Mother Yeh and her husband were leading figures in the community. They were among the few who knew their way about in the tortuous labyrinth of heathendom. Their faithfulness towards Buddhism had, after many years of service, rewarded them with the position of Buddhist leaders. They were in the forefront of the inside group, and people looked up to them with reverence and admiration. Their aim in life was to attain the highest state of earthyly happiness according to the promise of Buddhism. To reach their goal, they omitted nothing in the shape of self-denying prayers and monetary gifts.
Suddenly one day a big commotion stirred the community. Something happened that had never occurred before, and it left the people guessing in bewilderment. People forsook their work and, with barely concealed curiosity, wended their way to the threshing floor directly facing the temple, in the midst of which a tent had been pitched. The place had seen tents before, but not of this type. The older men could describe a large canvas erection containing a host of cages. In those cages there had been monkeys, parrots, snakes, and even leopards. It had been called a circus, and the people who travelled with it termed themselves "artistes" or "clowns"
Above this tent, which was staked down on the threshing floor, there fluttered a white banner with the inscription "The tent of Good Tidings." The onlookers wondered what that meant; undeniably there was something special about the outfit. The crowd pressed in to scan the large pictorial posters hanging up on one side of the tent. The literate told the uninitiated that the pictures symbolized the power of sin and darkness over mankind. The illustrations further depicted a man called Jesus as the only One who could deliver mankind from sin. He was the Son of God, and those who travelled with the tent called themselves evangelists.
Amongst this gathering which was invited inside the tent to hear more about Jesus was Mother Yeh. She hid herself as well as she could; for think how terrible it would be if she met some of her acquaintances. Then she would certainly lose face. She made herself as inconspicous as possible and pressed herself in between two peasant women. They at any rate would not know her.
The symptoms of that Chinese affliction, inquisitiveness, had mastered Mother Yeh when she followed the throng into the tent. But she regretted the folly of having yielded to her weakness after she had sat on the uncomfortable wooden benches for one whole hour listening to the preaching of the Chinese evangelist. Was he not up there seriously maintaining that her beloved gods were deaf and blind, that they could neither eat nor drink, and that rats and the priests feasted on the offerings presented to the gods ? What fantastic nonsense ! Mother Yeh shook with righteous indignation right where she sat. The man was Chinese like herself, and should have had better judgment than he was then showing. He did not have a proper appreciation of the best things in life. Buddha would soon punish him for this blasphemous talk; that was certain. Mother Yeh sat praying that the worst penalties known to her gods might fall like an avalanche on this impudent evangelist. Doubtless he had intoxicated himself with the foreign missionaries' magical medicines and was therefore acting like one out of his wits.
"All the foundations on which you build are untrustworthy"; the strong and tall tent leader, Tsao Tsuan, flung out the statement, and then continued: "I was just like any one of you before I met Jesus Christ. Buddhism had taught me that my heart was not as corrupt as I believed it to be, and that it was possible to ornament the old life in such a way that one could merit a higher and better fate in the next existence. But it didn't take me long to find out that all that Buddhism had taught me was nothing but an illusion; just a dream that contented me as long as I was asleep. When I met Jesus all that I believed in burnt up like dry stubble. "
Mother Yeh knew what stubble was and how well it burned. She had often used it herself to warm up her room before retiring. The very idea that all her devotion and religous tenets should burn like straw made her heart shrink and twist in pain. That could not be; it was an impossibility for such a thing to happen. Mother Yeh tried to console herself.
"You must receive a new heart," Tsao Tsuan went on to say. "The old one is no longer serviceable."
"A new heart ?" Mother Yeh quaked in her seat. Now at any rate she had evidence that this redoubtable foreign teaching was that which the Buddhist leader of the Golden Sunshine Temple had warned her against. He had told her that the white missionaries lured the Chinese into their rooms and removed their hearts for medicinal purposes. Those who entered their rooms were hypnotized while the operations were performed, and then the missionary put in new foreign hearts to replace the old Chinese ones. When the Chinese awakened out of their trances, they would be disciples of the alien religion. That wasn't queer when one considered that they had received white hearts.
The service was over, and the crowd hurrid out of the tent. Many were puzzled by the new teaching, and their faces registered their irresolution. They did not know what to do or believe. Some, however, remained behind in the tent to talk to the Christians and to satisfy their curiosity by hearing more of this way of salvation. A third group left the tent in undisguised wrath. They had listened to blasphemy. It had been abominable and foolish. They must set about halting these tent meetings.
Mother Yeh stood up halfway between the first and third groups. She was indignant on behalf of her gods, but personally she was a little doubtful. While she walked home, memories from the past arose from her subconscious mind. Was it the omnipotence of Buddha that seemed to have suffered a fatal blow ? Or did these memories occur to her as a warning for her to strive still more to avoid yielding to temptation, and thereby losing her place as a superior being in the next existence ?
Childless, together with her husband she had for many years prayed for children, especially boys, but she had had none. They had both lain awake through scores of nights, praying to the god of fertility, who was ever silent. Did not he understand their longing or had they not prayed earnestly enough ? Was there something lacking in their devotion and worship, since he remained silent ? Or could it be that he was dumb ? Imagine it; if the case was as the tent leader had asserted it to be. "All the man-made gods of Buddha are false. They cannot answer because they are made of wood and stone." Not knowing what to believe, Mother Yeh joined the ranks of the doubters, a place of misery, as she soon found out.
That night Mother Yeh was restless and sleepless. She lay awake pondering on why she was so distubed by what she had heard in the tent. Beside her lay her husband peacefully slumbering without a seeming care in the world. She listened to his even breathing until finally she could no longer control her desire to talk. Thoughts buzzed around her in such a way that she feared she was going crazy. She tried to count, spell long and difficult words and mutter Buddhist prayers designed to ensure a night's rest, but nothing helped. She tossed to and fro on the kang, but discovered no spot where she could fall asleep. The message from the tent had driven off all prospects of sleep, it kept her wide awake while questions continued to assert themselves. Not being able to stand it any longer, she seized her husband's naked shoulder and shook him, and spoke: "I was down in the tent at the threshing place to-day. They told about a certain Jesus, the Son of God. He's supposed to be the only One who can save a person from his sins. If we do not give up our old gods and accept Jesus, we'll have to spend eternity in hell in the company of the devil. These words it is impossible for me to banish. They ring in my ears so that I cannot sleep. Think if ..."
"No; we don't think if..." The husband jerked awake from his deepest slumber, shouted in his anger and annoyance. His eyes glittered wrathfully in the dusk, and his face was contorted with temper. Word flowed from the mouth as Mother Yeh shrank back fearfully:
"Aha, so you have listened to that disgraceful foreign teaching. It's false, full of deceit. It scorns our family gods. It will destroy the Chinese people, for children are being murdered and adults are being caught in the white man's net. There they have become subject to the whims of the missionaries and have to obey their every order. I forbid you to set your foot inside the tent again. The gods they preach about there come from afar and do not suit us Chinese."
"But," Mother Yeh protested, "there were no foreigners there when I was in the tent. Chinese only were speaking about Jesus. These were even neighbours from Shanghsien and Shanyang communities. All of them were filled with much happiness. There must be something wrong with our doctrine. 'Pain and self-torture do not form the highest type of human gladness,' said Tsao Tsuan, the evangelist in the tent. 'No, it's the joy and peace which Jesus bestows.' "
"What on earth is the matter with you ? " exclaimed her husband in vexation. Then, turning his back, he started snoring, thus proclaiming that he was off into the haven of dreamland.
Daybreak was at hand; above the mountain range in the east the first blushing glimmer of the sun tinged the sky, signifying another victory of day over night. A fresh breeze combed the hillsides, and the leaves of the trees started rustling, flowers began to perk up, and the first rooster-trills sounded out over the village before the calm of sleep sank over Mother Yeh.
In spite of her husband's warnings and strict prohibition, Mother Yeh was to be seen at the first meeting in the tent on the next day. The fact that she was a sinner doomed to destruction became plain to her. But years of devotional adherence to Buddha's images, thousands of memorized prayers, the intense, priestly lectures on Buddhism's philosophy of life, and a host of self-imposed rules for living could not be thrown overboard all in one day. Many weeks of agonizing soul-searching passed before she declared her surrender.
At an evening meeting in the middle of the week one of the community's outstanding Buddhist figures capitulated to Jesus Christ, and the angels of heaven rejoiced over a new name in the Book of Life.
There was a tremendous tumult in Yeh's home, the evening his wife came home and told him of the choice she had made. With the fire of her first love, she admonished him to forsake the idols who had defrauded them through the length of all their years.
Tear down the idols ? Had his wife gone completely mad ? Now he was positive his wife had received a foreign heart. They had removed her good Buddhist heart and exchanged it for a white one. His wife was no longer Chinese: if she were, how could she then beseech him to destroy the tiny altar to the god of the earth which was out on the slope ? Who would then protect them from wolves, leopards, or the dangerous Yeh-Shih Ping sickness ? His field would be burnt up, the hens would stop laying, his oxen would die and the pride of the family, the pig, would surely become prey for the wolves. The man was terrified too at the thought of all the dreadful catastrophic penalties that would befall his house. Fire and floods would ruin it if they did not have anybody to safeguard them from such disastrous visitations.
Yeh continued to cogitate. He thought of the shame of his being a childless father. That was enough without having to be tied down to a scatter-brained wife also; for he was convinced in his heart that by acting like this she was not in the full possession of her faculties. She must have been hypnotized in the tent. He wondered if he should not beat the bewitchment out of her body; but to tell the truth she had been a good wife, even though she had failed in her most important duty, that of bearing him a son. If she had accomplished that she would have been marketable. But nobody would buy a sterile woman. The only thing for him to do was to wait and see.
For three months they each continued to pray to their respective gods. He worshipped his numerous gods, while she knelt in prayer to the one true God for her husband's conversion. He had often observed her as she prayed. The remarkable thing was that she burnt neither incense nor magic paper. But she wept frequently in her praying, and that was an enigma to him, since she was neither sick nor angry.
Something fateful happened to him one afternoon. When he returned from the field and went to the fence to call the pig, he received no answer. He shouted and hunted high and low, but the familiar grunt was absent. In a moment the thought came: a wolf- the pig had been devoured by a wolf ! He rushed in to his wife, crying: "A wolf has taken our pig, our fine pig."
"No, that couldn't be true," she replied. "You've placed the very god of the earth out htere in the middle of the enclosure. It was to keep wolves and all such as have a predilection for night thieving away from you pig, wasn't it ?"
That was a bull's-eye he couldn't disregard. Yeh had been pushed to the wall. He understood only too well the irony in her voice, but was yet unable to show his annoyance, for in one way she was right. He had placed the god of the earth out there because he was afaid that otherwise the wolves would catch his pig. No; this was beyond his endurance, he must go out and air his turbulent feelings.
The sun had just set in the west, and the darkness sank in over the countryside like a black counterpane. A brisk wind was blowing down the intoxicating aroma of flowers from Wang's large garden at the top of the ridge, giving the air a fresh spiciness.
When Yeh came out into this wonderful night air, his mood was tempered by mildness. He took the path over the farm lot towards the god of the earth. His face was immobile and white as wax as he fought obstinately for command of his thoughts. His god was the object of a woman's scorn. That must be avenged, even if it was his own wife who was guilty. But then he reconsidered what she said. Her words confounded him. What if it were true that his gods didn't even have the power to look after a pig ? He had now arrived at the tiny shrine dedicated to the god of the earth, and as he stood gazing at the image, some more of his wife's words came to mind. He started to perspire on the spot. What if it were true that his gods were part of the greatest deception played on mankind ? If all the thousands of prayers he had uttered, all the hundreds of paper rolls he had burned and all the sacrifices he had offered to the gods-- what, if all had really been in vain, what then was the truth ? Where was it, and how could he find it ? No; it was not proper to think like that; he was practically on the verge of being bewitched also.
His wife, however, was prostrate in front of the kitchen table and praying to her God. She was praying for the salvation of her husband, and praying too for the safe return of the pig. Her husband would then realize that her God was the one and only true God. It was a simple, child-like prayer, and such prayers are those which beget perfect answers. When she arose from her knees, she knew that the pig would be coming back to them. Then she turned to the door to hear if her husband was on his way back, and confronted him as he stared at her. She gave him a warm smile, and said quietly:
"Early to-morrow morning the pig will return uninjured."
Her husband believed her, but brusquely replied:
"I believe you are mad, wife. Come, let us go to be. You need to sleep, since your nerves have rebelled of late."
They went to their hard-surfaced kang lay down. He fell asleep instantaneously, while Mother Yeh lay there thanking her God for the answer to prayer she had received.
Dawn had scarcely commenced to break when Mother Yeh was awakened by the familiar grunting of the pig. She shook her husband.
"You'd better get up and lock up the pig. It's outside wanting to come in." Her husband jumped up. He was now positive that his wife had finally gone irrevocably insane.
"You're talking nonsense. Lie down and go to sleep. The wolf has long since devoured the pig."
"No, it's there outside. Don't you remember my telling you last night that my God would send the pig home to us this morning, unhurt ? And that is what He has done. Listen; just listen."
Her husand shook his head. She sat there and in dead earnestness claimed that her God had sent their pig home. That was a sheer impossibility. No; probably she fancied that she heard some sounds. The pig was dead and gone, and that was a fact as incontrovertible as the moon.
But, hearken. What was that ? It couldn't possibly be ...No...it just couldn't be true. It was unbelievable. The man leaped out of bed, ran barefoot across the cold floor, unbolted the door and opened it.
Out there in the grey morning light was the pig. The man ran his hand over it, feeling for wounds, but found that it was comparatively uninjured. Just a little congealed blood on the one ear, and the marks of the wolf's teeth on the upper jaw; otherwise the pig was unharmed.
Now Yeh realize that Jesus was a mighty God. Every thought he had endeavoured to stifle welled forth. He came to a decision once and for all. The old gods had to go; they would no longer grace his house, and he would no longer bow to any of them. They had lost.
In the east the sun rose above the humped hills and sent its warm rays down over the valley where Yeh lived. It shimmered on the river in a playful glitter on the water's surface. Spring-time had arrived. In a few places grass was being burnt. That was the way to clear off the weeds in the spring, so that pasturage could grow freely and unhindered. Nature was clothed in all her splendour. Everything breathed of life and awakening.
Invigorated by the superb morning air, Yeh decided to ligth a bonfire in his yard in the midst of the enclosure where the pig generally wallowed. For more than half an hour he and his wife had carried burnable scrap into the small temple to the earth god. All the rubbish was flung through the curtained doorway. Yeh himself came with some important things like images of the gods of fertility, sun, rain, and fire. Mother Yeh followed close after him with a stack of paper rolls. Each single Buddhist writing and all the incense they had in the house completed the junk. A great fire was to be lit. Yeh himself set fire to the pile with an ember from his stove. The rubbish caught alight rapidly as the flames licked their way through it. Not a single thing in the shrine remained outside the orbit of the fire. The flames crackled and sparked through the temple's thatched roof, the smoke ascended on high as a signal to the forces of evil in the universe that the victory won at Calvary was equally effective in the interior of China nearly two thousand years later.
Mother Yeh and her husband had been outstanding Buddhists; now they became redoubtable Christians. God used them early and late, and they possessed a greater heart for sacrifice than ever before. Their prayers accomplished wonders, and those Buddhists who came into contact with them could not explain away the fact that the God the Yehs worshipped was mightier than Buddha.
