The Crisis Of A Convert

The issue of conversions, in the last few weeks, has triggered a virulentdebate. There has been a virtual bloodbath on the Internet discussion forums.But from the many narratives and personal testimonies of people who have changedtheir faith, the one thing that has been inadequately highlighted is theenormity of their personal crisis.

When confronted with an extraordinary situation, something that could havearisen out of a dreadful ailment, or out of a deep moral crisis, or out ofconsuming fear, or simply out of an engulfing vacuum inside, ordinary people andeven those who consider themselves not so ordinary, are willing to explore anyavenue to overcome the issue confronting them and remain sane. As a result, somemay turn to spirituality; some may reshuffle their gods from among an acceptablepantheon; some may altogether change their faith; some may change their eatingand reading habits; some may alter their political philosophy and some may go toserve their fellow human beings. However big or small the personal crisis maybe, however silly or serious it may appear, at no point is it fair to questionits authenticity. Questioning the authenticity is perhaps the first act ofviolence. 

During my travels last week in Mangalore, Manipal and Udupi, this aspect ofpersonal crisis was foregrounded in the many testimonies that people, who hadconverted from either one faith to another or from one denomination within afaith to another, shared with me. Sample the story of George Verghese: "Iam a Syrian Jacobite who converted to New Life, but nobody forced me to do so.As long as I was with the mainstream church I had no personal encounter withJesus Christ. I was a Christian only because I was born into that religion. Ihad many problems and many fears. I used to drink and smoke. I used to getterrible dreams. I went to a psychiatrist, but the drugs he gave me only made mefeel drowsy. I found my peace after I joined New Life and accepted Jesus as mypersonal saviour. It was not a change of religion it was a change ofheart." Similarly, there was the story of a Hindu woman who had joined aPentecostal group to escape the agony caused by her infidel husband. Also thestory of a fisherwoman who had shown the light to a family, one of whose memberswas infected with HIV; a mother who had to find prayers for her daughter who wassuffering from terminal cancer and so on. Verghese's pastor, Gopinath, washimself a Hindu-Brahmin from Kerala, who had converted into New Life and foundedits unit in Udupi. 

In my effort to make sense of all that I had heard, on my return to Bangalore,quite unconsciously, I picked up God That Failed, a book long forgottenand tucked away in a corner shelf of my library. Edited by Richard Crossman andpublished in the 50s, this book spoke about a different kind of conversion - theideological one. Here too, I found personal testimonies of six important writers(Andre Gide, Richard Wright, Ignazio Silone, Stephen Spender, Arthur Koestlerand Louis Fischer) on why they made their journey into Communism and how theylater traced their steps back to democracy. Communism is the 'God' they had allgone seeking, but they found, and explained how, that 'God' had failed. History,politics and disagreements apart, what struck me as I re-read the book was thatat the core of their ideological departures and arrivals was a crisis. A crisissimilar to the one felt by George Verghese or the fisherwoman or the lonelymother.

Crossman makes the purpose of the book clear in his introduction: "Ourconcern was to study the state of mind of the Communist convert, and theatmosphere of the period - from 1917 to 1939 - when conversion was socommon." At another point, he says: "If despair and loneliness werethe main motives for conversion to Communism, they were greatly strengthened bythe Christian conscience. Here again, the intellectual, though he may haveabandoned orthodox Christianity, felt its prickings far more acutely than manyof his unreflective church-going neighbours."

Leave alone Crossman, listen to one of the converts. Arthur Koestler says:"A faith is not acquired by reasoning. One does not fall in love with awoman, or enter the womb of a church, as a result of logical persuasion. Reasonmay defend an act of faith - but only after the act has been committed, and theman committed to the act. Persuasion may play a part in a man's conversion; butonly the part of bringing to its full and conscious climax a process which hasbeen maturing in regions where no persuasion can penetrate. A faith is notacquired; it grows like a tree... I became converted because I was ripe for itand lived in a disintegrating society thirsting for faith." 

As I read this passage, I mentally juxtaposed it to the debates of"forced" conversions and recalled what Verghese had told me when I hadasked if inducements were being offered for people to convert: "There arenearly 25 Pentecostal churches in the region and if money was being offered thenpeople would happily move from one church to making huge sums of money. We livein a time when a father cannot hold a son back, how can we hold people backthrough inducement?" he asked. Clearly hinting that conversion was aboutdeep personal conviction, as Koestler points out, than something as stupid asmoney.

I wonder how the Sangh Parivar, which is so inflamed by conversions would reactto this argument about personal conviction and crisis. Going by this argument,if they have to stop conversions they have to extinguish crisis and eraseconviction. 

If the converts have to retrace their steps back, like Koestler and five of hisfellow writers did, it won't happen by ransacking churches and raping nuns, butas Crossman says the "conflict of conscience has to reach a breakingpoint." Till then the Sangh has to be patient!