A Living Buddha
We were not saying good-bye to Tibet even when we left Sining two days after the “Butter Festival” and set out for Hochow, the city of many mosques and a zealously Mohammedan population. Mr. Ridley was with us, which made the parting less painful, but Dr. Kao was returning to his lonely field more than a week’s journey to the north, and felt the separation as much as we did. Then it was not easy to leave Mr. and Mrs. Harris alone to the great work in Sining, though nothing was further from their minds than self-pity. Brave and thankful, they spoke only of the privilege of being there for Jesus’ sake, and one realised afresh how precious such lives must be to Him. For ourselves, it was distinctly comforting that as we journeyed south¬ ward to districts populated chiefly by Moslems we should still be among Tibetans, for a few days at any rate.
For the people of the mountains had become very dear to us, and the hardest thing of all was to turn away from their need. What is it about the Tibetans that is so lovable, in spite of their dirt and moral degradation? One hardly knows,
THE DALAI LAMA.
“The uncrowned King of Tibet and spiritual head of two hundred million Buddhists.” (This photograph was sent by the Dalai Lama front Lhassa to Mr. H. F. Ridley at Sitting.)
To face J>a°-e 135. unless it be their generous, responsive nature and the capacity they have for devotion to spiritual ideals. Other people may be religious and make much of worship at stated seasons, but with the Tibetan it seems his chief occupation, the thing for which he lives. The Moslem prays five times a day, turning toward his holy places. But the Tibetan prays, in a sense, without ceasing — devising means for appealing to the Unseen with his mystic and, alas, meaningless phrase by night as well as day! It is easy to call such praying superstitious and put it down to habit and selfish fears, but what does it indicate of responsiveness to the best they know, poor and low as it is?
Then there is the sense, the uneasy consciousness, spreading even in Tibet, that the religion of the lama church is decadent. Not that the rank and file have any such apprehension; but among their leaders, even the Dalai Lama has given expression to the thought. When this more than royal personage — the uncrowned king of Tibet and spiritual head of two hundred million Buddhists — fled from Lhassa, on account of the coming of the British Mission under Colonel Sir Francis Younghusband (1904), he came to Sining and spent a year in the lamasery of Kumbum. Mr. Ridley saw him several times, and had an opportunity of personal conversation with him. The state with which he travelled was magnificent, from his golden-coloured satin litter, carried by four horses, to the bodyguard in gold brocade, and his pavilion, tents, and enclosing court, all of the same colour. His lama robes were of gold-tinted silk, and as he was borne along with strange, sonorous music, every one had to kneel before him. But his eyes were restless and uneasy. When Mr. Ridley and an English traveller, Lieutenant Brook, went to visit him at Kumbum, taking as a present a valuable fur, though he received the gift and talked with them through an interpreter, he could not look them in the face. He was staying in a mansion above the gold-roofed temple, and despite the wealth of the monastery and countless other monasteries over which he is supposed to rule, despite the undisputed sway of Lamaism and the demon-power behind it, he said in so many words before returning to Lhassa that Christianity is a progressive force and Buddhism would decay before it.
In the seclusion of many a Tibetan lamasery to-day there are those who, if they spoke truly, would acknowledge the same thought. For though the land is still closed to the missionary it is not closed to the Truth. Many of the lamas are reading Christian literature, which reaches them from time to time by post, and some who are looked upon as Incarnations have written to Mr. Sorensen, who has this work in hand.
From his virtual kingdom on the upper waters of the Yellow River, where he rules over thirty-six
1 At the lonely frontier post of Tatsienlu (province of Szechwan) Mr. Theo. Sorensen has for many years been working at the problem of how to make the Gospel widely known in Tibet. The Tibetan Religious Literature Depot, which he has been enabled to establish, is doing a wide work in preparing, printing, and circulating Christian literature and supplying it for free distribution to all missionaries labouring for the evangelisation of Tibet. They also employ colporteurs and make good use of the Chinese postal system, sending packages of Scriptures and tracts to many lamaseries throughout the country.
lamaseries and all their feudal population, one of these “Living Buddhas” wrote:
To the most learned Doctor of Metaphysics and all the important branches of sacred literature, So-nam-tsering (Sorensen).
I, your humble servant, have seen several copies of the Scriptures and having read them carefully they certainly made me believe in Christ. I understand a little of the outstanding principles and the doctrinal teaching of the One Son, but as to the Holy Spirit’s nature and essence and as to the origin of this religion I am not at all clear, and it is therefore important that the doctrinal principles (of this religion) should be fully explained, so as to enlighten the unintelligent and people of small mental ability.
The teaching of the science of medicine and astrology is also very important. It is therefore evident, if we want this blessing openly manifested, we must believe in the religion of the only Son of God. Being in earnest, I pray you from my heart not to consider this letter lightly. With a hundred salutations.
That he was meditating upon these things is even more evident from a poem he enclosed than from his letter. Though they lose much of their beauty through translation, the lines cannot but be of interest, coming from such a source:
O Thou supreme God and most precious Father —
The Truth above all religions,
The Ruler of all animate and inanimate worlds!
Greater than Wisdom, separate from birth and death,
Is His Son Christ the Lord,
Shining in glory among endless beings.
Incomprehendable Wonder, miraculously made!
In His teaching I myself also believe.
As your spirit is with heaven united,
My soul undivided is seeking the truth.
Jesus the Saviour’s desire fulfilling,
For the coming of the Kingdom of Heaven I am praying.
Happiness to all.
Having heard of this friend of Mr. Ridley’s, it was with no little satisfaction we found ourselves near his home two days after leaving Sining. The journey had been wonderful, for we were in the Switzerland of north-west China, that lofty, lovely region with its scattered Tibetan settlements and winding valleys, over which we gained an extensive outlook from a pass twelve thousand feet high — perennial springs, freezing as they flowed, forming shining glaciers far below. How beautiful it must be in summer when these heights are gay with mountain - flowers and white rhododendrons take the place of snow! Wild strawberries refresh the traveller, and in the valleys Mr. Ridley has found gooseberries mile after mile beside the track.
On the third morning of our journey, walking ahead of the litters, we passed across a valley that runs due south to the Yellow River. There, on the far side of the river, backed by magnificent mountains and not far from one of his lamaseries, the Fuh-ie’s home is found. Had it not been Saturday, and that we were expected at a mission outpost for the week-end, we should have been tempted to travel south instead of east and visit Mr. Ridley’s friend. Belonging to the Red Sect, he is married, and we could have seen his wife and children even if the Fuh-ie had been absent. As it was, we could only pray for him, sitting waiting for our litters, for him and others like him throughout Tibet, who know the truth in measure, but not its saving power.
We thought of all Dr. Kao had told us of this man’s influence and spirit, and how the people of his great territory worship him as a god. Dr. Kao had come over from Lanchow some years previously for evangelistic and medical work, and at Mr. Ridley’s suggestion had gone to Kweiteh, a city not far from the Fuh-ie’s home, to attempt to reach the Tibetans. But they were shy of the stranger and would not come to his inn, until the “Living Buddha,” hearing that he was there, came over. Important personage though he is, he put up at the same inn, and was most kind and friendly. He sent out all round the city to tell his people that the doctor from Lanchow had come, and that they would have advice and foreign medicine. This drew at once, and for two or three weeks Dr. Kao had a constant stream of patients.
He had also the opportunity of watching this supposed Incarnation among the people who came in crowds to seek his blessing. None came empty-handed. In addition to the usual scarf of welcome, butter, pears, bread, musk, silver or copper cash were brought as gifts, and the Fuh-ie received them as his due. Even the poorest brought something, and it was touching to see women offering just a single thread of silk, laid over both hands, when they could afford nothing more. If the Fuh-ie was in kindly mood, he would take the thread and wind it round his finger in token of approval, before putting his hand on their heads in blessing. To be refused his blessing is a calamity these poor people greatly dread.
Among many who heard the Gospel on that visit, none listened with more interest than Ku-rung himself, who at times seemed “almost persuaded” to be a Christian. “I do believe in God, your God,” he said to Dr. Kao, and he admitted freely that he was no Incarnation, but “just an ordinary individual such as you are.” Only the Spirit of God can convict such a man of sin, however, and bring him in humble faith to Christ. Think of the sacrifices involved, to his short human sight! Shall we not pause before turning the page and ask, in the all-prevailing Name, that light and life may come to this man who is actually worshipped as a god, and through him to many? 1
Of the value of medical work as a means of reach¬ ing the people, Dr. Kao was much impressed on this visit. He found them exceedingly grateful and generous, but soon realised that to make a friend of a Tibetan you must chua-chu £ a, “grip him,” and win his confidence the first time you meet him. It is much more difficult afterwards. And this was just what the medical work enabled him to do. The Kweiteh people took him to their hearts, begged him to stay among them, and gave him the freedom of their homes. He soon picked up a little Tibetan, speaking constantly through interpretation, and would have stayed much longer but that Dr. King needed him back at the hospital.
The gratitude of the Tibetans and their religious earnestness profoundly impressed him — their prayer-wheels and constant incantations, sometimes all night long. One man who had benefited by his
1 Mr. Ridley’s graphic account of a recent visit to the home of this “Living Buddha” will be found in Appendix C.
A” LIVINCx BUDDHA
treatment invited him to a feast, not in his own home, which was too far away, but in his sister’s house nearer the city. As they were going, this Tibetan, who could not speak Chinese, seemed to be trying to express something of which his heart was full. Stopping again and again, he would point up to heaven, then lay his hand upon his breast. After he had done this two or three times Dr. Kao caught his meaning. For he had been preaching through interpretation about the Lord Jesus, how He left His home in glory to suffer and die for our sins, and now comes to live in the hearts of those who love Him. The bright look on the Tibetan’s face was unmistakable as he pointed up, then laid his hand on his heart, and Kao soon managed to let him know that he understood. At the sister’s house they were received with cordial hospitality, and the doctor was able to preach again to many hearers. How he longed to accept Ku-rung Fuh-ie’s invitation to go to his home for a year or two to learn Tibetan! But with wife and children to care for, and much other work on hand, this did not seem feasible.
One thing he learned that was pressed home on our hearts as we travelled through that same border¬ land — the people are accessible, if only we will go to them. As to their superstition and darkness, we began to realise it in measure on that journey. Every Tibetan home we came to had its prayer-flag fluttering in the breeze — a strip of whitish material fastened round a tall pole from top to bottom, and covered with manis, printed or written. They have
1 For fuller information about this mystic phrase see Appendix D.
them also hanging under the eaves of houses, or stretched across the road in narrow passes or any conspicuous place where the wind comes freely. In a village just over the hills, Mr. Ridley told us he had seen them worked by water — five large prayer-wheels, one after the other, catching the current of a mountain stream. Some are attached to long ropes, so that the grandmother, watching the baby or feeding the fire, may at the same time keep the prayer-wheel going for the family. Then there are prayer-wheels turned like windmills, and others pushed by passers-by. All are filled with rolls of paper, a solid mass, on which is written that one and only cry, whatever it may mean — “O thou jewel in the lotus-flower, Amen!” Then there are small hand-wheels, carried by men and women alike, and little ones fixed over doors and above fires, moved by the circulation of the air. Everywhere and always they are turning, turning, in the unending repetition, “Om mani padmi hum.”
And human voices take up the refrain. As Koeppen in his book on Lamaism records, these six syllables, among Tibetans and Mongols alike, “are the first words the child learns to stammer and the last gasping utterance of the dying. The wanderer murmurs them on his way, the herdsman beside his cattle, the matron at her household tasks, the monk in all stages of contemplation. They form at once a cry of battle and a shout of victory. They are to be read wherever the Lama church hath spread, upon banners, upon rocks, upon trees, upon walls, upon monuments of stone, upon household utensils, upon strips of paper, upon human skulls and skeletons! They form, according to the ideas of believers, the utmost conception of all religion, of all worship, of all revelation, the path of rescue and the gate of salvation!”
And still, to-day, those empty words are the Tibetan’s only hope and consolation. They rise and fall on every breeze that sweeps that dark, waiting land: “O thou jewel in the lotus-flower — jewel in the lotus-flower” — that is all! And the Name that is above every name, the Name that shall endure forever, in which alone is salvation, few of these warm-hearted, superstitious, priest-ridden sons of the mountains have ever heard. The immorality in which they live is appalling, even their gods, the chief est of them, being indescribable. Oh for the cleansing fire, the liberating power of the Spirit of God to transform Tibetan hearts and lives through faith in Christ!
I know of a land that is sunk in shame,
Of hearts that faint and tire;
And I know of a name, a name, a name,
Can set that land on fire.
Its sound is a brand, its letters flame.
I know of a name, a name, a name,
Will set that land on fire.
Jesus, the Name high over all,
In earth and air and sky;
Angels and men before it fall.
And devils fear and fly.
“A chosen vessel unto Me, to bear My Name... Can there be a higher honour, a more glorious invest¬ ment of life?