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JOSHUA'S NEW ARK
"HOME OF HOPE"
By Arbutus Sider
The following
article was written in reflection after CBE’s recent
co-sponsored symposium in Bangalore, India. Many conference
attendees had the opportunity to meet with Christians in
Bangalore and to see their ministries. This is one of their
stories.
As a young man
Raja’s job required him to travel around the busy downtown
streets of Bangalore on his motorized rickshaw. Although
cleverly maneuvering in and out of multiple chaotic traffic
lanes, Raja always had one worried eye on a disturbing sight at
the side of the road—the homeless human beings lying helpless
and alone day after day on the sidewalks. Sometimes it would be
a woman nursing her baby; sometimes she would be cooking a
little food over a makeshift fire on the sidewalk. Often it
would be a man, just lying there waiting to die. Or perhaps he
was already dead. Day after day Raja noticed and grieved. “Help
me find a way to show them your love, O Jesus,” became his
constant prayer. And little by little God enabled him to answer
his own prayer.
At first Raja picked
up one or two in his “motor-rick” and cared for them under his
small carport. Little by little he found larger facilities.
Eventually a Christian organization, Campus Crusade, gave him
the land and facility where we visited him. Two police officers
became his allies, helping him identify and transport others who
were homeless. A van became the ambulance to bring them to their
new home. Joshua Raja, as he is now called, loves and cares for
two hundred people in this facility. For many it is a hospice,
and a few die—with dignity—each month. Others soon take their
place in what has become known as “The New Ark.” Church groups
willingly give J Raja their money, but few have the stamina to
stay and help with the work. I understand why. The facility is
rustic and crowded. The short lifespan of many seems to leave
little time to bring beauty to the environment. Perhaps two
dozen persons lounge around the front yard or on a cement patio.
Just inside the gate a man was cementing a section of the
walkway as we entered. I did not notice children, but another
visitor spoke with a child who was the daughter of the
founder/director. The family lives there too.
What I did notice
was that living on the streets had taken its toll on these
guests. Many seemed mentally ill or disabled in some way. Yet I
also recall some making eye contact, as though welcoming love
and acceptance. It was a confirmation of trust restored in
fellow human beings; a confirmation of Joshua Raja’s genuine
love for his “family.”
Once inside the
building, the eight or nine of us unannounced visitors were
welcomed into a small office with just enough room for two
donated desks and the folding chairs that were hastily brought
in for us to sit on. The walls were liberally sprinkled with
pictures of residents, staff, or visitors. A male assistant sat
at one desk and J Raja at the other. We were told there are no
more than ten staff, and it was not clear if any of the
permanent staff had medical training. Certainly J Raja got all
his training on the job.
Completely unfazed
by the fact that we had not made an appointment ahead of time, J
Raja said he would begin introducing the ministry with a video.
Wham! Immediately we were hit with a wave of images accompanied
by a narrated script that told the story of one homeless person
after another being picked up and carried by J Raja, sometimes
with the help of another person, and carefully placed into his
van to be brought “home” to the New Ark. Each one was personally
and lovingly cared for, washed, and clothed. The pictures of
wounds, sometimes untreated for so long that maggots were eating
away at the flesh, some down to the bone, were so disturbing to
me that I averted my eyes. My eyes stayed fixed, though, on a
segment showing a deranged woman running down the street naked.
As she became more subdued by kindness and was brought to her
new home, J Raja washed her wounds as well. One of her toes had
become infected because of a ring on it that signified a
marriage. Though he tried with daily dressings to bring about
healing, he was unsuccessful, and the video showed him
amputating part of her toe to save the foot. Later the video
showed her happily learning to walk again. Each “before” story
of homelessness and illness was followed by the “after” images
of health and healing; of hope and belonging.
I have not seen up
close the work of Mother Theresa. But now I have seen the work
of “Father” Joshua Raja—a self-sacrificial work of love on
behalf of the most marginalized in society, in the name of
Jesus. “Inasmuch as you have done it to the least of these….”
Humbly I admitted to myself that I could not do such work.
Silently I thanked God for the Mother Theresas and the Joshua
Rajas who can, and do.
In true western
style I found myself in an internal dialog asking all the
skeptical questions: How can he do it with no medical training?
Is it safe? Is it legal? What are his real motivations? What ego
trip? What financial gain? He has, in fact received some
recognition from city officials for his work. They have promised
to give him larger facilities, and he imagines a home in the
future for a thousand homeless people. But a self-centered ego
trip is not what motivates Joshua Raja. Smiling slightly, he
calls himself a donkey for Jesus. Although identifying with his
work is out of my mental reach, I have no doubt that the joy in
his face as he describes serving “the least of these” is
genuine. In his own strength or for personal gain, he could not
do what he does day after day. We witnessed a demonstration of
one who gave up everything to follow Jesus; one who loves his
neighbor as himself; one who welcomes the stranger into his own
home and to his own table.
What added
credibility to the genuineness of his motivation was the
vulnerability with which he admitted that there are times when
he feels overwhelmed and depressed. His number one prayer
request was for perseverance in such times of discouragement. I
found myself praying not only for that, but also for times of
respite and Sabbath rest, not only for him but also for his wife
and children whom I did not meet.
“Why do you do it?”
one of the policemen kept asking him. To this Hindu brother he
confided that he was a Christian and that he does it out of love
for Jesus, the “god” he serves. The policeman nodded with
understanding. “Yes, only Christians would do that.”
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