I have my own reservations about the so-called ‘contextualization’ in communicating the Gospel. As a Hindu bhakta, I’ve often reiterated that there is nothing for me to “contextualize” in order to follow or promote the Good News of the Lord. My encounter with Muktinath didn’t require external frameworks to bridge my worldview with the Good News. Yet, this process of contextualization largely remained an outsider—or at best, an along-sider—initiative. Ironically, many early Hindu converts to Christianity participated in these projects and even wrote extensively about it. However, most of these efforts failed because they operated from within the boundaries of their denominations. Their attempts became “of the church, for the church, and by the church,” often accommodating the concerns of outsiders more than the lived realities of insiders. These outsiders were even permitted to define where the so-called ‘line’ should be drawn—deciding what natives should or should not do to remain faithful to the Good News.
That said, these pioneers were not wrong. They acted according to their understanding and the context of their time. We can indeed learn much from them—not always about what we should do, but more importantly, about what we should not or cannot do in our own context.
On a lighter note, I’ve sometimes summarized this with what I call the Trinity of Missiology—three playful yet pointed proverbs that capture key principles of contextualization:
- Don’t drink milk while sitting under a palm tree – others might mistakenly think you’re drinking country arrack (local liquor). The point: appearances matter in cross-cultural witness.
- Don’t try to straighten a dog’s tail – let it remain true to its nature. Similarly, don’t attempt to “Hinduize” Christianity or the Indian Church. Let it be what it is: a hybrid, born of a distinct interaction between Gospel and culture.
- Milk may be rich and nourishing, but fish can’t live in it – no matter how good something seems, it may not be suitable for every context. Let each element remain in its natural environment. (Read between the lines.)
These sayings may sound humorous, but they reflect deeper missiological wisdom—reminding us to discern context, respect difference, and recognize the limits of adaptation.
While I strongly affirm the unchanging nature of the Good News, it also has an extraordinary ability to adapt itself to the needs of the time. That’s the beauty of the Gospel: it transcends context, yet incarnates within it. Our context today is different. We are no longer captive to foreign frameworks; we are free to live our life in the Lord as Hindu bhaktas—just as fish live naturally in water.
For me, “context” is not limited to theology or missiology; it includes sociology, textual interpretation, theology, and historical consciousness. Especially in our time, when ultra-nationalism is gaining traction worldwide, we cannot afford to isolate ourselves in “mental compound mandalis,” much like the earlier physical ‘compound Christianity’ that kept itself separate from society. Our identity is woven into our family, community, and national fabric. Today, we face twin challenges: the aggressive assertion of ultra-nationalism and the technological invasion that isolates individuals, turning them into islands. This postmodern fragmentation, where the individual becomes the ultimate unit, threatens even the minimal togetherness once offered by Church communities.
As Christopher J. H. Wright aptly observed, the Church rarely offered deep fellowship—at best, it gave us “watery togetherness.”¹ Now, even that is being eroded by technological isolation. People are increasingly confined to their own “cabins”—at home, in society, and within their digital worlds.
And yet, where ideological unity has failed, the Bhakti movement once provided spiritual unity without collapsing individuality. Unfortunately, the rise of ultra-nationalism has hijacked even these spiritual and cultural spaces. Now, it has become an exercise of “birds of a feather flocking together,” not in spiritual unity but in reactionary identity consolidation.
The reason I stress the term ‘ultra-nationalism’ rather than simply ‘nationalism’ is because the latter—once a taboo or even a dirty word—has now been normalized and embraced as a legitimate, even necessary, assertion of identity. This is particularly in response to what is seen as a faceless, formless, and idealistic universalism that denies distinctiveness. Surprisingly, even Tagore, known for his universalist vision, warned against such enforced homogeneity. He criticized Gandhi’s unwavering focus on the Chakra, calling it a “cult,” and instead upheld the divine value of diversity:
“Our Shastras tell us that the divine shakti is many-sided… civilizations of His creation have their divine wealth of diversity… while mortal providence… seeks to knead them all into a lump of uniformity… wherever the human spirit has not been reduced to the coldness of collapse, we also see perpetual rebelliousness against this mechanical, mortar-pounded homogeneity.”²
In pluralistic societies like India, swinging to either extreme—universalism or ultra-nationalism—disrupts balance and denies others their rightful space. This tension intensified particularly after critical events that were simmering among the majority, triggered by recent terrorist attacks and the counter-actions taken by the Government of India, which led many to believe that extreme postures are warranted.
Some proponents of ultra-nationalism now appeal to āpad-dharma—the dharma of emergency—as a justification. In traditional dharmic understanding, āpad-dharma permits the temporary suspension of normal duties during existential crises (like war or famine) to ensure survival and protect higher values. Various Dharmashastras and Epics offer many examples, particularly in the context of emergencies.³ But what was once meant to be a rare exception is now turning into a permanent ideology.
Similarly, just as some Abrahamic faiths believe they are divinely mandated to universalize their expression of life—spiritual, social, and political—so too, ultra-nationalism claims to be a civilizational mandate. It frames its reactionary measures as necessary for survival and justifies extreme steps as emergency responses. However, when āpad-dharma becomes standard, it undermines the very values it claims to protect.
This is why I argue that what we need is not merely ‘Contextualization’ but rather an incarnational approach. This approach integrates the principle of spirituality: “Live and Let Live.” It embraces plurality, affirms rootedness, and resists both forced uniformity and isolationism. This becomes even more urgent—another kind of emergency that compels us to revisit every theological or missiological approach, emphasizing the promotion of the Kingdom of God rather than the propagation of a particularly dogmatic view in the name of God and the Good News.
Therefore, our real task is not to endlessly revise or rehearse contextualization, but to courageously live the Good News in our current social, political, and spiritual context. That means starting with ourselves, our families, our mandalis, and our communities—avoiding the extremes of complete isolation and universalism. Of course, as a layperson, my view may also remain the echo of a ‘solitary voice’. But most significant initiatives often began as a ‘solitary voice’—helping others to take it or leave it.
We must take the Good News seriously—not merely as a theological idea to be translated, but as a life to be lived and shared from within. History offers wisdom, but it is in the present that we must take our stand—either in the ‘recycled contextualization’, old wine in new bottles, or in an incarnational approach, as demanded by our time.
Conclusion: Rethinking From Within
The value of compiling and studying early writings of Hindu converts within the Church tradition cannot be denied. These voices, however, often operated within boundaries defined by ecclesial structures and theological frameworks that remained external to the lived Hindu worldview. While their attempts at contextualization were sincere and sometimes bold, they were still shaped by an outsider perspective — even when written by insiders.
Our present context demands more than inherited templates of contextual theology. What is needed now is not merely a translation of Christian categories into Hindu terms, but a re-visioning of the Good News from within Hindu bhakti traditions — as those who follow Muktinath not in spite of, but through, their deep cultural and devotional roots.
This is not about discarding the past, but about allowing the Spirit to breathe fresh life into the Good News in the Hindu world — through bhaktas of the Lord who are not merely objects of mission but subjects of theological reflection and spiritual transformation.
Ashram, May 25, 2025
Notes
- Fellowship is the usual translation of the Greek koinonia, which is itself part of a rich complex of words. A study of the root koinon- in the New Testament reveals that a substantial number of the occurrences of words formed or compounded from it either signify, or are in contexts which relate to, actual social and economic relationships between Christians. They denote a practical, often costly, sharing, which is a far cry from that watery ‘togetherness’ which commonly passes as ‘fellowship’—e.g., Acts 2:42, 44; 4:34; Romans 12:13; 1 Timothy 6:18; Hebrews 13:16; Romans 15:26–27; 2 Corinthians 8:4; 9:13; Galatians 2:9f; Philippians 1:27; 4:15ff.
—Christopher J. H. Wright, Living as the People of God: The Relevance of Old Testament Ethics, IVP, 1983, p. 98. - Tagore: Our śāstras tell us that the divine śakti is many-sided, so that a host of different factors operate in the work of creation. In death these merge into sameness; for chaos alone is uniform. God has given to man the same many-sided śakti, for which reason the civilizations of his creation have their divine wealth of diversity. It is God’s purpose that in the societies of man the various should be strung together into a garland of unity; while often the mortal providence of our public life, greedy for particular results, seeks to knead them all into a lump of uniformity. That is why we see in the concerns of this world so many identically-liveried, machine-made workers, so many marionettes pulled by the same string: and on the other hand, wherever the human spirit has not been reduced to the coldness of collapse, we also see perpetual rebelliousness against this mechanical, mortar-pounded homogeneity.
—The Modern Review, September 1925, quoted in CWMG, Vol. 28, Appendix V, “The Cult of the Chakra” by Rabindranath Tagore, pp. 483–485, p. 483 - In Indic traditions too, moral action is sometimes reinterpreted in light of extreme situations—what is called āpad-dharma, the “law of emergency.” Though Prof. Sharma notes that the category of varna-dharma typically applies to all the four varṇas, while āpad-dharma applies to the state (Hinduism and Human Rights: A Conceptual Approach, Oxford, 2004, p. 24), Patrick Olivelle further clarifies this structural distinction in Dharma texts:
“There are often two sets of rules, the one primary (kalpa) and the other secondary (anukalpa). The primary rules are seen as the normal and the normative. In times of emergency… it is permitted to follow the secondary mode. Frequently, the secondary mode is associated with what has come to be known as the ‘Law in times of adversity’ (āpad-dharma).”
—Manu’s Code of Law: A Critical Edition and Translation, Oxford, 2006, p. 33
Āpad-dharma is prominently discussed in the Manusmṛti, Mahābhārata, and other Dharmaśāstra literature. Unlike svadharma—one’s regular personal or caste-based duty—āpad-dharma allows for extraordinary, sometimes morally ambiguous actions, when survival, societal stability, or higher dharma is at stake. A well-known Sanskrit verse captures this idea:
आपत्काले तु संप्राप्ते शौचाचारं न चिन्तयेत्।
स्वयं समुद्धरेत् पश्चात् स्वस्थो धर्मं समाचरेत्॥
“In times of distress, one should not overly concern with ritual purity. First, one must rescue oneself; afterwards, when stable, one should resume the proper dharma.”
This concept finds resonance with situational ethics or just war theory in Christianity, wherein normally forbidden actions may become permissible in extreme circumstances—ideally, with a sense of moral cost or regret.
Yet, just as in Christian ethics, the invocation of such exceptional rules must be approached with spiritual humility and discernment, not opportunism. The danger lies in using āpad-dharma not as a rare concession, but as a convenient loophole—an ethical temptation that ancient texts warn against through stories like those of Yudhiṣṭhira’s half-truth, or the killing of Vāli by Rama.
For more information on āpad-dharma, see:
https://www.scribd.com/document/419366092/Apad-Dharma-Duty-at-the-time-of-crises-i-docx
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