also peep shows, which we were told were of the most obscene kind.

By the time we had reached the main entrance to the temple my courage had begun to fail, and gladly would I have backed out, but my husband felt we must go on. Passing through the great gates we entered a large court, on either side of which were crowds of men and women, some at tables, some seated on the ground, all feasting or gambling. In and out among these, peddlers passed calling loudly their wares. Utter confusion prevailed, but we had no difficulty in getting through to the court beyond; here, however, we found the crowd increasingly great. A large iron caldron resting on a pedestal stood in the center of the court surrounded by several men stripped to the waist, these were dancing and shouting as they stirred the fire in the caldron with iron sticks, the fire being fed by the paper offerings of the pilgrims. The men's faces and bodies were blackened by the paper ashes. The whole scene was most gruesome and reminded one of Dante's "Inferno."

The men, catching sight of us, demanded fiercely our paper offerings; one of them going so far as to seize me by the arm. I shrank in terror behind my husband, who urged me not to show fear, but to keep moving on; to go back now was impossible, for the whole crowd was moving on towards the right hand flight of steps leading up to the goddess' temple. On reaching these steps there was a pause and then a sudden rush, strain, and crush, when I found myself landed at the top of the steps, and my husband pushing me out of the crowd into a ledge of the balcony. Here we stood apart, almost hidden from the crowd.

What a sight the courts below presented! The crowds, seethed and crushed; hundreds of explosives seemed to be fired every moment; the noise and confusion was indescribable. As we watched there were some things that made one's heart ache. Heathenism seemed stamped upon most of the faces. Old men and women could be seen helped along by younger ones. Some of these must have been well on to eighty; some were so frail and old as to be almost carried. We knew that these were old grandfathers or grandmothers being taken to the goddess' shrine to ask for a grandson.

As I turned from the sight, sick at heart, and closed my eyes for a moment, I seemed to forget my surroundings and before me rose a vivid scene in the dear homeland. I seemed to be once more in the old seat in Knox Church, Toronto. Our beloved, white-haired pastor, Dr. Parsons stood at the Communion Table. And I could hear him say, "That I might know Him, and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings." The quietness, the reverential worship, the solemnity of the whole scene seemed as real as if I were there. But oh, the contrast as I opened my eyes on the scene before us! That was Christian —this heathen worship!

Taking advantage of a lull in the crowd, we entered the temple. On one side a group of Buddhist priests at a table were counting the money offerings. In the center was the shrine of the goddess, the image itself being far back almost out of sight. Immediately in front of the image a brass ring was suspended. A railing kept the pilgrims from getting too near, and as they knelt at this rail they threw their offerings through this ring. If the cash or coppers passed safely through the ring their petitions were sure to be granted! This, of course, encouraged many trys. It is said many millions of cash are thus offered year by year. The Buddhist priests use this money largely in gambling, drunkeness, and evil living.

We had seen enough. Gradually we made our way out by a back gate through the kindness of a friendly Chinese. We passed a small side shrine just behind the goddess' temple. Looking inside I noticed what seemed like a bundle of filthy rags, but seeing it move, I looked closer and found beneath a beggar – dying of starvation. From a near by eating house we procured a bowl of hot soup, but the poor creature was too far gone for help. There at the very foot of the heathen goddess the man died, with multitudes of her devotees passing him by without a thought of pity or sense of responsibility towards a fellow being. As soon as his last breath would be drawn, yes, and knowing what I do of heathenism, I dare say, even before, he would be taken out, thrown into a hole and barely covered; while his poor beggar rags would be claimed by other beggars who perhaps before long, came to share the same fate. That is heathenism!

II. – FACTS

"The tender mercies of the heathen are cruel."

Some years ago my husband and I went to a certain out-station where a camp of soldiers was stationed. A day or two before we arrived a man had killed one of the soldiers in a fight. The man escaped, but was later caught. (The utter injustice and often cruel oppression of the soldiers towards the people, lead us to believe quite possible, even probable, the man had right on his side.) He was taken before the military chief who said, "Since the man has killed one of yourselves you can do as you like with him."

For three days, while a platform was being erected, the poor creature was tortured by the soldiers with the most unspeakable refinement of cruelty. The platform on which he was to be executed was erected quite close to where we lived. The man was put on this high platform and in the presence of a great multitude of men, women, and children was cruelly done to death. We could hear the shouts of the people as they witnessed fresh signs of suffering. The awful details of this execution cannot be put on paper. That evening I called our chief Evangelist in and said, "Please write out as full a description of what has taken place as possible, for I wish to send it to the press with an appeal against such barbarism." And this was his reply,

"But what is the use, Teacher Mother? This is not an isolated case. It is done by the soldiers all over China, under like circumstances!"

Much more could be said on this phase of heathenism-cruelty. But we do not wish to dwell longer than necessary on any one part of this dark picture. But as I have studied the fruits of heathenism during these years of closest contact with a heathen people I have come to feel that this heartlessness and lack of pity is one of the most prominent features of heathenism.

One outstanding illustration of this. Li Shan Pao was the son of one of our Evangelists; he was a young lad of promise and we had been helping him through the High School at Wei Hwei Fu. One day he and some other lads were by the river near the school. Li Shan Pao undressed and went in for a swim, though the others tried to dissuade him, for the weather was still cold. He swam across the river and about half way back, when he seemed to get into difficulties. The other lads on the shore called frantically to a passing boat for assistance. The men on this boat by just putting out an oar, or stretching out a helping hand, could have saved the boy, but though the lads on shore kept offering more and more money the only answer they received was, "It's not enough!" Then over the drowning boy they went without an effort to save him! When the missionaries came on the scene and drew the boy out, he was quite beyond help. That is Heathenism. But terrible as the guilt of these men may seem to us, yet are they not more guilty who deliberately close their eyes to their personal responsibility towards the dying souls of their fellowmen, whether at Home or on the Foreign Field?

The practice of Infanticide, which is one of the most terrible fruits of heathenism, is far more common than many believe. For several years I scarcely knew of its existence till my work began to take me out among the people. The three cases which I shall confine myself to in this Sketch, came to my notice within a short time of each other.

When preaching in a district among the hills Northwest of Changte, my husband, through what seemed a mere accident, found out that the custom existed through a wide region, of putting all girls but one to death at birth in each family! This they justified by saying the grain and water would not be sufficient for all if the population was not kept down!

A Chinese woman, belonging to a well-to-do family, called to see me one day. She had a beautiful baby boy in her arms. Her husband had just become a Christian and she seemed interested and some time later became one of our leading Christian women. But how dark her heart was then can be seen by what follows. A few weeks after her first visit she came again, but without the baby. The following conversation took place:

"Why! Where is your beautiful boy?"

"Oh, it's thrown away."

"But it was quite well when you came before. What disease did it have?"

"It did not have anything wrong." By this time I felt there must be something not right and determined to find out the truth. At last the woman told this story. One cold night the baby was lying on the outside of the "kang" or brick bed, it got out from under her cover and rolled off on to the floor. It was quite naked for the Chinese do not use night clothes, and instead of the mother taking the child up off the cold brick floor, she let it stay there all night. When she picked it up in the morning it was dead. I said, "Oh, how could you be so cruel?" She replied with a laugh, "I had plenty of other children and did not want the bother!"

When at an out-station a man brought a little baby, asking me to give it something to stop its crying as the mother was so tired of hearing it cry she did not want the child. I could not find anything the matter with the little one and told the father so. Some days later I saw the man in the yard and asked about the baby. He said it was "thrown away" meaning dead. I called my Bible woman and told her to find out the cause of the child's death. This is the story the father told her. On returning home the mother received her husband with angry looks saying, "I told you I don't want it; take it away." The father took the little one to a field away from the village and making a hole put the baby into it, but as he ran away the child's cries caused him to return and take it out again, but when the little one kept on crying he became impatient and throwing it back, covered it over and returned home. Who can say how many children meet a like fate in this heathen land every year?

What can one say of the injustice, cruelty, and oppression meted out to vast numbers of young brides and the younger wives and women by the older ones or their husbands? The marriage customs of China which demand that a young woman be under the care of, or rather guarded and watched, by her mother-in-law is necessary so long as the morality of the men is what it is.

My Bible woman and I were preaching in a heathen home. I had noticed a very fine young woman of about twenty among pur listeners. As we were preaching cries and sobs came from a room to the side of the court where we were. I signed to Mrs. Wang to find out the cause. A few moments later she called me out, and led me to the room from which the cries had come. As we passed through the court I noticed a poor idiot boy, a most pitiful sight. I found in the room we entered the fine young woman I had noticed among our listeners. She was sitting on the brick bed, a picture of utter despair. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and as she rocked herself back and forth she moaned and sometimes cried aloud, always the same words, – "Oh, it is for life, for life!" I tried to discover the cause but failed. The only thing anyone would say was, "She often takes these turns." On our way home my women told me the truth. This beautiful girl in the prime of life had been married to the idiot boy. The boy's family needed a strong woman of ability to do their weaving and sewing. An extra gift to the Go-between on condition she secured such a wife for the idiot boy procured for them what they wanted. But what did they care for the broken heart? They were heathen!

The last phase of heathenism I will touch upon is —Its utter hopelessness in face of Death. Again and again have I asked heathen women what they had to look forward to after death; one and all have said, only horror and fear. Never has the story of my own dear Mother's wonderful death, passing as she did with the very Glory of heaven shining on her face, failed to move an audience of heathen women: again and again have they come to me at such times saying, "We want to know how to die like that. We suffer enough here, how can we go where there is no more suffering?"

Many dark scenes come to mind as I write; but what I have given is sufficient to justify us in saying that Heathenism is cruel; it is wicked, and heartless, and selfish, yes, and devilish!

***

"If THOU forbear to deliver them that are drawn unto DEATH … He that keepeth THY SOUL doth not He know it!"

SKETCH X
The Blind Famine Refugee

The winter of – was a sad, bitter one for those living in Eastern Shantung. The great Yellow River, truly called "China's Sorrow," had burst its banks, devastating a large area of thickly populated country. In spite of well organized famine relief administered by missionaries and other representatives of foreign countries (some of whom lost their lives from famine fever when engaged in this work), many people perished from starvation, fever or exposure.

Early one morning towards the end of February when the weather was still bitterly cold, a sad thing was happening inside a little wayside temple not far from one of the villages in this famine region. On the cold brick floor just in front of the idol's shrine lay a dying beggar. Famine was claiming one more victim. Beside him knelt his blind wife, swaying backwards and forwards moaning piteously. On the opposite side, nestling close to his dying father, as if for protection and warmth, slept a little boy of about six years of age.

All through that cold pitiless night the poor woman had knelt there listening to the hard breathing which told what she could not see, – that the end was near. As the day dawned the last struggle ceased. Quietly, with the quietness and numbness of despair, the woman arose, felt for her child, awoke him, then grasping her stout beggar's stick with one hand and laying her other on the child's shoulder she motioned him to lead her away.

Reaching the road she hesitated. Where should they go to? Death from starvation seemed to await them on every side. As she stood there hesitating there came into her mind the remembrance of what someone had said long before – that a long way off, about one hundred miles distant, lived a man who could give sight to the blind. Quickly with a sense of desperation the poor blind beggar woman resolved to try to reach that man.

The sufferings of that journey can only be faintly imagined. They had no protection from the bitter winds by day, nor the cold frosty nights, but thin, torn, beggar garments. No resting place by day or night, but the roadside or the shelter of a wayside temple. Sometimes a whole day would pass when they failed to obtain even the few crumbs of black mouldy bread (made chiefly of chaff) usually thrown to them.

Later, when attempting to tell the story of these days, the poor woman seemed able to recall little else than the ever present dread she had, lest when they reach the doorway of the wonderful man who could give sight to the blind, it would perhaps be closed against them. Needless to say these fears were groundless, for when at last the mother and child reached the Mission gate almost dead from starvation and exhaustion, kind loving hands received them. They were taken into the Women's Hospital, cleansed, clothed, and fed.

The day following their arrival one of the missionaries went to Mrs. Ma, for such was the blind woman's name, and said:

"Mrs. Ma, I have been sent to tell you that the doctor has great hopes of restoring your sight. But you are far too weak for the operation yet. He says you are to have all the food you can eat, and that I am to get you anything you fancy. Now just tell me what you want."

At first the poor woman could not take it in. Then when Mrs. S – , repeated what she had said, and the meaning began to dawn upon her, she stretched out her hands and with an indescribably touching cry in her voice said, "If it is true indeed that I can really have what I most crave for, then oh, please just give me a little SALT!"

Reader, you, who have never known want, can scarcely comprehend the full significance of that request. "Just a little salt!" What deprivation, what agony of want is revealed in that word! To those of us who had seen something of the sufferings of famine victims, it meant volumes.

With tender loving care Mrs. Ma was nursed back to strength and health; but many weeks passed before the doctor pronounced her fit to stand the operation. Sight was restored to one eye, the other being quite beyond recovery. With glasses she was able to learn to read. The woman's gratitude knew no bounds. At first her eagerness to hear the Gospel and learn to read was largely due to this intense gratitude, but gradually the "True Light" entered her soul, and she became a sincere, earnest, humble Christian. Later she was appointed matron of the Women's Hospital where for twenty years she worked faithfully for the salvation of the women in the hospital.

Mrs. Ma's little son was put into the Boys' School soon after their arrival. As the years went by he passed through one Mission School into another, until he reached the Union Medical College of Peking. His whole life as a student had been such that the missionaries felt amply justified in paying his expenses through his medical course. He received his M.D., graduating with high honors in 19 – . A large hospital had just been erected in an important city in North China. Dr. Ma was asked to become house physician of this hospital. Soon after his appointment to this position he married a fine Christian girl, one of the most promising graduates of the Women's College of Peking.

It was in Dr. and Mrs. Ma's cosy home near the hospital that the writer last saw old Mrs. Ma who was there on a visit to her son. She had long been too frail for active work. Her sight was gone, but the reflection of an inner light illumined her countenance as we recalled together the goodness of the Lord since the day she arrived at the Mission gate a poor starved Blind Beggar Refugee seeking Light.