Advent in the Cistern: The Anti-colonial Christian’s Call

Jeremiah 33:14-16 • Psalm 25:1-10 • 1 Thessalonians 3:9-13 • Luke 21:25-36

In many ex-colonies and countries masquerading as free, the prevailing belief is that European colonialism’s chief aim was to spread Christianity. But in some places, being Christian has been ironically recast as a betrayal of the homeland—a symbol of colonial oppression.

Kandhamal, India stands as a grim reminder of this twisted logic. While much of the world celebrated Christmas in 2007 and 2008, Kandhamal’s death toll climbed 30…100…500…. Self-proclaimed “anticolonial nationalists” brutally attacked Christians. They assaulted women, destroyed houses, and torched churches. Violent mobs falsely accused Christians of murdering a local Hindu leader, Swami Lakshmanananda, a man who proudly proclaimed his life’s mission was to “protect the tribals [Adivasi, or Indigenous peoples] from Christian conversion.” Later, Marxist groups claimed responsibility for the murder.

Most of the victims of Kandhamal belong to the Dalits and Adivasis—groups harshly marginalized in Indian society. Dalits, once labeled “Untouchables,” are condemned to the bottom of the Hindu caste hierarchy, while Adivasis, though technically outside this rigid system, remain isolated and excluded. Precolonial and colonial history further complicated these identities, with some Dalits tracing their roots to tribal communities. However, to the frenzied mobs, their conversion stood as a glaring mark of treason—a betrayal of their Indian blood and heritage.

However, to the frenzied mobs, their conversion stood as a glaring mark of treason—a betrayal of their Indian blood and heritage.

Though the Dalits and Adivasis were the primary victims, Thomas Christian leaders—descendants of an ancient Christian tradition in India believed to have been established by the Apostle Thomas in 52 A.D.—were also present in Kandhamal. These leaders became targets, symbolic of the “colonial influence” that the attackers perceived. Thus, in Kandhamal, being Christian absurdly equated to being a colonial traitor, as though faith itself were the imperial invader. This paradox, where the oppressed were branded as colonial agents, echoes the struggles of colonized peoples throughout history.

Thus, in Kandhamal, being Christian absurdly equated to being a colonial traitor, as though faith itself were the imperial invader. This paradox, where the oppressed were branded as colonial agents, echoes the struggles of colonized peoples throughout history.

In Kandhamal, Christians did not meet violence with violence, but instead embraced the formidable power of nonviolent resistance. Nonviolence is an unseen force, quiet yet profound. It is not simply the absence of physical retaliation but a resolute, intentional stance—rooted in love, grounded in justice, and defined by an unshakable refusal to perpetuate harm, even when faced with overwhelming persecution.

The Prophet in the Cistern

Jeremiah, the “Weeping Prophet,” knew this well. He witnessed the conquest of Jerusalem, the destruction of the First Temple, and the exile of the Judeans to Babylon. Betrayed by his people for speaking uncomfortable truths, Jeremiah was abandoned in a cistern and left to die, only to be rescued by an Ethiopian.

Even then, Jeremiah spoke of hope: “In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David, and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land” (Jeremiah 33: 15). These words— “justice and righteousness”—are profound, urging us toward deep repentance and the pursuit of just beliefs and systems. Jeremiah’s message was inherently anticolonial, a faith rooted in nonviolent resistance.

These words— “justice and righteousness”—are profound, urging us toward deep repentance and the pursuit of just beliefs and systems. Jeremiah’s message was inherently anticolonial, a faith rooted in nonviolent resistance.

This kind of hope raises difficult questions: Can a Christian be anticolonial? Can scripture be read through the lens of justice without becoming entangled in the histories of colonial exploitation?

Long before Jeremiah, the psalmist expressed a similar lament: “Do not let my enemies exult over me” (Psalm 25:2). Shame, trust, and betrayal are the emotional landscapes of any subjugated people. The psalms, written centuries earlier, resonate across eras of conquest, from Babylonian sieges to Roman occupations and into the modern colonial expansions that scarred the world.

The pride of the invader remains a bitter wine for the oppressed, and the psalmist’s plea rings as relevant today as it did in ancient times.

The pride of the invader remains a bitter wine for the oppressed, and the psalmist’s plea rings as relevant today as it did in ancient times.

The people in the time of David, Jeremiah, Jesus, and Paul did not float around in spiritual bubbles; their lives were rooted in historical events such as colonial invasions when they strove to bear witness to the right way. Those who followed the Lord’s path waited in humble repentance, challenging corrupt rulers. This is the call of the anticolonial Christian.

A Call to Hope and Justice

This call reverberates throughout history. When the first gunshot echoed across the waves in the fifteenth century, nations were thrown into distress. The Thomas Christians, on whose shores Vasco da Gama arrived, would have called upon the Lord. But Gama was not seeking peaceful dialogue; his goal was control. He pursued retaliation against Muslims and anyone resembling them—including the Thomas Christians. His motivation was not conversion but trade monopoly.

Ironically, centuries later, the Thomas Christian leaders in Kandhamal—alongside other Christian leaders, faced “decolonial” violence from self-proclaimed patriots. The attempt to rid India of colonial remnants made those who had lived on its soil for millennia vulnerable. Their presence, along with that of the Dalit and Adivasi Christians, incited rage and violence from figures such as Swami Lakshmanananda and his followers.

In moments like these, the Christian’s call becomes clearer. Being an anticolonial Christian means finding hope in scripture, even amid persecution. Reading Luke 21:25-36 alongside the Christians of Kandhamal during those difficult Christmases brings new meaning to Jesus’s words:

In moments like these, the Christian’s call becomes clearer. Being an anticolonial Christian means finding hope in scripture, even amid persecution.

There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken…. Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.

At first, Jesus’s words seem alarming. But, like Jeremiah’s moment in the cistern, they are ultimately a call to hope. Jesus urges us to embrace Hallelujahs not rooted in passivity but in repentance and responsibility, calling for defiant holiness even in times of devastation.

Jesus urges us to embrace Hallelujahs not rooted in passivity but in repentance and responsibility, calling for defiant holiness even in times of devastation.

The apostle Paul embraced Jesus’ spiritual and historical direction in the Roman port city of Thessalonica, a major trade centre similar to Bombay, Boston, or Halifax. Colonial port cities, whether blest with Pax Romana or Pax Brittanica, witnessed corrupt administrators, revolutions, and subsequent persecution.

When Paul was persecuted in Thessalonica, his attention turned to others—the community. He prayed that they may be strengthened “in holiness” (1 Thessalonians 3:13) and urged them to promote “love for one another and all” (3:12).

Paul’s teachings called for living with integrity and love, even within corrupt systems—an echo of anticolonial movements resisting exploitation and oppression. His call to holiness and “right living” was to resist participation in these exploitative systems. Holiness here is not merely personal piety but a communal and ethical response to injustice. Holiness builds a society grounded in love, fairness, and justice. It stands in contrast to the self-interest and greed often associated with colonial or corrupt administrations.

Living rightly in oppressive environments can also mean resisting corrupt practices that dehumanize others.

Kandhamal’s Cistern of Hope

Like Jeremiah’s cistern, Kandhamal is a place of waiting, suffering, and, importantly, hope. It stands as a symbol of nonviolent resistance. Anto Akkara, a Thomas Christian journalist and recipient of a Titus Brandsma Award for Journalism, reports that Kandhamal not only bears witness to persecution but has also seen an increase in Christian vocations. Furthermore, some of the perpetrators have experienced deep repentance.

The faith of Kandhamal’s Christians endures, along with their unwavering demand for justice. Their lives are a living Advent—a season of expectation and preparation for the coming of righteousness. Kandhamal’s cistern has not yet run dry—it overflows with patience, nonviolent resistance, and steadfast belief in a just God.

The faith of Kandhamal’s Christians endures, along with their unwavering demand for justice. Their lives are a living Advent—a season of expectation and preparation for the coming of righteousness.

And so, we face a stark yet simple truth: faith becomes the most potent form of anticolonial resistance when held by those who suffer. The Advent of hope is not merely a liturgical season; it pulses as the lifeblood of a people who refuse to be erased—a testament to those who, like Jeremiah in the cistern, rise with their heads held high despite the surrounding devastation. The Christians in Kandhamal remind us that Christ’s call is neither passive nor reserved for private piety. It is a collective, defiant, nonviolent march toward justice and righteousness.

The Advent of hope is not merely a liturgical season; it pulses as the lifeblood of a people who refuse to be erased—a testament to those who, like Jeremiah in the cistern, rise with their heads held high despite the surrounding devastation.

This is the heart of the anticolonial Christian’s call: to keep waiting, to keep hoping, and above all, to keep resisting nonviolently until justice and righteousness reign—not just in heaven but here—in Kandhamal and in every space still groaning under the weight of oppression.

Note: All biblical quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition.

Clara A.B. Joseph is a practising Christian from the ancient community of the Thomas Christians of India. She is a professor of English and an adjunct professor in Religious Studies at the University of Calgary. Her recent academic works include Christianity in India: The Anti-Colonial Turn (Routledge, 2019) and India’s Nonviolent Freedom Struggle: The Thomas Christians (Routledge, 2024). She has also authored poetry collections such as In the Face of the Other: A Long Poem (IP, 2016), Dandelions for Bhabha (IP, 2018), and M/OTHER (Wipf & Stock, 2024). A recipient of the University of Calgary Students’ Union Teaching Excellence Award, she is recognized for her dedication and effectiveness in teaching. For more of her works, go to Amazon.com/author/clara-ab-joseph.