Priestly Experience in Hingurakgoda, Sri Lanka

Fernando, R. (2021, December 18). Priestly experience in Hingurakgoda: Part II. Daily FT. https://www.ft.lk/harmony_page/Priestly- experience-in-Hingurakgoda-Part-II/10523-727751

Priestly Experience in Hingurakgoda, Sri Lanka

It brings always joy to recall my first-ever pastoral experience in Hingurakgoda church in the very first year of my priesthood. 

Upasaka Thaththa in Mission House

It was 16^th September 2017, the first day of my arrival at Christ the King Church, Hingurakgoda. The first sight I had ever had of the place elated my spirit in that pleasant morning. An elderly person dressed in a white sarong with absolutely nothing to cover his torso was sweeping the compound just the way I have seen it being done by the samaneras (novices) and monks in the temple with quiet composure, serenity, and art. “I was told about your coming, Father. Have you eaten?” was the first-ever welcoming words I heard of anybody of that place and I am happy that they came from that upasaka thaththa (worshipful elder) who had some drops of sweat on his chest while speaking to me. ‘Could there be any better way to welcome a stranger than inquiring whether or not he or she is full’, I wondered. 

This mature being whom I soon learned about as the cook of the lagum ge (mission house) was an unmarried elder in his late 60s who had once been a monk in his youth. It was a different joy altogether to share the space with him in the same lagum ge. He was more than a cook to me. There was hardly anybody in the whole of 550 odd families in that church who had not drunk a cup of tea or eaten a piece of biscuit that this person has offered, often against the rule of the Fathers, because the observation of one hour of fasting before the Holy Mass is encouraged for all Catholics as a preparation for receiving the most precious body and blood of Christ during the celebration of the Holy Eucharist. His justification for doing so, more sneakily than overtly, was as simple and humane as ever: “Where on earth do people go to temples and churches having had their full? They all come not only to fill their souls but also their bellies. Don’t they, Father?” I was dumbfounded at his human-centeredness and I had nothing more to say than to nod affirmatively, “Why not, thaththta!” It has often been noted that he was the first person, even before the priest, to visit whosoever he heard of been hospitalized in the village for one reason or another, be it a pregnant mother, a sick child, or an ailing elder, etc. regardless of his or her faith. All of these visits he made were never empty-handed. He made sure to fetch something or the other from the mission house to take to that sufferer, be it a towel, a packet of milk or biscuits, etc. 

This devoted elder died on the way to Ederamulla during the Christmas octave in 2017 as he was going to see his beloved babies of a Christian household where he had worked earlier. There too he was found carrying a box of Christmas edibles collected from the mission house to be given to that family. The scene created at his burial in Kegalle, the far interior of a rubber estate, should be recounted. There was an extra enthusiasm of the Hingurakgoda parishioners to participate in this virtuous being’s last rights. Upon arrival at the place, almost at the time for pansekule (final rights according to the Buddhist rituals), we found this upasaka thaththa, dressed in a white sarong and a white shirt, lying in a very ordinary coffin with hardly anybody to cry over his death. It was however difficult for the Hingurakgoda parishioners to hide their tears. The priests were the first ones to burst into tears no sooner than they saw their feeder. Then the congregation joined, and I saw those babies and their parents too (confirmation of which I had much later) weeping hideously. As we were about to depart, the key organizer of the funeral household approached me and asked: “Sir, nobody cried from our side over his death, but from the time you all came, you have been crying unceasingly. What has he done so much that all you feel for him so much? It wasn’t the time for a lengthy explanation of what this noble person has been and done to us. Nevertheless, he should be witnessed. Thus, recalling chapter 25 of St. Mathiew’s gospel, I said: “We were hungry, and he gave us to eat. We were thirsty, he gave us to drink. We were sick and hospitalized, and he came to see us”.

Christmas Carols in Bana Shalawa  

In the same year, the Hungurakgoda church had an issue finding a place to have its annual Christmas carols. The next-door school hall (as it had usually been done in the past) too had become a no-entry zone for us because of its preoccupation with the GCE O/L exam preparations. Christmas was approaching and the children in the church were getting ready for their big day of the year. It was during this time that I paid a visit to the Hingurakgoda Buddhist temple as it was customary for me to visit the chiefs of co-denominations at the locality wherever I am and serve during the time of Christmas. This, I believe, is something that my family upbringing has bestowed on me. It is because at home we have been trained from our childhood to share food with our neighbors irrespective of their faiths, religions, beliefs, etc. during the time of Christmas and the Sinhala Tamil New Year. In my conversation with the chief monk that day, it happened that the issue of the concert hall that the church was facing popped out of my mouth. “Don’t worry Father. You can come and have the concert in the bana shalawa (temple hall). And for your tea, I will arrange fish buns for everybody. How many of you?” I became speechless. 

With joy, I came back to the church and recounted the good news to the church congregation which felt relieved. But there was a concern. “Father, what about that huge Buddha statue kept on the stage of the bana shalawa?” asked a person of mixed marriage who was familiar with both the environments in the temple as well as in the church. “Will not Lord Buddha be happy to see our children singing, dancing, performing, and shouting on the stage?” I asked. “But Father, we have to make the crib there as well” another added. “True, we’ll make it. I think it’s not that Lord Buddha and Jesus cannot live together on the same platform. Rather, it is we who cannot see them living together, not only on the stage but also in our day-to-day lives”, I was determined. 

It wasn’t however the first encounter I have had with the chief monk of the Hingurakgoda temple. Before that day, we had several occasions frequenting each other, during the time of the annual temple perahara (street procession), Sinhala-Tamil New Year, Ayurudu Uthsawaya, etc. with mutual support, invitations, and reservations. To name a few, while it has been the tradition of the youth association of the church to organize a dansala (almsgiving) during the time of perahara and on the day of Wesak, during the year of my stay in Hingurakgoda, the same dansala was conducted, but differently, in the form of shramadana launched to plant flag poles along the main street of the perahara. This was also participated by the young novices of the Jesuit Order who happened to be in the church at that time for their pastoral experiment.  

Rice, Seasons, and Life

The agricultural landscape in Hingurakgoda in the ancient waw badi rajye (kingdom of tanks) of Rajarata is seasonal. However, these seasons I found were not according to how they are being considered in Europe, or America, or elsewhere in the world. Rather, they were based on the rhythm of the activities attached to people’s main occupation - rice cultivation. 

When the fields were getting ready for sawing, it is the season of hard labor, plowing, and tilling the ground which I would call the gray season after the color of the fields, the color of the plowed earth. During this season, it is often hard to find men regular in the church or the temple. Then comes the vegetative phase of the rice plants which, according to me, is the green season, again after the color of the fields. It involves relatively less labor and, hence, more time for one’s personal, familial, social, and worship activities such as Sunday Mass, temple rituals, etc. The following season, according to me, is the blue season characterized by the reproductive phase of the rice plants. It is blue because of the anxiety that the season brings in. People are anxious during this stage of farming as to whether or not the plants would open up, be attacked by the insects, be destroyed by the elephant, or be supported with enough and regular water supply, etc. In short, during this season, they are anxious about protecting what they have labored for and maximizing the gain. It has been my experience in the church that adults are often reluctant to commit themselves to common responsibilities during this season because they need time for themselves to deal with the anxieties of life. Finally comes the harvest time or the golden season, named once again after the very color of the fields. It is during this season that one generally sees many smiling faces, loud talking of people, the town becoming increasingly active, people getting organized, family events, communal functions, and village carnivals being organized, and the church and the temple getting crowded. 

Thus, the seasons of life associated with the rhythm of people’s major livelihood in Hingurakgoda have a direct and significant influence on their religious observances and adherence to faith-related activities, thus witnessing the age-old symbiotic system of living in Sri Lanka known as Gamai, Pansalai, Wewai, Dagabai (Village, Temple School, Tank, Shrine). It was indeed important for me to be aware of the dynamics of these seasons to understand why people in Hingurakgoda behaved the way they did whether in the church, or the temple, or elsewhere in the village. 

Finally, one of the unifying factors I have experienced among the people of Hingurakgoda is their augmenting willingness to coexist with other faiths within and outside the marriage which is nonetheless not without troubles altogether. While visiting families and attending the funerals of both Catholics as well as Buddhists of the place, I had ample opportunities to experience their harmonious living, collective struggles, difficulties, and pains, as well as joys in life. I still remember the day when the parishioners came to know about my living in the lagum ge without a cook after the sudden death of that upasaka thaththa. The ones who became increasingly troubled upon realizing it, if I am not mistaken, were those in mixed marriages who got themselves hurriedly organized to bring meals to the church as it is been done in the temple by way of giving alms to saffron bearers who have voluntarily chosen the path to nibbana (enlightenment).