DOROTHY YODER NYCE SEEING IS BELIEVING The Henry Martyn Institute, Hyderabad, India Introduction Imagine an unlighted cement stairway five feet wide, just off a busy street in Hyderabad, the capital city of India’s south-central state of Andhra Pradesh. A dark, wooden guardrail is in position to assist downward traffic. Grayish, plas- tered walls separate a slanted ceiling that suggests a further flight above. After five steps, a landing gives you time to look up beyond the remaining fifteen steps to a glass entrance. Light appears inside that door, along with green bran- ches of several large plants. “Stark entrance,” I think. But the address outside assures us that staff of the Henry Martyn Institute work inside. Next, imagine a narrow, less regular, steeper stairway than the first one. A small window space provides a hint of the midday’s intense heat. Without a handrail, I merely follow the woman ahead of me. Raja Rajeswari, officer of the project we are about to visit, has climbed them many times. Faint sounds of conversation drift into the stairway made of bricks, a stairway with turns that initially keep the next, first story out of sight. So, what might those stairways symbolize in the context of the Henry Martyn Institute (HMI)? Might they suggest movement or stability or common fea- tures? Stairways could suggest a path to improvement or a way to deal firmly with the present. Stairways can be either solid or prone to risks. To ascend them in the early morning might feel easy; to descend them after tough de- cisions could spell relief. Stairways suggest that staff and visitors, students and activists have known ‘ups and downs.’ Any organization depends on an exit as well as entrance. It thrives on history and vision, on support—of rupees and prayer—on plan as well as review. I had the privilege of observing HMI—staff and space—in Hyderabad for most of a week in March 2003. Although a week is short, a spirit pervades. Not able to observe the Conflict Resolution team members in a setting of conflict, I taped several of them on their return from India’s northeast region of ‘opposing sides.’ Detailed charts displayed at their desks added to insight. Reading Eng- lish journals in the library, between interviews, and perusing HMI publications, 160 SEEING IS BELIEVING minutes, and a grant application added flavor. Morning devotions pointed to- ward the One God. A Christian challenged co-staff to consider God as a com- pass. He noted the story of the Good Samaritan, calling all to see their tasks that day as ‘doing good’ among needs. The next day a valued Muslim led with a story about villagers, a king, and camels; he concluded with prayer in Telegu. Andreas D’Souza, director of HMI since 1992, has pondered what prayer means in such an interfaith context: “I have come to realize that spirituality has no barriers”(Andreas D’Souza 2002b: 267). My inner response suggests: “Something right is going on here.” Readers deserve to learn about that ‘something:’ that mindset, that heritage, that struggle to define reconciliation, that language study of Arabic, Persian, and Urdu. They deserve to learn about that effort to counter distrust between religious people, that program to meet educational, medical and income-pro- ducing needs in a riot-prone zone. They deserve to learn about that wisdom from diverse women on a journey, that inner exploring. They deserve to learn about that man Henry Martyn, that spirit calling for change within continuity, that Conflict Reconciliation team. that library with over twenty thousand vol- umes, that study of cultures and loyalties as they rub shoulders—and more. Henry Martyn Beginning with Henry Martyn, the story unfolds. Founders of the original Henry Martyn School chose to name it after a British chaplain (not formally a missionary). Born in 1781 and elected a Fellow of St. John’s after graduating there in 1801, he was ordained four years later. During that year he began to study Urdu (Hindustani). This Anglican Martyn went to India, assigned as the chaplain for East India Company personnel. From 1806 to 1812 his authentic love for Muslim people in India multiplied. Martyn strongly believed that effective communication with nationals depend- ed on his knowing Indian languages. Therefore, he studied Bengali, Persian, and Arabic in addition to the language of many Muslims—Urdu. Further, he learned as much as possible about those with whom he related. He read books like William Carey’s English translation of the Hindu text Ramayana, George Sale’s Preliminary Discourse and his English version of the Qur’an, and Maracci’s Refutatio. En route to his first assignment at Dinapur in the province of Bihar (northwest of Calcutta), a conversation with a Muslim scholar taught him the importance of accurate knowledge about others. Not content merely to debate traditional points, Henry chose to respect religious opponents, to appre- ciate and credit God with the best in Muslim partners. Translation work engaged Martyn. After translating the book of Acts into Ur- du, he prepared the entire New Testament for publication by early 1809, helped 161 STUDIES IN INTERRELIGIOUS DIALOGUE 14 (2004) 2 by Indian teachers. By then, he had also started on Arabic and Persian versions of that text. “The translator is always in some measure the theologian” (Bennett 2001: 227). Martyn wrestled with Christian meanings of words and symbols alongside those important to Muslims. With his Urdu translation of the Book of Common Prayer in hand, he regularly led worship in the vernac- ular with a crowd of poor Indians (not part of his East India Company role). Martyn consumed Muslim literature, especially the work of Persian poets. He started a number of schools and treated Indians with dignity. Like the German Bartholomaeus Ziegenbalg, the first Protestant missionary to arrive in South India (1706), he differed from many of his countrymen. He extended equal worth to Indians and recognized Muslim culture and loyalties. In Cawnpore, Martyn’s second placement, he also founded schools and preached to both In- dians and Company people. Martyn’s health declined as his work increased. He returned to Calcutta, after four years, and decided to travel home. Hoping for drier climates en route, he welcomed most stops where he could test his translations with Muslim leaders. He visited Armenian clergy and bishops; he held discussions with mullahs and Sufis in Shiraz. There he also first replied to a defense of Islam. When he was expected to recite the Shahadah (“There is no God but [Allah] and Muhammad is His prophet.”) he calmly countered, despite a lively crowd, “There is no God but God and Jesus is the Son of God” (Clinton 2001: 220). Martyn’s general approach offered Christianity without denouncing Islam. He avoided arrogance around people’s cherished beliefs. He did not claim superi- ority for his own country. However, to that country he never returned, having died at Tocat in Persia on October 16, 1812. Armenian priests buried him in their graveyard. Unfortunately, Martyn’s legacy was marred with the publishing of his Contro- versial Tracts more than a decade after his death. Whereas that writing in- cludes anti-Islamic polemic, Martyn doubted the wisdom of argumentation. More to be remembered is his scholarship, mission strategy, and positive atti- tude toward India’s people and culture. Convinced that “God, not people, wins souls,” he chose to plant the seed and let God do with that effort as God willed. He chose not to transplant English culture into Indian soil and he chose to re- veal “the mind that was in Christ Jesus” rather than to claim converts. Clinton Bennett names two lessons of Martyn’s mission strategy: to stress the study of language, religion, and culture, and to witness to the Gospel separate from co- lonial domination. Henry allowed ‘inner truth’ to be shaped by the encounter with ‘truth-without,’ for he had experienced the loyalty felt by others to their inner faith. His “standard of scholarship, commitment to the Gospel, and burning love for Muslim people” (Lindell 1980: 135) resonated with those who formed the organization central to this article. 162 SEEING IS BELIEVING HMI: Early History/Mission So, what has the organization named after this disciple of God’s been like? A recital of meetings notes the beginnings. The first Conference of Workers in the Muslim World, held in Cairo in 1906, responded to the need for Christian workers to understand Islam. At the 1910 International Missionary Conference held in Edinburgh, Samuel Zwemer appealed to churches this time to wake up to the “unique character of Christian Muslim relationships” (Lindell 1980: 133). A Conference of Missionaries to Muslims held in Lucknow, India, called the next year for special literature and worker training. An informal prayer fel- lowship and organization called Missionaries to Muslims League (MML) fol- lowed in 1912. The latter provided summer lectures, reading courses (with ex- ams) on Islam, translation of pamphlets into Urdu, new tracts, and News & Notes, a monthly circular that evolved into the Bulletin decades later at HMI. An International Missionary Council of 1921 organized a series of meetings in Muslim countries that led to a 1924 Conference in Jerusalem where for the first time a center for Islamic Studies in India was proposed. The Bareilly Theolo- gical Seminary, with John A. Subhan leading, started a Department of Islamic Studies. NCCI (National Christian Council, India) started in 1926 and by Janu- ary 1930 the Henry Martyn School of Islamic Studies opened in Lahore with L. Bevan Jones as principal. The School and mission among Muslims generally reveals an all-India charac- ter.