Reading: Methods, Chapter 14: Epilogue

Missionary Methods: St. Paul’s or Ours?
By Roland Allen

Chapter 14: Epilogue: A Present-Day Contrast

It may perhaps add point and reality to the argument which I have tried to set forth in the preceding pages, if I illustrate it by examples taken from modern life. I have imagined two men working under fairly similar circumstances. I have first made a composite photograph. All the details are taken from life, but no one missionary supplied me with them all. The picture which results is consequently imaginary, but I think it will be recognized at once as representing a real type, and not an uncommon one. The second illustration is not composite. It is the actual experience of one actual man; the story is extracted almost verbatim from his diary of his work.

I.

The missionary was a good man, devoted to his work. He was sincerely desirous of building up the native Church. He labored in a large district and tried hard to do the work of two or three men.

He began by building schools and churches. He saw that unless the children of his converts received some education, they could not progress as he desired to see them progress. He saw that their parents were poor and could not afford to do very much to promote education; they could hardly afford to lose the help of their children even when they were young. Consequently, he was driven to look elsewhere for support. He besought societies, he wrote letters, he enlisted the sympathies of his friends at home, he collected subscriptions. He exhorted and taught his converts until they began to understand that it was to their advantage to lend their help. Moreover, they knew that he sought their welfare, and they were inclined to help him in any work which he started. So out of their poverty, they subscribed money and labor, and in due course, the schools were built — primary schools in the villages, and a high school at the central station. The schools were built on mission property and belonged to the mission, and the mission supplied the teachers, and relied upon the teachers to keep up the interest of the Church-folk in them and to induce them to send their children.

Similarly the missionary provided churches for his people. He said that if corporate Church life was to be a reality, the converts must have churches. These were provided in the same way and entailed no small labor and anxiety. In some cases, he actually assisted at the building with his own hands: in all, he exercised careful and constant supervision. He was very anxious that his buildings should be as good and as church-like as possible. And not only in the exterior, but in the internal fittings, he strove to have everything not only good but attractive and complete. With the help of his friends in England, he succeeded in providing some of them with bells and harmoniums. He introduced surpliced choirs; he induced guilds of ladies in England to send him out altar linen and frontals. He instructed his people in the use of the Prayer Book, and he managed by means of persevering labor to teach them to conduct the service in good order. He even got them to sing translations of Hymns Ancient and Modern, for they were a musical people — though to them the tunes were unnatural, and the translations were imperfect, and sometimes, to them, they were almost incomprehensible. Thus the services in his churches became the admiration of visitors from England. Yet he was not quite satisfied. Churches and schools alike required perpetual supervision. There was a tendency among the converts to let things fall into decay the moment that his inspiring presence was withdrawn, even for a short time. The surplices were allowed to get dirty and ragged; the altar frontals became moth-eaten; the very fabric of the buildings was neglected. The people were inclined sometimes to meet in informal services to sing native hymns which one of them had written to native tunes, to the neglect of the daily offices. The missionary was disheartened. He saw that it would take a long time to establish a habit of decent, orderly service, as he understood it. His converts had subscribed liberally, and he had boasted of their self-support. Yet they did not seem to look upon the fruits of their liberality as their own. They did not show any eager zeal to draw others from their heathen neighbors into the Church.

Consequently, he eagerly welcomed a diocesan scheme to establish native Church Councils, because he hoped that, by this means, his people would learn to take a more intelligent and active part in the management of the church. He immediately set to work to carry out the new scheme. He directed his native pastors and helpers to see that the Councils were elected. At first, neither pastors nor people understood it. They saw in it simply a new method of getting money. One of the native pastors thus described his experience to a stranger: “The people come to us and they say, ‘What does this mean? We do not want to be consulted. The missionaries are our father and our mother. Let the missionary tell us what to do and we will do it.’ And I say, The missionaries have directed this. They want you to do this. They think it will educate you in the management of affairs and will make you more self-supporting. We must do it.” And they did. By degrees, they began to find that it was interesting to be consulted, and they gained a new sense of importance. They not only subscribed money, but within certain limits, they administered it. It was true that the missionary audited all their accounts and objected strongly to any expenditure that he had not authorized, but still, under his direction, they did administer some funds. They also learned to criticize the use of funds. They knew that much money came into the missionary’s hands from mission sources, and they surmised that he administered more than they knew. They knew how much they themselves gave. They knew that the missionary boasted of their generosity. They too began to feel that they were doing a great deal. To strangers, their first remark was a modest boast that they were far advanced in self-support; their second was a hint that they did not receive so much out of the Mission funds as they thought that they deserved.

They were not, of course, allowed to go far in self-government. The missionary felt that it would be extremely dangerous if people who had not learned to walk were allowed to run. All their meetings were of the nature of instructions in what the missionary thought should be done, rather than free proposal and discussion. “If they did what they liked, what should I do,” said the missionary, “if they wanted to do something of which I did not approve? I must keep the direction of affairs in my own hands.” — In this he was ably supported by his native pastors who were entirely independent of their congregations. The missionary wanted to appoint a special catechist to work among children — a sort of special missioner for children. In one pastorate the pastorate committee refused to see the wisdom or necessity of this, but the missionary had expressed a wish for it, and the pastor followed the missionary. The pastorate committee refused to support the plan, so the pastor vetoed their resolution. The district committee sitting under the chairmanship of the missionary accepted the plan. It was carried out. The pastorate committee thereupon passed a resolution to the effect that, as the proposal had been carried over their heads and they disapproved of it, they would not vote any money for its support. The pastor vetoed that resolution also, and paid the money out of the church fund, of which he was treasurer. Nevertheless, in spite of the fact that the committees did not always see eye to eye with their missionary, and consequently had to be overruled, their very existence did encourage the converts in self-support, and did teach them the art of self-government to a certain degree. And the missionary was glad of that. He really wanted them to learn to manage their own affairs; only in the early stages, he felt that it was of vital importance that they should not be allowed to go wrong.

Similarly, in cases of discipline, he was most anxious to educate the people. He did not believe in the exercise of discipline as the mere decree of white missionaries. He thought the people should be represented. In cases of serious wrong-doing, he caused a committee of inquiry to be appointed; and if the case presented any peculiar difficulty he himself went down and sat on the committee at the inquiry. No doubt justice was done. But it was disappointing to find that Christians often refused hospitality to a man who had been so excommunicated when the missionary was present, and then received him when the missionary was absent. They did not seem to realize the full responsibility of their action. If it was suggested that the case might have been different if the native body had acted in the first instance alone. The answer was conclusive: “It would be dreadful if the Native Committee condoned a moral offense.”

Such was the missionary’s energy and success in governing his native converts that he was appointed Secretary of the Diocesan Conference of his Mission. There he could exercise his abilities over a wider area. It was unfortunate that his knowledge of the language was not sufficient to enable him to write or translate papers quickly, because the rule of the Conference was that all business should be transacted in the native tongue; but the difficulty was got over by allowing the rule to lapse. Happily, nearly all the native members of the conference, or at any rate all the more influential members, could speak English; and speeches could be delivered on occasion in the vernacular for the benefit of those who could understand no other tongue. But here too, the missionary and his fellows felt the necessity of keeping the conduct of affairs safe in their own hands. One day, one of his own people rose at the conference to propose that a certain building which had been originally put up as a residence for a foreign missionary, should be converted into a secondary school for the people of that district. This was a proposal of which the missionary heartily disapproved. It struck directly at the position of the secondary school in his own central station which was under his own immediate care. He rose to oppose it. Nevertheless, he could not convince the proposer, who again got up and began a long speech on behalf of his plan. He was very eager about it because he was himself a native of the place and a leading Churchman there. Thereupon the missionary broke in and cut him short abruptly. His argument, this time, was conclusive. “Well, anyhow,” he said, “it is our building, it is not your building, and we will not let you have it for the purpose.”

II.

The second was in charge of a much smaller district. He began by approaching his Bishop with a request that the usual grant given for the upkeep of his mission station might be withdrawn. He desired that his own salary and the salaries of his three native catechists might be paid to them, but no more. “If,” he said, “we need money for any purpose, we will apply for it, explaining what we can do, what we propose to do, and what help we need; and you, if you think good, can help us out of mission funds. I will see that the work is done, and I will inform you when it is done. But I shall keep no mission accounts, for I shall never keep any mission money in my hands.”

At the direction of his bishop, and as part of a diocesan scheme, he caused a council to be elected by the four little Churches in his district, and he used that council. If anything needed to be done in any of the churches, either the congregation found out the need for itself, or the missionary suggested the need until the congregation felt it. When they recognized the need, they met as a congregation to discuss it (if the missionary was present, he was present; if he was not, he was not), and to consider what they could do to supply it. If they could supply it, they did so without any further question; and when the missionary came round, they displayed their work with pride and were duly congratulated. If they needed help, they instructed their representatives to go to the District Council to appeal for them. The representatives appeared at the council, and set forth the case, and said how much the local Church could guarantee towards the expense and how much they needed.

The District Council had a small fund in the hands of its treasurer from which, if it approved of the scheme, it voted a grant. If that was not enough to supply the need, the missionary then reported the matter to the bishop: “The local Church wants such and such things are done; it is prepared to subscribe so much; the District Council is prepared to subscribe so much; they still need so much.

I think the local subscription is sufficient to justify the conclusion that the people really are in earnest about it (or are not, as the case might be). I think the District Council grant is sufficient to justify the conclusion that the council is agreed that the work ought (or ought not, as the case might be) to be done. Can you supply the deficiency?” If the money was given, it was handed over to the District Council, which then gave it with its own grant to the local Church, and the work was done, and there was an end.

At first this caused great amazement among the people. A local Church wanted a school. The people appealed to the missionary and asked him to found one in their village. They said, “We want a school.” “Then why don’t you get one,” was the answer. They were astonished. “What?” they said, “how can we get one?” “How do your heathen neighbors get their children taught?” “They subscribe together and invite a teacher.” “Well, why don’t you do that?” “But that has never been done. The missionary has always found the teacher.” “I cannot help that. I do not see why I should find your teachers. I have no teachers; you have. Is there not a single man among you who can teach a few little boys to read and write and say their catechism?” “But may we do that?” “Of course, why not?” “But how shall we pay him?” “Look here,” said the missionary, “you go away and think it out and talk it over. See what you can do, and then come and report to me, and perhaps I will give you a subscription out of my own pocket, if you are in difficulties.” (Here he made a mistake; he ought to have told them to report to the District Council, but it was his first case, and he had not thought things out himself.) So they went away, and in due course the school was begun. It cost the missionary about £1.

He said little about the Church, the Body, or Unity; he always acted as if the Church, the Body, and the Unity was a reality. He treated the Church as a Church. He declined to treat individual members of the body as mere individuals. Before he reached the district, there had been grievous troubles and disturbances, great persecutions, and afflictions. In fear of their lives, some of the Christians had fallen away. They did not indeed, so far as I know, practice heathen rites, but they did not come to church; and they were unwilling to be openly associated with the Christian congregation. The missionary did not search out to these people. He addressed himself to the Church. He pointed out to the Church the great danger in which these lapsed Christians were, and how serious were the evils which might result from their continued impenitence. He reminded the Christians that they formed the permanent element in the Church, and that the good name of the Church was of vital importance to them. He asked them what steps they proposed to take, and he left them to decide what they thought ought to be done. They appointed certain of their number to visit the lapsed Christians, in order to set before them the dangers of their state and to ask them to decide on which side they would stand: with the Church for Christ, or with the heathen. They sent out their representatives with prayer. They received their report with thanksgiving. In a few days, most of the lapsed were restored to the Church.

One case was of a more difficult character. In the height of the persecution, a prominent member of the Church had driven away his son’s wife, and had contracted for him a marriage with the daughter of one of the leaders of the persecuting society. This had happened more than two years before the missionary arrived in the district. For two years the offense had been passed over in silence. The offender and his son were both still Christians in name. As soon as the missionary found this out he called the Church together. Again he urged upon the Christians the grievous and palpable dangers of condoning such an offense. Again he left them to consider what ought to be done. After a time the catechist, and one or two other members of the Church, came to tell him that the Church was agreed that the offenders ought to be excommunicated publicly. To that, he replied that it was not within the power of the local Church to excommunicate any member. All that they could do was to forward their resolution to the bishop with the request that he would take action in the case. He said that he was quite willing to write to the bishop for the Church in that sense. So he did. But in the meantime, he met the offender and told him what the Church was doing. The offender came to see him. He was much disturbed. “Why,” he said, “cannot you act as your predecessors have always acted? Before, if anyone did anything wrong, the priest wrote a letter to the bishop, the bishop wrote a letter to the Church, the letter was read out in church, the man stayed away, and after that no more was said about it. Why cannot you do that? Why do you stir up all the Christians in such matters?” The missionary answered that public notorious offenses concerned not only the priest-in-charge and the bishop, but the whole Church, and that it was right that the Church should act in such cases as a body. “But what can I do?” asked the man. “I cannot bear this.” The missionary replied that he did not know, but that he thought that if the man was truly penitent, and made a public confession in the Church, and then published his confession in the city, so that the name of the Church was cleared, then the Christians might be satisfied; and that he might remain in the Church as a penitent, until the Hand of God made clear the way for his full restoration. Thereupon the man departed. Afterward the missionary met his catechist and told him what he had said, and asked him whether he thought the Christians would be satisfied with such an act of penitence. “It is of no importance what they think,” answered the catechist. “Such a thing has never been done since the world began. Whatever he may do, he will not do that.” Yet he did. It is one thing to be excommunicated by a foreign bishop; it is quite another to be excommunicated by one’s neighbors. The whole Church was in a ferment. Many of the Christians were connected by family ties with the offenders. They took the matter seriously to heart. Prayers went up to God night and day from individuals and from the whole Church. The offender read out in church a confession couched in the simplest and most definite terms. In it he confessed that he had committed such an offense, that his action was contrary to the laws of God and the Church, that he was persuaded that salvation was to be found in Christ in communion with His Church, and that from then on he would endeavor to conform his life to the Law of God. He went out with two or three of the leaders of the Church and posted that confession on the four gates of the city.

Soon the missionary learned that the secret of success in his work lay in dealing with the Church as a body. When questions arose he had but one answer, “Tell it to the Church.” A man came to him one day with a long tale of persecution. His landmark, he said, had been removed by a heathen neighbor who, not content with robbing him, was accusing him of the very offense which he himself had committed. The injured Christian begged for assistance against his adversary. The only answer that he received was, “Tell it to the Church.” Eventually, he did so. After service one Sunday morning, he rose and said, “I have business for the Church.” All gave him a patient hearing while he poured out his tale. Then an old farmer in the congregation rose and asked: “Has your adversary taken the case into court?” “No, but he threatens to do so.” “Then I propose that we adjourn this matter until he carries out his threat.” Not another word was said. Some weeks later the same man came to say that his enemy had now taken the case into court and to appeal for help. Again, an old man arose: “I think that we had better not consider this matter anymore.” Again the sentence was received in silence. In that silence, the whole Church had condemned their brother. They held him to be in the wrong. A question which might have perplexed and troubled a foreigner, one in which he might easily have made a serious mistake, was settled. No Christian in the congregation would have dared to tell a foreign priest that the man was wrong. None would have dared to advise him not to give his countenance to another. But none was ready to uphold the evil himself; none need break that silence of condemnation. They all knew every detail of the case, details which none would have ventured to utter even in private. The aged, respectable leader, illiterate, ignorant in many ways, dull though he might be, found his voice in the council of the Church, and fulfilled a duty which would have tried the wisdom of the best educated and best-instructed teacher.

Very soon the Church began to realize itself. Sunday after Sunday the congregation sat discussing questions of Church order or instructing one another in the faith. Most often the missionary could not himself be present; and often when he might have been present, he felt that it was wise to leave his people to thresh out their questions and difficulties in their own way, and to report to him their decisions, or to send their questions to him, if they wanted his advice.

He was not afraid that they would make serious mistakes or take hasty action behind his back. The more he retired from them, the more they turned to him in case of need, the more they sought his advice, the more they told him their plans, the more they saved him from difficulties. One day, on his return from an outlying village, he was met by his catechist with the familiar question, “Do you know what we have been doing today?” “No. What have you been doing?” “We have adopted a baby.” The children of a poor Christian playing in the fields had heard a cry. Seeing no one near, they searched about till they discovered a box lightly covered with soil, from which the cry came. They broke it open and found a young baby. They took it home to their father. He, poor man, was utterly unable to satisfy another mouth. So next Sunday he went to church and told his tale. Thereupon the Christians decided to give it into the care of one of their number and to pay her a weekly dole for its maintenance. It was baptized with a name which in English means “one who has obtained love.” When the missionary heard this he was glad. If he had not taught the people to “Tell it to the Church,” the baby might have been put down on his doorstep, and he might have been driven to begin the foundation of a costly “Foundlings’ Home.” But happily for him, the Church had learned to manage its own business.

Sometimes it was his part to suggest the giving of charity. One day the catechist told him that the husband of a poor woman was dead, and the family was hard put to arrange the funeral. “Get so and so to bring the case before the Church.” After the meeting, the missionary asked the catechist what the Church had done. The Church had subscribed so much. “Is that enough?” “Barely.” Then the missionary, too, as a member of the Church could subscribe. He was not outside the Church. He could act with the Church, but not instead of, or without it.

All this may sound very trivial. But yet it led the catechist to see the hope of a native Church before him, as a reality, more clearly than all the teaching which he had received.

And he learned that lesson in three months. All the matters recorded here happened in less than six months; and he and many others had grasped the truth of the situation long before the end of that time. One day the catechist came into the missionary’s house with a question. “Do you know what you are doing, sir?” “Yes,” answered the missionary, “I think that I know, but I should like to know what you think I am doing.” “Well, sir, if you go on like this, you will found a native Church.”