We were sitting around the wooden bench that served as our
dining table. The room was an
all-weather one – hot in summer, cold in winter, and water everywhere during
the rains; and sipping our jaggery tea (sugar too expensive) from enamel tin
mugs. Outside was thick bamboo, after
which Bans (bamboo) Bareilly is named.
Flocks of peafowl pranced around.
This was Jyotiniketan Ashram.
Swami
Deenabandhu (Fr. Augustine Lobo OFM Cap) sipped his tea with one hand and
swished a wicker fan with the other. He
was talking about how simple St Thomas Aquinas was. A scholastic had once told him that a horse
was flying, and Aquinas looked out to see it!
He would rather believe that a horse could fly, than that a man would
lie. Just then I shouted, “Father, Look at that elephant flying behind
you”. He turned immediately. All of us laughed. The fact remained, that Father believed. He believed in me, he believed in man, he
believed in God, he believed in the impossible. Now his credo is
fulfilled. On the 13th May,
he passed on to the heavenly shore, at the ripe age of 80. What is so special about the man? His story speaks for itself.
Born
in 1911 in Permude, South Kanara, he was ordained a diocesan priest in
Mangalore in 1935. Three years after his
ordination, he joined the Capuchin Order, then known for its austerity. For several years he was a pastor, seminary
professor, novice master, etc. But
another call came. In 1971, at the age
of 60, when most people have retirement plans, he took another courageous step
forward. He left the relative comfort of
the monastery to live in Jyotiniketan Ashram, Bareilly. This ashram was starkly frugal – no electricity
or running water, self-cooking with firewood, vegetarian meals, and a routine
of 5 sessions of daily prayer. Enough to
frighten timid souls. Swamiji was the
Acharya for 20 blessed years. The ashram
was his life’s fulfillment, though his services went beyond its confines.
Having
lived with Swamiji in Jyotiniketan for seven grace-filled years, perhaps I knew
and understood him very closely. It is
now my filial duty to keep his message alive. Firstly, I would term him a
“spirit-filled” person. Jesus said that
those born of the Spirit are like the wind.
You do not know where it is coming from or where it is going (cf Jn
3:8). Swamiji was like that, most unpredictable, and not something to be
bottled up. His life contrasts with
those who, when ordained, think that they have arrived; or when they celebrate
their silver jubilee, feel that they have done enough. At 60 it is not easy to
learn to cook, to learn another language, or to make do without basic amenities
like electricity. Being spirit-filled,
he was a holy man. When hospitalized,
those attending on him felt holiness exuding from him. When he left the
hospital they felt a void.
His
holiness made him humble. He never
considered himself a Guru, but an ordinary friar (brother) like St Francis of
Assisi. This humility made him
accessible to all – lepers, dalits and the spiritually or economically
marginalized. It also made him
serviceable. He could never say no to a
person in distress. People took undue
advantage of his goodness. But he would
counter criticism by saying, “I would rather be fooled a hundred times, than
turn one deserving case away unattended.”
Indeed Swamiji was simple to the core, the simplicity that the pure of
heart have, those that can see God (cf Mat 5:8).
Though
no specialist in any Indian spirituality he was authentically Indian. A bishop who tended to frown on forms of
inculturation, on seeing Jyotiniketan said, “This is truly Indian, where there
is no dichotomy between life and worship“. Thereafter he encouraged several
others to visit.
This
authenticity also found expression in Swami Deenabandhu’s ecumenical
vision. On the one hand he was fully
Catholic – faithfully praying the breviary, or encouraging confession, which
are no longer ”fashionable”. On the
other hand his approach to other Christians was one of brotherhood and
equality. There were no signs of
triumphalism or “We are the chosen few” syndrome. Christians of all denominations felt equally
at ease in Jyotiniketan. Perhaps this
was also a legacy of Rev Murray Rogers, the founder of Jyotiniketan. He was an Anglican pastor, who with his wife
Mary had founded the ashram, and later made way for Swamiji, himself moving on
to Jerusalem.
In
the funeral oration the Capuchin Provincial observed that most people’s
greatness is discovered only gradually after their death. It is most appropriate for Swamiji. His life should speak more eloquently in
death. There are two things that could
be singled out – one for the Religious, the other for the Laity.
For
him priesthood wasn’t the peak, religious life was; to live the evangelical
counsels of poverty, chastity and obedience. His poverty was heroic, having no
personal possessions. His khadi cassock
was worn and frayed. The village cobbler
made his sandals of tyre rubber. His
celibacy gave him the capacity to love more, not less. He was truly affectionate, and always had
brotherly love for women. It is so
difficult to love somebody of the opposite sex, without sexual overtones. But he had this unique quality, which Jesus
called a gift that is not for everybody (cf Mat 19:11). Obedience meant doing
God’s Will, as Jesus did, so he was ever-willing to accept the authority of
others, who were much younger and less accomplished. For him obedience was a liberating
experience, not a hindrance. His
authentic religious life made him a popular retreat preacher and spiritual
advisor to several congregations.
As
a layman, my endearing experience of Swamiji was his attitude towards the
laity. In our seven years together, I
never felt a second-class citizen. In
the true sprit of Vatican II he regarded the laity as equals. He did not have the paternalistic father –
son relationship, but the fraternal one.
He also strongly believed that the clergy should stick to the parameters
of their vocation – instruction, worship and community building; and not
encroach on or usurp the role of the laity in the social-economic and political
fields. He always spoke of married life
in glowing terms, as a beautiful gift. A
far cry from St Paul telling his people, that if you can’t be celibate then go
and marry; some kind of condescension or compromise (cf 1 Cor 7:25-40).
Swamiji’s
greatness made him so much more human.
He could laugh loudly, especially if the joke was on himself. I remember the time somebody gave him a
shampoo bottle for his long hair.
Presuming it to be hair oil, he applied it after his bath! The best was when he made coffee for a
departing English guest on a misty winter morning. By lamplight he put chilly powder for coffee
and rice instead of sugar in the cup! Poor Englishman.
Swami
Deenabandhu has gone forward into eternity. His life and values are an
everlasting testimony, that for one who believes – in God, in Man, in the
Church - nothing is impossible. Even
elephants can fly.
(This piece was originally written in 1991, at his
passing on. It is being reprinted now as his life and testimony warrant it)
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