Stirring up the Know-Nothings

If irony is a foot, then in my house there are certain ironies that stink.

I'll try to answer the question honestly. (No need to observe that the question may be impolite or slightly suspect; others have done so.)

Why are Indian/Hindu converts to Catholicism a mite rhetorically pugnacious? Or, at least, why was Bobby Jindal? I can't, as a non-Hindu, be certain. But it might be a mix of two things:

I. THE AMATEUR

As C.S.Lewis observed (at least, I think it was he), "It is always the amateur who exaggerates." Add to this the fact that really profound conversions from radically different ways of thinking can produce radical changes of behavior. (I seem to recall in some old Western movie a bit about no woman being more Pharisaic, stern, and modest-of-dress than a "prostitute thas' gone and got religion.")

Jindal, early on in his Christian life, would be subject both to the exaggerations of many "newborn" (meaning "newly saved") Christians, and to the evangelical fervor of a man whose whole mode of thinking was entirely different, and who looks back at his earlier mindset with surprise, as at a stranger.

For some aspects of the Hindu mindset about God and faith really are radically different from the Christian, which leads me to the second reason for the loudness of Jindal's convictions....

II. A SUDDEN ARRIVAL AT COGNITIVE COHERENCE

Hinduism enshrines within itself the idea of "many ways to God, many paths to touch the divine."

Now, many practitioners of many faiths will make such statements. They do it out of politeness, to avoid uncomfortably contentious theological debates at dinner parties. (I think it was William F. Buckley who once wrote in a column about two diplomats from different cultures meeting at a diplomatic gathering. One is curious about the other's faith, but wants to avoid the discomfort of seeming combative, so he says to the other: "My miserable superstition is Buddhism, what is yours?")

But usually there are only two options, and both involve a lie: (a.) One actually believes "that there are many ways to God," and only acknowledges one's own religious identity as a hollow piety or cultural hallmark empty of personal meaning; or, (b.) One actually earnestly believes in a religion, and either never says, "there are many ways to God," or only says it as a polite lie in social situations.

These two options are usually mutually exclusive, because most religions make claims that are incompatible with other religions, proving the "many ways to God" idea inherently false.

But in Hinduism, as I understand it, there are multiple manifestations of the divine. For starters there is the vaguely Trinity-like Brahma/Vishnu/Shiva distinction. A person may select as his "path to the divine" the worship of just one of these manifestations, but not all of them. Then we have avatars of the divine appearing legendarily on earth at various times delivering advice for improved holiness (I struggle with terminology here both because my own understanding is cursory and the terms themselves map imperfectly to Christian-overtoned words like "holiness").

In such a tradition, the idea that there are "many paths to God" is one of the few sacrosanct ideas. For this reason there are special problems for Christians evangelizing amongst Hindus. A Hindu is quite likely to think of Jesus as just another avatar of the divine, but not exceptionally so, let alone exclusively so. The Hindu might "accept Jesus" without qualm one day, and worship Shiva the next day: Why not? Two paths to the divine, neither better than the other.

Now, logic dictates that when two ideas are incompatible, they cannot both be literally correct. The Hindu "many ways" mantra could have been true if all the varied paths within Hinduism had no mutual incompatibilities. That it has lasted for so many centuries suggest that these paths either are not mutually incompatible, or that their incompatibilities have worn away over the centuries syncretically.

But when extended to cover all the religions of earth (which are incompatible with one another in lots of ways) the mantra is certainly false. This extension can only be maintained as a polite lie.

And, a certain kind of mine (mine, for one, and probably Jindal's) looks on such cognitive dissonance with distaste, and relishes conviction of truths, "laid out fair and square with no contradictions."

Jindal, then, is likely to have come to Christ with the joy of a man who finally finds out the truth of a great mystery about which others have been mouthing vague mantras to cover their uncertainty since he was born. He would have had the electric experience of clearing away cobwebs to reveal bright sunshine. He would have had a reversal of mindset about the Boolean opposites "true" and "false" which would have taken him right out of the poorly-lit valleys of his upbringing and set him atop a mountain from which the view was clear in all directions. He would have felt like the man who discovered fire, or the atom.

It his to his credit that he was as gracious and respectful as he was, after conversion. (With his parents, especially.)

But such a man, experiencing such a conversion, would not speak softly.