Learning Generosity from India's Poorest Souls
by Rev. Maynard Pittendreigh

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Note: Maynard Pittendreigh attended CCES from 1960 - 1966 until he moved with his family to Georgia. Recently, he found us on the web and submitted this story and photos.

Sometimes a change of plans is a wonderful blessing from God. I had been in India for several weeks, visiting mostly rural churches. One Sunday I was told that I would be preaching in a Western style church. "Very British," was the way it had been described. "Lots of pews, stained glass windows, and even a restroom! You must dress for the occasion. They will expect you to wear a long sleeve shirt, but no clerical collar." Christians are often in danger in India. In fact, I'd carefully followed instructions to list on my visa application that my occupation was "teacher" rather than "clergy." I like to think that each is just as true as the other.

At the last minute, my hosts decided that I should preach at a church in a New Delhi slum. There were no pews. People sat on the floor. There were no stained glass windows -- just some openings for the light to enter. As for the restroom, like many of the churches I'd been visiting, the toilet was the sidewalk.

I've seen poverty before. In Haiti, poverty is very broad -- everyone is poor. In the mountains of Tennessee, I've seen people who knew the pain of being poor in a nation that is rich. But I'd never seen poverty such as this. Here in America, poverty is defined for a family of two as having less than $12,000 per year. In India, it is defined as having less than one full meal per day. I'm told that in America, 60 percent of the poor own a VCR.

The church was in a community of poorly constructed tents, made of molding, rotting cloth. Everything was jammed together. There was hardly any room to walk between the tents. There was no public water system, nor was there a community well that I'd often seen in the rural villages of India. People drank water that was running along the gutters of the streets. The people of this slum were the "untouchables" of India -- members of the lowest caste in the nation.

And in the midst of this slum was a little church. It was nothing more than a concrete block building of four walls with a doorway. The roof was nothing more than some metal sheeting laid on the top of the building.

It measured about 10 feet wide and 20 feet long. The altar at my church in America was almost that large. Inside there were 30 people. They danced for me when I arrived and gave me a garland of flowers to wear around my neck. It was the same in every church I'd visited in India, and I knew at the end of the day I'd be given a bottle of warm Pepsi to drink. The church members were all crammed together, sitting on the floor. They gave me a plastic lawn chair to sit in at the front of the church. If I had crossed my legs, I would have knocked out three people on the front row.

Rev. Pittendreigh, shown with the pastor of the church and his wife.

We did everything Christians do in worship.

We sang.

We prayed.

I preached with an interpreter.

And there was an offering.

These were the poorest people I'd ever met. But when it was time for the offering, every single person gave. They gave eagerly. They reached and strained to put their tiny coins into the offering. I wondered what value a coin might have. A bottle of water cost about 150 rupees in India, and the smallest bills I'd seen were 10 rupee denominations. The coins must truly be a widow's mite.

One lady had no money. She gave a single, tiny bag of rice. After the service, I asked what they used the offering for.

The church was raising money for a Bible. The church taught literacy classes and the members wanted a Bible people could use. They were new Christians longing to read God's Word. In my church in America, one of our members had just donated a pulpit Bible that cost over $300. This church was hoping for a $2 paperback.

Part of the offering was to go to the minister's salary. It grieved me as a minister to know the feast I receive in my salary compared to whatever crumbs my Indian brother might be paid for his ministry.

And then part of that offering goes to feed the poor. Feed the poor? I can't imagine that there are people more impoverished than these folks!

I asked about the lady who gave the bag of rice. I was told she had no money to give. But IF she had food to eat during the day, she would carefully measure out the food and set some of it aside. Every day - IF she had food to eat, part of it was set aside for the offering. A tenth of it. A tithe. And on Sunday, when she came to church, she would bring her bag of rice as an offering - so it could be used to feed the poor. In the photo at the top of this page, she is seating in the center, wearing pink.

Imagine doing that on Monday, and Tuesday, and Wednesday, and Thursday and Friday. Imagine not having any food at all on Saturday.

You might think, "Church is tomorrow, but there on the table is the rice I've been setting aside every day." It would be tempting to reach into the bag and cook that rice. Skip church. Or go to church and skip the offering. But no, she never did that.

The pastor told me she always brought the bag of rice.

What amazing generosity! Here in India, the poor are feeding those who are poorer than themselves. Meanwhile, back at home, our generosity is often held back by the concept of "later." We'll give -- later. When our expenses are down, we'll give. When we make more money, we'll give.

I'm back in America now, but I am haunted by India. I keep thinking of that one woman and I wonder. When will Americans have so much that we will be able to afford to be as wealthy as that one woman has become?

You may visit Rev. Pittendreigh's web page at www.Pittendreigh.com. There are more photos from his visit to India at http://community.webshots.com/album/260975325dUowqO