That debatable bit of dogma highlights what many are calling an underhanded, Bible-thumping campaign to collect Cambodian converts. For those who fled Pol Pot’s terror, hell is a very real place-far beyond any preacher’s rhetorical flourish. To their credit, most of the two dozen Christian agencies working along the border hew closely to guidelines requiring respect for refugees’ traditional religion. Their emphasis is on physical relief, with a minimum of proselytization. Several groups, though, including the Swiss-based Youth With a Mission and World Relief of Wheaton, Ill., are accused by both Westerners and Cambodians of exploiting the situation under the guise of saving souls. “It’s revolting,” says one UNICEF field worker. “All these people have left is their Buddhism. Now they’re losing that too.”
With its easygoing tolerance, Buddhism can offer little resistance to evangelical fervor. “The foreign Christians have all the money,” complains one Cambodian teacher. “They lure simple people and children with movies and coloured books. Our own monks have nothing.” Father Francois Ponchaud, who often tries to discourage potential converts, says the pressure exerted by some groups make him “ashamed to be a Christian.” Says the Khmer-speaking Roman Catholic priest: “The tell refugees things have gone so badly for them because they are sinners-and that Christianity will save them. In my view, that’s criminal.”
Such objections have not fazed the more spirited born-again groups. “If we’re accused of teaching about Jesus,” says Michael Winn, 39 the acting director of World Relief, “then we’re clearly guilty as charged. We would be pleased if all Cambodians became Christians but they must do so without coercion.” In addition to providing medical help, World Relief sees its task as rescuing Cambodians from their “spiritual vacuum.” Southern Baptists talk of a “Buddhist terror” they apparently confuse with the atheistic reign of Pol Pot. Youth With a Mission has 35 volunteers working to supply clothing and shelter. But as one notes: “Besides providing physical relief, we want these people to know that God cares for them very much.”
Some refugee conversions undoubtedly are inspired by the selfless good works done by evangelical groups. But behind all the Jesus Loves You T-shirts, others clearly harbor more practical concerns. Throughout Asia, nominal – or “rice bowl” – Christians have long been lured by the opportunities in church-backed schools and social programs. Many Cambodians are being baptized in the hope it will improve their chance for resettlement in the West. Given their precarious position, few require much persuasion. Notes Steve Goode, 30, a Youth With a Mission staffer: “It’s easy to build relationships. Imagine if you’d just lost your home and most of your family.”
Roots: the question is whether a
strange new God is the best way to restore a shattered country. Many Cambodians
and relief workers agree with Father Ponchaud that a better bet is to begin
again from Cambodia’s once-powerful Buddhist roots. But last week, to the
dismay of some onlookers, the dust outside a makeshift Khao-I-Dang church
was whipped up by a crowd of Bible-toting “Christians,” trying to exorcise
“the demons” from a screaming young refugee. The attempt failed, and was
rescheduled for the next day. At a nearby camp, Net Sanh, a 51-year-old
Buddhist priest said sadly: “To the one side we have Pol Pot, to the other
the Christians. I am afraid our Buddhism will disappear.”