METODOLOGIA MISSIONARIA

### MISSIONARY METHODOLOGY

Missionary methodology is nothing other than pastoral practice in missionary territories, and it is applied in a wide variety of ways and consistently. While it depends on common pastoral practice inasmuch as it utilizes its principles and general conclusions, it must address entirely special questions and problems due to the great diversity of peoples to be evangelized.

**OUTLINE:**

I. General Principles

II. Missionary Methodology among Primitive Peoples

III. Missionary Methodology in China

IV. Missionary Methodology in India

V. Missionary Methodology in Japan

---

### I. General Principles

Missionary methodology primarily concerns the manner of approaching peoples to be converted—that is, the technique of engagement—which can be practiced through either a direct or indirect method. The direct method, which ancient missiologists preferred under the heading *de modo convertendi paganos*, consists in convincing pagans of their errors and enlightening them regarding the fundamental principles of the Catholic faith. The indirect method, instead, seeks points of contact between the principles of our religion and the ideas held by pagans, so as to progressively arrive at a complete exposition of Catholic doctrine that will make the pagan a perfect Christian. Today, the indirect method is preferred, though the direct method is not neglected.

Another general problem concerns the sequential or simultaneous execution of apostolic work in newly conquered territories. A shortage of personnel and limited resources make it impossible to occupy an entire missionary territory simultaneously, but this does not justify a particularistic and naturalistic tendency that would focus only on lands and peoples presenting fewer difficulties or those that seem almost ready for conversion on their own. The best solution lies in a middle path that can suitably distribute the demands placed on missionary forces—limited in number—taking into account not only the character of the peoples and the local environment but also other qualitative, personal, and social factors. These elements may lead to the choice of one new field of work over another. It is therefore permissible to admit a preferential treatment toward certain peoples due to external factors such as geographical extent and population density in relation to future development; the qualitative value that determines the position of races in the international sphere; the greater or lesser capacity to receive the Gospel; the present and future damages caused by wars, Protestant threats, moral decay, and other similar factors; and the decisive nature of the present moment in relation to all these positive and negative factors. It must not, however, be forgotten that apostolate is rather the work of God, who, through His grace, crowns the heroism and sacrifice of confessors and martyrs, causing abundant harvests to spring forth even in territories that human prudence deemed barren.

A third general problem concerns the intensive or extensive method to be used in a given territory. The extensive method seeks to establish as many missionary stations as possible, to be visited occasionally. The intensive method, instead, prefers to restrict the field of activity and work deeply in the souls of new Christians. Both methods have their advantages and can be used successfully in different phases of the apostolate. At the beginning of a new missionary expedition, it may be better to follow the extensive method, establishing as many stations as possible in small centers, even using catechists. Such a system is always to be recommended in those territories where the law stipulates that a minister of a religion cannot establish himself within certain limits where another minister is already present.

After a general establishment has been achieved, it is necessary to resort to the intensive method to consolidate the initial success, developing the main stations, establishing parish and quasi-parish districts, and ensuring the strictest discipline in the Christian life of the new faithful.

Missionary methodology also deals with the supernatural and natural means of the apostolate, generally including among the former divine grace, miracles, prayer, and the personal holiness of the missionary, and among the latter the catechumenate, schools, the formation of native clergy, social and charitable works, and even sacred art and medicine. Another vast field is constituted by the culture, customs, and religious beliefs of various peoples, all of which must be studied to identify elements that can facilitate the preaching of Christianity.

These problems, however, belong more properly to special methodology.

**

---

### II. MISSIONARY METHODOLOGY AMONG PRIMITIVE PEOPLES

Ethnology defines primitive peoples as those whose cultural development, due to a complex of causes not always controllable, has occurred with extreme slowness or has crystallized into indistinct forms. The lack of a writing system is generally indicated as a specific characteristic of primitives; it would otherwise be difficult to find another common trait, since the cultural differences distinguishing one group from another are many and profound. These differences bear witness to the spiritual capacities of these peoples, both as individuals and as communities—capacities about which, now that the controversy over the mentality of primitives has been overcome, no ethnologist entertains any doubt. Geographically, primitives are most numerous on the African continent, but they are found in all other continents as well, often relegated to marginal or isolated zones.

The Church, both in antiquity and in subsequent centuries, has never failed to address itself to primitive peoples.

The first methodological rule of missionary penetration is the thorough knowledge of the cultural state of the peoples to be evangelized, and especially of their native language. This knowledge must be supplemented by the study of their customs and traditions. Since objects and materials are almost entirely under colonial governance, a new series of problems confronts the study of missionaries. Essentially, this concerns the phenomenon of acculturation—that is, the contact and competition between primitive cultures and Western and Christian civilization. It is the right and duty of missions to illuminate and guide this process. The ancient dilemma of missionary methodology—assimilation or adaptation—continues to present itself in the case of primitive cultures, which, however poor they may be, do not lack elements that can be utilized for this purpose.

The problem of schools is today one of the most urgent in missions among primitives. For this reason, missions today boast a vast network of schools—primary, secondary, and vocational. The cooperation of missions in education was requested by colonial governments, and although this has sometimes imposed heavy sacrifices and constraints on missions to adapt to government regulations, the result has been a more consistent and effective missionary school system. It must also be noted that it is in the field of education that Catholic missions must contend with the rivalry of Protestant missions, which are often better endowed with resources.

To the work of schools is added the health activity carried out through hospitals, leper colonies, clinics, and dispensaries. Social works are also effective means of penetration. Social life, particularly in industrial and commercial centers, presents among primitives the same acute problems felt in our own countries. Especially among primitives, the norms for catechumenates prove to be highly useful and often necessary.

III. MISSIONARY METHOD IN CHINA

History presents various phases of Christianity in China, each corresponding to different methods used for the conversion of the infidels. Leaving aside the apostolic period with the supposed arrival of St. Thomas in China and even the seventh-century episode of the Nestorians (635), as evidenced by the Xi’an Stele (Shensi), the first clearly defined historical period is that which may be called the Franciscan period, so named because it was the Franciscans who ventured into the evangelization of China.

Innocent IV cited this among the reasons for convening the General Council of Lyon in 1245 and therefore sent Friar Giovanni da Pian del Carpine as legate of the Holy See to the court of the Great Khan. The other Franciscans sent to China enjoyed full freedom of propagation under the Mongol Yuan dynasty (1280–1368).

However, with the fall of the Mongol dynasty, Catholicism was swept away in the devastating whirlwind, for the new Ming dynasty viewed the religion with as much suspicion as the previous one had favored II.
In 1579, Father Matteo Ricci arrived in China. Fully aware of the enormous difficulties he would face, he conceived the bold plan of reaching the Emperor’s throne by capitalizing on the reputation of being a learned scholar and scientist. His numerous contacts with personalities in Beijing and elsewhere enabled Father Ricci to speak about religion, cultivate neophytes, and prepare new conversions. The 463 fellow missionaries—learned scientists of sixteen different nationalities, including 64 Italians—who followed in Father Ricci’s footsteps continued the work he had begun until the suppression of the Society in 1774.

The Lazarists and other religious societies and orders that later took their place adopted the same method. Thus, alongside science, they were able to teach catechism and the norms of Christian life. Unfortunately, the ill-fated controversy over the Chinese Rites (q.v.) arose, creating a new and difficult situation for the missions. As a result, Christians and their religion were seen as enemies of national rites, leading initially to the alienation of authorities and educated people, forcing the missions to turn to the countryside. Once they lost the favor of the court, the religion became associated with the secret societies that China had repeatedly proscribed; hence the persecutions that enriched the Chinese martyrology.

A new era began when, following the Opium War, England in 1841 secured the cession of Hong Kong, and together with France, through the treaties they concluded, imposed the opening of China to missionaries. Thus began the era of protectorates, and the missions took advantage of the treaties that opened paths and facilitated the means of evangelizing the vast empire. Not all governments, however, maintained a stance of perfect political neutrality; some even entertained the idea of exploiting the missions for political interests, which harmed the missions by making them suspect and attracting undeserved hostility. In any case, new times, new circumstances, and new methods had imposed themselves and borne fruit.

The year 1900 and its revolution, with all its consequences, was merely an effect of China’s resentment toward the pressures it had endured and the territorial occupations, of which the missions, though uninvolved, shared the odium. In that outburst of hatred against foreigners, there were true martyrs, recognized by the Church, but which once again call for reflection on the need to renew methods of propaganda more suited to contemporary times. Given China’s population of 400 million and an average of 100,000 conversions per year, it would take no less than 4,000 years to convert China to Christianity, assuming general conditions remained as they were in the final years of the Empire and the early years of the Republic.

With the fall of the Manchu dynasty and the consequent birth of the Republic, a substantial change occurred in China, even in contrast to its millennia-old traditions. The revolution of October 10, 1911, in Wuchang, so vaunted in its success, was merely an effect of the court’s decadence. The Republic thus found a China that was weak, exhausted, shaken, disorganized, and unprepared for such a radical regime change, which facilitated widespread brigandage.

Initially, the missions were generally respected and even became places of refuge for the population. Missionaries often acted as mediators between victors and vanquished, saving hostages from prison and death and sparing entire cities from bombardment and sack. These deeds elevated the prestige of the missions, bringing authorities and the educated and wealthy classes, as well as the poor and unsupported, closer to them. Schools were filled with students, catechumens could no longer meet the ever-growing demand, and entire villages sought conversion. Missionaries found themselves unequal to the task of sustaining such an extensive movement.

It was then that the movement initiated by Father Lebbe emerged, aiming at a moral rebirth and true faith for a China drained and exhausted. This was the optimistic current, which would certainly have achieved more practical and lasting successes had it combined zeal with greater calm and serenity of judgment and action, refrained from any political interference, and frankly acknowledged both the strengths and weaknesses of old and new China. Since steps were taken that may have been too bold, a reaction followed, motivated by the best intentions but ultimately adopting a pessimistic tone, as presented by Father Kervyn in his *Méthode de l'apostolat moderne en Chine*. Perhaps more than personal ideas, he gathered various prevailing opinions, unfortunately presenting them with such discouraging pessimism that the Sacred Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith discouraged young missionaries from reading the book.

Father Lebbe, with the movement he led, sought to highlight and put in the best light whatever in the morality, doctrine, literature, customs, character, history of China could serve as a bridge to facilitate access to Christianity, though in his enthusiasm he overlooked the deficiencies and gaps that cannot be repaired by ignoring them or deluding oneself into believing one possesses more than the nation actually had to offer. Father Kervyn swung to the opposite extreme: concerned with safeguarding doctrinal orthodoxy and the purity of morals and discipline, he believed the missionary movement had slipped onto a slippery slope toward certain ruin.

The golden mean was followed by the great majority of missionaries who, taking account of the new times and new needs, accommodated the just aspirations of their adopted homeland and, with much greater calm and tranquility, spared no efforts or sacrifices for the conversion of China. They set out to save China through the Chinese, preparing persons and environments that could not be transformed in an instant; avoiding the enormous errors committed by progressives who ruined the unfortunate Emperor Kwangsu with the Hundred Days’ Reform; resolved to make the most generous renunciations of every form of nationalism, insisting on a local clergy and bishops, as the Franciscans had already planned under the Mongols and the Jesuits and other Orders in later periods, but determined not to lose sight of the Church in that great nation until it could be considered secure in itself.

When the project to make himself emperor failed (3 Dec. 1915), Yuenshekai died almost suddenly on 6 June 1916. Political events led to the struggle between north and south and to a communist infiltration. A period of confusion and anarchy ensued, during which the missions had to fend for themselves, seeking to cultivate good relations with legitimate local authorities or with bandits in order to continue their apostolate. The war against Japan increased the difficulties, and missionary work in the various territories presented so many different aspects according to local circumstances.

According to Suenwen, the fundamental document of the new China was to be his San-min-chu-y or “Three Principles of the People.” To say nothing of the falsehoods, errors, and oddities of which Suenwen made himself the master, dogmatizing in every branch of human knowledge, the most immediate and real effect he produced was to excite and develop Chinese nationalism, though exceeding the limits of truth and practicality; and the patriotic and youth movement ended in revolutionary agitation. Moreover, in that intoxication, the young saw only the errors of Europe and of foreigners, forgetting the greater gravity of their own. This mentality and environment, formed particularly in schools and among the educated classes, also influenced the young Chinese clergy, among whom certain excesses manifested themselves that cannot be excused under the title of patriotism. An exaggerated nationalism led some of the indigenous clergy to meddle in the political sphere, from which the Church, by principle, keeps itself aloof, thereby incurring responsibilities and hatreds that could have been avoided. Another error was the belief that the local clergy could now suffice without foreign assistance. This interlude, soon closed by the good sense of the majority, had its consequences.

No one, it is well to remember, before or more than the Church had so generously recognized the just aspirations of the Chinese people, and magnificent testimony to this was given on 28 Oct. 1926 with the consecration of six Chinese bishops by the Supreme Pontiff himself. The new regime seemed to invite Catholics to take advantage of the greatly reduced freedoms to update and adapt their methods of action to the new environment. The question was studied both with regard to the population and in relation to the missionaries. Since the great mass was poor and illiterate, it was proposed to enroll all neophytes in catechumenates near the missionary in order to receive suitable instruction, Baptism, and to learn how to confess and receive Communion—things that, if they remained at home, were deferred by the great majority for ten years or more, even until death. The catechumenate would be maintained free of charge or would ask for a very small contribution.

To avoid overcrowding beyond the capacity of the premises, it was also proposed to give catechumens who studied at home a small stipend as a subsidy for the time spent in study. Those who remained in the catechumenate had to suspend their work, since study took time away from labor. For large centers, and especially cities, it was proposed to open halls for public lectures on religion, freely accessible to all. Such halls were opened in Peking, Tientsin, and other cities, but they were judged impractical and of little yield. Public debates were attempted, but it was soon seen that they were not in keeping with the Chinese spirit, and it was also noted that the method begun by Protestants of preaching in public streets took on a charlatan-like aspect that the Chinese despised. The idea of flying missions was also discussed at regional conferences presided over by Msgr. De Guebriant in 1919 as a means of compensating for the scarcity of missionaries, but a missionary always on the move, without a fixed point that could serve as a center of irradiation, produced only fleeting effects.

It was proposed to intensify the opening of schools of all levels and to effectively promote education in every respect; to multiply charitable works—orphanages, refuges, hospitals, dispensaries—and with regard to hospitals, it was noted as necessary that sisters should also take charge of obstetrics and maternity wards. It was nonetheless deemed advisable to point out that these charitable works, magnificent in themselves, should not absorb all the personnel and resources of a mission to the detriment of work among pagans; they should therefore be reduced in favor of the latter.

As a consequence of the peace treaty after the 1900 revolution, or following particular agreements made to the detriment of the missions, it was thought to perform charitable works by interceding for the remission or reduction of punishments for criminals, on the condition that they convert. This method drew criticism and produced conversions that were not always sincere or lasting. Thought was also given to updating the proximate preparation of personnel. Given the scarcity of subjects, in many missions they waited only for the arrival of a young priest to put him to work at once, after an accelerated study of the language and a cursory instruction on the environment, customs, and mores. The Protestants had set the example of assigning young arrivals to serious study, and Catholic missions had to be persuaded of the necessity of presenting men truly instructed in the Chinese language and culture. For this reason, houses of study for missionaries arose throughout China, especially in large centers, and missions decided to leave their missionaries there under the guidance of good teachers until they had mastered the written and spoken language and were well acquainted with the life, customs, and mores of the country.

While praising and acknowledging the value of so many new initiatives, the missionaries agreed that the primary and most effective method was to have numerous catechists as co-workers of the missionary and chosen from among the people. This is the quickest, easiest, most striking, least expensive method, and one that yields the most serious and lasting fruits. With a view to covering a wider field, missions opened schools and colleges for the education and instruction of catechists. The cultural field presents immense possibilities and offers to the service of religion the language, literature, art, and various industries of the country. Missions have not failed to cultivate this field not only in the past but particularly after the awakening of intense nationalism, demonstrating how the Church appreciates and knows how to value the particular culture of converted peoples. In an effort to use the culture of the Chinese people themselves as a means of leading them to the faith, learned and zealous missionaries thought, as a practical and less offensive means of sparing wounded pagan pride, that they might show how the new law they preached had already left clear traces in their classical books, held as the code of the deepest wisdom of their ancestors.

It was at the head of this school that Fr. De Prémare, a Jesuit, was placed; in a manuscript dated from Canton on 21 May 1724, he set out to demonstrate that in the ancient Chinese classical books there are traces of the principal truths of the primitive revelation. After more than forty years spent in China studying the Chinese classics in greater depth, he remained enthusiastic about the poetry of his thesis. While acknowledging the skill and noble intentions of Fr. De Prémare, scholars agree that his method is dangerous for lack of a solid foundation and that it contains more fantasy than positive reality. More practical, however, is what Fr. Alfredo Fabre suggests in his *De l'ombre à la lumière*, where he demonstrates that the Chinese people are more ritualistic than religious, and by comparing the principal manifestations of their cult—while also opportunely citing the classics, but with greater objectivity—and drawing a parallel between Chinese ritualism and Catholic ritualism, he seeks to lead the Chinese mind from paganism to Catholicism, from external worship to true worship in spirit and truth. This method, which can be usefully employed with reflective and studious persons, may be applied in whatever form society presents itself and wherever the individual may be found.

Some wondered whether it was preferable to focus on the countryside and the great mass of the people, or on the educated class and the authorities in the cities. This question had serious grounds in the early attempts to introduce religion into the vast empire. A misstep could have stifled the work from its very beginnings, while a well-judged approach could have easily resolved the immense problem. Such a question is no longer relevant after all the experience gained on the subject. The Catholic religion is known, at least by name, even in the remotest corners of the Republic. The immensity of the territory, the size of the population, the difficulties of environment, regime, and the truly exceptional circumstances in which that nation finds itself advise directing missionary action across all fields, toward all classes, in all environments, and given the very magnitude of the task before us, only in this way can we hope to obtain some fruit.

At present, China is under a communist regime. Is it prudent to speak immediately about what may still be permitted to the missions? It is no longer a question of method, but of being able to remain at all; it is no longer a matter of means, but of life.

IV. MISSIONS IN INDIA

Christianity in India dates back at least to the 5th century. Missionaries from Syria evangelized the south-western region. Today that community numbers nearly three million, more than half of whom belong to the Catholic Church and enjoy a relatively high social standing. Externally, they are perfectly Indian and have been so regarded; however, they have not taken advantage of their social position to engage in missionary work.

The second wave of Christian penetration into India began with the arrival of the Portuguese in the 16th century. Zeal and enthusiasm led to the imposition of prejudices regarding local customs and usages and to concessions that gave rise to the famous Malabar Rites controversy (v.). An intelligent policy of adaptation was undertaken by the Jesuit Fr. De Nobili and others, but it did not achieve the desired results because of the Rites controversy. In the last century, the English government introduced English education in India, and in the various Protestant and Catholic schools many Indians became acquainted with the doctrinal and moral principles of Christianity. Unfortunately, since English literature is largely Protestant, many prejudices against Catholicism infiltrated the minds of many. The greater ease of penetration led to a great development of apostolic work among the untouchables and the aboriginal tribes of certain provinces, with good results. From the history of missions in India, some conclusions of the greatest importance may be drawn. In the first place, India presents a bewildering variety of races, languages, cultural types, and civilizations. It is obvious, therefore, that missionary work must employ different methods for the different groups and social classes.

Consider the numerous group belonging to the lowest class in India, with its two subdivisions of untouchables and aborigines, which together number nearly 100 million. Among them, missionary work has met with much success. The two classic methods of approach have proved very satisfactory. The aborigines are animists, and the depressed classes are polytheists who believe in the existence of evil spirits. The subtle speculations of philosophical pantheism are not familiar to them. The grandeur of the doctrine of a transcendent God, the equality of all men before Him and the consequent rejection of every notion of untouchability, His Providence and His love for men, the beauty of the person of Our Lord, above all the message of the beauty and importance of suffering in human life, immediately touch the hearts of these simple people, impressing them indelibly. Their great poverty and manifold physical sufferings make them the object of Christian charity, whose works of assistance constitute a great means of apostolate. Today, however, the missionary value of these works of material beneficence has greatly diminished. The loss of a large number of persons who might have been absorbed by Hinduism has alarmed Hindu leaders. One of the programmatic lines of the reformed Hinduism of the 19th century, shared by almost all the new groups—the Brāhmā Sāmāj, Ārya Samāj, and the Theosophical Society—has been the suppression of caste and untouchability. Moreover, the development of the political movement and democratic ideas, independent of religious considerations, has given a great impetus to the work for the regeneration of the untouchables, crowned by the formal abolition of untouchability by the Constituent Assembly of India. It is therefore clear that these unhappy peoples no longer feel the same impulse to embrace Catholicism as in past years. Nevertheless, it would be a serious mistake to underestimate the missionary value of charitable works, which make the warmth of Christian charity and the profound human sympathy that the untouchables desire far more than material well-being felt. Even among the higher classes, works of Christian charity have great apostolic value because they always bear witness to the tender charity of Our Lord.

Past experience leads to another conclusion: it is necessary, as far as possible, to avoid a direct attack on the beliefs and practices of non-Christian religions, for this robs the preacher of the aura of sympathy without which the truths of faith ordinarily fail to penetrate deeply. Moreover, it is generally true that beliefs, customs, and practices are almost always more complex and harder to understand fully than a superficial acquaintance might suggest. If the opponent gains the impression that he has not been understood or that his case has not been presented accurately, every argument will have only a mediocre effect upon him. Catholic apostolate must avoid every condemnatory tactic, limiting itself to courteous correction when required by truth, and should chiefly devote itself to an attractive exposition of the luminous truth of which it is the messenger.

To what extent is adaptation of Christian thought and practice to non-Christian beliefs permissible? Without doubt, the acceptance and retention of the aesthetic and intellectual aspects of non-Catholic cultures is not only permissible but essential, even to avoid the isolation of converts from the rest of their fellow countrymen. The consequences would always be sad, even when converts desire such separation and cultural change for any reason.

Thus the system of adaptation to Indian culture introduced by Fr. De Nobili was a wise and necessary step. Converts of De Nobili, as well as converts today in the territories where he worked, externally do not differ from other Hindus. They wear the same clothing; they bear the same names or Sanskrit and Tamil renderings of Hebrew and Latin names similar to Hindu names; they have long hair tied in tufts and earrings. Brahmin converts are strictly vegetarian, wear the scapular in the form of the sacred cord, and use caste marks, to the surprise of modern Europeans. On this last point a word of explanation is necessary. There is no doubt that the maintenance and persistence of caste marks among Tamil Christians went beyond the intentions of De Nobili. In particular, the separation within the Church itself of the group of converts from the depressed classes was a survival that the early pioneers did not foresee. In our own day of social reform among Hindus and of the abolition of untouchability, this Christian caste separatism has caused some scandal and, instead of aiding conversions, has constituted an obstacle. The ecclesiastical authorities have recognized this and acted vigorously to abolish these distinctions, not without opposition from caste Christians. It must, however, be admitted that among converts from Portuguese missionaries such a practice does not exist.

But cultural and social adaptation does not exhaust the problem. A graver question remains: the adaptation of philosophical and religious doctrines, that is, the effort to present Christian truths using the concepts and phraseology current in the highest Hindu thought and practice. This movement seems to go far beyond the ideas of adaptation proposed at the outset by Fr. De Nobili. A clear demonstration of such a method is found in the book of Fr. Johanns, *To Christ through the Vedanta*, and in the pamphlet of Fr. I. B. Pessien, *The Vedanta vindicated*. In this regard, it is easy to accept the language of devotion and to adapt to Christian use the tone and spirit of certain hymns common among Hindus, in which the concept of God and His human manifestations is often closer to Christian thought. Indeed, among Christians of Marathi origin, some perfectly Christian popular hymns are closely modeled on devotional hymns of Tukaram, Namdev, and other devotees of Vithoba. Moreover, it may be said that a good portion of Christian poetry in Tamil is based on the work of Tamil Saivites and on the hymns of the celebrated Tyagaraja.

The crucial problem is always the adaptation of philosophical and doctrinal truths. Can the religious and philosophical speculations of the great Acharyas, Sankara, Ramanuja, Madhva, and their followers be adapted to Christianity, as the thought of Plato and Aristotle was adapted? The present stage of the discussion does not permit a definitive answer. Some considerations, however, may be set forth. First, it must not be forgotten that, despite certain divergences among the different schools of Indian philosophy and the existence of a limited number of ancient and modern adherents to strict monotheism, the pantheistic conception of God is one of the predominant aspects of Indian philosophy. These ambiguities make it very difficult for the Christian believer to be sure whether the concepts hidden behind certain terms such as God, sin, Providence—common to both systems—are identical. It is obvious that pantheistic ambiguities render certain intellectual and moral dispositions, essential for the act of faith required in Christianity, difficult for the Hindu. On this point, adaptation must not lead to any confusion of ideas.

Second, one of the greatest obstacles to the conversion of the cultured Hindu upper class to Christianity is the concept of religion, vaguely current earlier in Hindu circles and now specifically and emphatically taught by Hindu leaders such as Ramakrishna and Mahatma Gandhi, according to which religions are schools of spirituality, means to attain union with God, and just as there are different methods and schools of spirituality to achieve this union, so the different religions are all of equal value in attaining this goal. For an educated Hindu today, Christianity is not a false religion, but a great and good religion suited to the genius and culture of the European people, while his own is more suited to the genius and culture of the Indian people. Now any apologetic method tending to confirm or encourage such an attitude toward the entire religious question cannot be defended.

Third, there does not exist between India and Europe the great cultural and psychological difference noted between peoples of European origin and civilization and the peoples of other civilizations, especially those of the Far East, which is adduced as a reason and justification for complete adaptation. The majority of the peoples of India belong to the Aryan race. They speak languages derived from the common Aryan stock; for the past 120 years they have had a European system of education that has shaped their concepts of art and philosophy; in their entirety they accept the methods, conclusions, and system of expression common to modern European scientific research and are familiar with the categories of thought current in European philosophy. They can, therefore, understand and absorb the great theses of European Christian philosophy without great difficulty.

It follows that India, in its preparation to receive the faith, has less need of a Christian philosophy than of a correct and complete transmission of the central ideas of Christian philosophy, which constitute the "praambula fidei." For the past hundred years, the great means placed in the hands of Catholic missionaries to achieve this has been the school. The demand for education is growing to such an extent that the government, with its resources, is unable to satisfy II. Recourse is had to private initiatives and even to missionaries to undertake educational works of a university type, which are aided by generous financial assistance. The great Christian educational institutions have not only gained a social and personal influence that has placed them in a position of esteem during India’s days of independence, but have also accomplished indispensable work in philosophical preparation, which seems absolutely necessary before Indian intellectuals can fully accept the Christian faith. It must therefore be concluded that higher education for a number of non-Catholic students is not only a particular aspect of missionary work in India today, but also an important means of the same in the country.

Here, a consideration arises from the concept of religion as a method or school of prayer and union with God. It is not difficult to demonstrate that even on the basis of this partial and insufficient concept of religion, Christianity has a claim to superiority over other religions. To this end, the dissemination of the lives of Catholic saints and of Christian holiness in general is destined to make a profound impression on the minds of Hindus. India bows before examples of holiness. In the scale of values, the saint still ranks above the soldier and the statesman. The immense prestige exercised by Mahatma Gandhi among his fellow citizens was due principally to the fact that he embodied in an imposing manner the Indian type of the saint. Indians read avidly the lives of Christian saints. Perhaps this opportunity has not been fully exploited. Every pious exaggeration must be avoided, and instead reliance must be placed on scientific investigation and careful presentation in order to gain a decisive advantage over the mentality of modern times, in comparison with the stories of ascetics of two and of fakirs. If it can be shown that Christianity is the most effective school of holiness, a great step will have been taken toward the acceptance of Christianity as absolute truth. The Catholic Truth Societies, newspapers, periodicals, and publishing houses can work toward this end with great profit.

But more effective than the history of lives lived in the past and in distant places are the examples of holiness that Catholic missionaries can and must provide. As has already been said, India admires the saint, and in its concept of holiness, asceticism and mortification occupy a very important place. Without fear of exaggeration, it can be said that nothing more weakens the cause of missionary work and diminishes the possibilities of Catholic propagation than the observation that Catholic missionaries, who have renounced the world and correspond to the Hindu "sanyasi," live a life that seems similar to that of the English rulers and other European "sahibs."

Certainly, although austerity is a relative matter, it cannot be denied that many European missionaries live a hard and mortified life, but their secret abnegation is often unknown to an unsympathetic observer. In India, as elsewhere, it is not enough to be just; justice must also appear to be practiced. Similarly, it is not enough that a man be truly holy; his holiness must appear and shine before men. In that country, there is no room for human respect regarding religious practices. Prayer, mortification, and austerity of life are things that are admired and should not be hidden among the glories of Christianity. When all other methods have failed, when discussions about the merits of this or that method of adaptation seem to lead nowhere, one fundamental truth remains: to lead souls to God and to Christ, one must live in a deep and clear union with God and with Christ.

In the vast territory of India, apart from Islam, alongside Hinduism, there are also signs of Buddhism, Jainism, and Zoroastrianism. This fact shows that, contrary to general assumption, India is not a country of tenacious religious conservatism. Among the adherents of these religions, the missionary method must not differ from that considered best among high-caste Hindus.

V. M. M. in Japan. — To understand the problems of missionary work in Japan, one must first penetrate Japanese psychology, especially in the light of the various ideologies that have nourished the spiritual life of the Japanese. These ideologies have not resolved themselves, in the soul of the people, into successive stratifications. Confucianism does not exclude the pre-existing Shintoism; Buddhism was able to coexist with Shintoist or Confucian beliefs, in the name of that broad tolerance, that curious syncretism, which drives the Japanese to experiment with everything in order to absorb everything, convinced that absolute truth does not exist and that relative truths are all susceptible of perfection. Thus, the history of religions in Japan is, in essence, the history of the progressive fusion of Confucianism and, in particular, Buddhism, on the basis of ancient beliefs that pre-existed the spread of these foreign religions.

Confucianism, which reached Japan from China around the 3rd century A.D., and its highly elaborate norms constituted the premise of the psychological development of the Japanese. The courtesy, patriotism, and respect for hierarchies and constituted authority—feelings so vivid in the Japanese—have their roots in this ancient code of honor and social morality, in which, however, there is no trace of an ethics that justifies the metaphysical reasons for these norms.

In the 6th century, Buddhism, already widespread in the Far East, penetrated Japan from Korea and took hold among the upper classes through the efforts of Prince Shōtoku (572–621). It supplanted Confucianism and Shintoism, replacing them with the leaven of a more mature and ancient civilization and introducing Japan to the concept of the afterlife. By assuming an attitude most suited to the Japanese *forma mentis*, Buddhism began by assimilating Shintoism and, within a relatively short time, so intelligently and flexibly integrated itself into Japanese life that it became indissolubly bound to II. Soon it had created a way of life from which the Japanese could no longer be diverted.

Yet this state of affairs does not present an insurmountable obstacle to conversion. It is not difficult to accept and embrace the refined poetry of certain manifestations that, in the final analysis, have long since lost any religious meaning. Today, in fact, while Buddhism maintains its position in the countryside and in the well-developed cities, it has almost completely emptied itself of authentic religious feeling, assuming instead the complex appearance of a pantheistic philosophy. Even the intellectual monks are rarely believers, and those who are believers are superstitious and ignorant. Yet the divine ferment of spiritual unrest exists and is evidenced by the rise, proliferation, and affirmation of superstitious beliefs such as Tenri-kyō, Hitonomichi, Ōmoto-kyō, and others.

The greatest obstacle to Christianity, rather, is presented by the materialism that lurks within Buddhism as within Confucianism, and by the lack of a consciousness of universal and absolute values—a lack that is the fruit of that hymn to cultism by which Japan still appears today as the immense crucible of the most disparate ideas in a continual phase of adaptation and transformation. Nevertheless, as early as 1549, St. Francis Xavier wrote that it was “a joy” to sow the divine word among that people, so eager for moral equilibrium and spiritual certainties.

A fervent apostolic activity then united missionaries and people in a single impulse (v. Evangelizzazione). When Meiji opened the country’s borders (1868) to Western civilization, the Japanese people easily mastered the technical secrets of the Western world but found it difficult to assimilate the fruits of its millennial philosophy. It was above all utilitarianism, scientific positivism, and modernism that penetrated the Japanese soul. Moreover, Protestants, through their schools and the press, cast Catholicism in a bad light and succeeded in winning over various members of the educated class.

Catholics had also arrived in Japan, though without the resources of the Protestants and without the support of the prestige of a great European Catholic elite. Although the Constitution of 1889 guaranteed freedom of worship, opposition to Catholicism was strong everywhere—in progressive cities as well as in the countryside tenaciously clinging to ancestral traditions. Catholics struggled—and continue to struggle—on two fronts: against the advance of progressive theories and the tenacious defense of the ideological positions of the past. The efforts of the missionaries, and in particular of the Fathers of the Paris Foreign Missions, who practically laid the foundations of the Japanese Church, were enormous. The Marianists founded the first Catholic school; many others followed until, in 1913, the Jesuits established the first Catholic university.

Yet nationalist sentiment was stronger than ever. Having defeated Russia, Japan believed in its invincibility. The militarists took advantage of this to suppress the weak opposition of the intellectual class, steeped in liberalism, and insensibly secured the levers of command, leading ultimately to the final catastrophe.

In 1945, with its myths shattered, its patriotic ideals humiliated, and its national pride broken, the Japanese people found itself facing the most terrifying tragedy in its history, in indescribable conditions of material and moral destitution. Only Christianity can fill the fearful void of its soul, but whoever believed they could win Japan for God by taking advantage of the advantages offered by the present situation would fall into a fatal error, for the soul of a people does not change by decree in a short span of years. In this soul, darkly seething, the old ferment of unrest remains. If Shintoism, as a national religion, is prohibited, if Confucianism appears remote and outdated, if Buddhism crystallizes into the vain repetition of rites consecrated by tradition, there remain, in the darkest depths of the Japanese soul, all their sediment. Against these sediments, against the utilitarian and opportunistic sense, against old and new materialism, against the ideology of Marxism on the march, Catholic missionaries must struggle. A difficult task that requires precise knowledge of a situation that is not merely the product of recent events but has deep roots and is the sum of all that has been set forth above.

First of all, it is necessary to show the Japanese people that Catholicism is not in the wake of any political power nor is it a foreign religion of foreigners, for, by its very nature, it transcends every racial or national frontier. Moreover, when the force of the spirit has vanquished the worship of matter, when alongside the narrow vision of truths pertaining to matter there arises the other vision of truths pertaining to the spirit, then the Japanese soul will be ready to receive the Catholic faith.

Both [Christianity and Islam] are heirs and authors of highly original civilizations that only rarely express themselves in the common languages of the two worlds in presence.

Islam holds the conviction that it possesses within itself the salvation of each man and of all men. Nothing is awaited from without save the danger of corruption and debasement. This is a very strong assertion, full of consequences in its simplicity, yet one which many non-Muslims still struggle to comprehend. Without doubt, the Qur’an contains generous words for the “People of the Book,” Jews and Christians, who have benefited from the written Revelation; yet it reserves harsh words for those who have failed to preserve the Revelation faithfully. They have altered and falsified their sacred books. It must be admitted that when the Qur’an criticizes Christian dogmatic positions, it does so because it takes into account the doctrines of the Christian sects that proliferated in Arabia at the time of Muhammad. The criticisms are often justified. Nevertheless, the profound respect for the Prophet and wonder-worker Jesus, son of Mary, instilled by the Qur’an itself, has endured in Islam and has deeply impressed popular sentiment, which knows and venerates not only the person of Jesus but also the central point of Christian doctrine, namely, the precept of goodness and mercy (Sura 57:26).

Unfortunately, the world of Islam, taken as a whole, sees a Christian world long divided and engaged in the conquest of other peoples, especially Muslims. It has known the Church rather externally, in an unpleasant confusion of politics and religion, and ignores—or could not admit, even if it knew—the continuity of Jesus and the Church, and that the Church is the Mystical Body of Christ. Moreover, following the Qur’an, it rejects as a grave impiety toward divine transcendence the dogma of the Incarnation. Hence, mutual understanding in doctrinal and practical matters proves exceedingly delicate and difficult.

When Christians first became acquainted with Islam, they immediately adopted a defensive stance to safeguard Christian doctrine, and the literature is not free from sarcasm or violent attacks. This approach has persisted to our own day, so that one is the enemy of the other. History records that Christians, theologians, and religious sought by various means to make known to Muslims the true doctrinal thought of the Church. Their efforts, however, remained practically fruitless. It was necessary to await the 19th century and the historical circumstances of a new effort by the Church to extend itself into certain regions recently opened to Western penetration, especially in Africa, in order to confront the true problem of rapprochement. It Lavigerie (v.) to have emphasized that the difficulty of encounter is fundamentally doctrinal in nature, but in reality depends on prejudices and obstacles of a psychological order. The true means to make oneself understood is for the Church, through Christians and above all through its priests and missionaries, to present itself as the heir and continuer of Jesus, who left His disciples with the single precept of charity. Only through charity will Muslims recognize them as faithful to their Master and to the Gospel and worthy of their trust.

“The message which you have heard from the beginning is that you should love one another” (1 Jn 3:11). It is this message that Muslims await from the Church as testimony. This is what the Qur’an says, and what simple country folk often repeat to Christians: “What we expect from you is mercy and goodness.”

The word “charity” must summarize the entire reason for the Church’s presence and action among peoples not subject to its obedience. Therefore, its first quality must be disinterestedness. If the witness of Christ among Muslims wishes to be a conqueror, a fighter who charges ahead, it is better for him and for the Church that he remain at home. Instead, he must be a witness to Christ and be such for his entire life. In particular, he must maintain complete independence from temporal powers, manifest sovereign respect for autonomous societies and their structures and for the civilizations in which they live and that have been created or reformed by Islam. It is equally necessary to respect efforts toward social progress and movements toward one or another form of civilization, even if inspired by Christian spirit, for this is not the affair of the Church. All the more should the Christian show sincere love for the religious sentiment of those men who do not share his faith but who are nonetheless men of faith. One must, therefore, love them as they are and not insofar as they resemble us.

More positively, the witnesses of the Church before Muslims must assume their responsibilities so that material progress, brought by the West, does not become an occasion to ruin moral and spiritual life. A complete overturning of all structures of social and individual life is underway. Modern technology and economics are destroying the traditional frameworks that sustained the efficacy of Islamic precepts of moral and religious life. Everything risks being brutally swept away.

How can the Church practically assume its share of responsibility? Primarily, by awakening or creating a new spirit among the Christian minorities in Muslim countries, that is, a spirit authentically Christian and Catholic. If these minorities were to close themselves off in a spirit of superiority, they should be encouraged to open themselves to their surroundings: to ensure that the collaborations or contacts they have sought on the political or economic plane are also established on a human level. Even at the cost of true heroism, they should adopt an attitude of justice based on the fundamental equality of all men as creatures of God and loved by their Creator, and an attitude of charity that obliges them to dedicate themselves to others even at personal sacrifice, sincerely convinced that he who has received more must give more. It is easily understood that such an effort, demanded of Christians, requires special and arduous formation.

Moreover, Christian monasticism, with its practice of a life of worship and contemplation, can attract to Christianity broad currents of sympathy and trust. Worthy of special note, however, are those religious congregations whose members consecrate their lives to the world of Islam in a pure movement of charity. They will show great respect for the opinions and behaviors of those whose life they wish to share. Hence, they will adopt their customs, gestures, language, and culture to the extent possible. Through their language and culture, they will seek to grasp their psychology and mentality. With great care, they will highlight all points of history or philosophical or religious doctrine common to Muslims and Christians.

In this regard, it is indispensable to recall that the Muslim community reacts with pride against any external attempt, seeing in it a threat and a will to attack what it holds most sacred. Now, the Church has been sent to save, not to destroy, to bring completion to what is purest in the aspirations of these peoples, who are in any case ready to accept what does not require them to lose what they possess. The witness of the Church, therefore, will not limit itself to knowing who Muslims are; through wise adaptation, it will walk with them in all that is morally legitimate, until it is admitted—indeed, required—to make its contribution of new riches. It is easy to understand that such a view, such generous adaptation, makes of the missionary an educator who teaches.