Valson Thampu

There is a good reason why the injunction against taking the name of God in vain figures in the Ten Commandments. Nothing is as commonly, as disastrously, misused as the name of God. God continues to suffer violence at the hands of men.

It is rather well-known that the status of gods –shall I say, the politics of gods- correlates to the shifts in the status of human beings in more ways than one. The building of settled places of worship happened only after human beings gave up their nomadic life and embraced agrarian way of life. Kingship itself shows a comparable evolution. Consider the case of Israel. They were, for a long while after their liberation from bondage in Egypt, a theocratic tribe, ruled by prophets and judges. Mounting insecurity forced them to recognize the need to organize themselves into a nation state. Correspondingly, we see the emergence of a national God, comprising the two deities worshipped in the North and the South, El, associated with Abraham, and Yahweh, associated with Moses. In Exodus 6:2-3, God states that though he revealed himself to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob as El-Shaddai, his name is Yahweh. National unity is thus predicated on monotheism which was dictated by political and pragmatic considerations as well.

The conjunction of political and religious considerations – centralised authority and centralised worship – explains the keen urge that David, God’s beloved deputy, felt to build a temple in Jerusalem, the capital city. The political capital has to be, perforce, the religious capital. The city of man and the City of God must become one.

What was the alternative? The two traditions – the Elohist and the Yahwist – would have continued to hold their respective territories, and the split between the North and the South of Israel would have remained an un-healing wound in the body politic.

Consider, in this light, the massive and larger-than-life significance attached to building the Ayodhya temple. Why is this being showcased as an undertaking of national importance?

The answer to that question emerges clearly in juxtaposition to the Israelite parallel. In place of the Eohim-Yahweh tension, the Hindutva strategists face two major hindrances in their mission to forge pan-Indian Hindu unity. The first is the caste system, which institutionalizes Hindu disunity. This however is as much a socio-religious boon as it is a political bane. The second is the irreconcilable sectarian Vaishnaivite-Shivite divide. The first cannot be eradicated. It can only be plastered over. A variety of tokens, including placing low caste icons in positions of national visibility and prestige, are used in this regard. It is the second that compels our attention for the present.

The solution that the Jews evolved –that of telescoping two gods into one hybrid national deity- will not work in India. The sectarian divide runs too deep for that. The scale of the problem as well as the national spread also renders this solution impractical. So, what is it that can be done? That is where Ayodhya offers the solution.

If a hybrid deity cannot be created as the Jews and the Egyptians (Amun-Re) did to meet their nationalist needs, the next best thing to do is to project a third deity nationally. What cannot be re-hashed can be bypassed. Lord Ram serves this purpose better than any other god. He is a king-god, far away from the cross-hairs of sectarian hostilities. He is haloed in political romanticism: the king who accepted van-vas to uphold righteousness.

More than anything else, what goes to Lord Ram’s credit is the fact that he lends himself more readily to political mythmaking for the reason that the traditions about Lord Ram are less rigidly settled and doctrinaire than that of Lord Shiva or Lord Vishnu. At this point I venture, tremblingly, to make a prediction, which I rarely do. History has a malicious delight in mocking self-appointed prophets. Even so, here is my hunch. I would imagine Ayodhya becoming the capital of India at some point in the future, if India evolves into the Hindu Rashtra. My sense is that this winning stroke in the political T20 will be left to Yogi Adityanath, who seems to be poised to succeed Modi.

If my reading is right, it is likely that Hinduism will be morphed into a de facto, if not de jure, monotheistic religion, with Lord Ram as the national deity of the theocratic State. As compared to other options, it is easier to blend Lord Ram with India’s ‘democratic credentials’ for the reason that Lord Ram was, after all, a popular king. Is not a ruler with an iconic sense of righteousness the ideal guiding light for good governance in India? Depending on the context, the political and the religious facets of Lord Ram can be foregrounded. This will have the added outcome of transcending the Vaishnavite-Shivite divide. Maybe, even the cast fragmentation can be papered over when temple politics fructifies into the temple of politics quite in the Judaic fashion.

What should be the Christian response to such a prospect? Can we cry foul against it? If we would, from where will we derive the credibility for it? What, in our present life and witness, can aid us in this prophetic task? It is high time we applied our minds to this, and a host of related, issues.

A question of serious implication for Indian Christians may now be flagged. If and when Lord Ram is projected as the (sole) national deity of India –effectively steering the country from henotheism to monotheism- will it result in increased intolerance of religious diversity. Historically, monotheism is associated with greater religious intolerance. Already, there is cause for alarm in this respect. Will this aggravate in the near future? Will the original Hindutva norm, by which those who have their Holy Lands and Father lands outside of India become ineligible for Indian citizenship, in the Hindu Rashtra-to-be become the order of the day?

According to Veer Savarkar it should. Though Guru Golwalkar held this view, he modified it later. Clarity is lacking, as of now, on what the present charioteers of the Hindutva juggernaut think in this regard. We get contradictory signals, reinforced now by the growing fringe-core duplicity of the Parivar and its political outfits. It is commonsensical to assume that the original ideological position stands, in the absence of clear-cut affirmations to the contrary. And that should be a matter of serious concern.