Have faith in
diversity
Nofa Safitri, 24, is a Gusdurian, a supporter of the liberal
values of Indonesia’s
fourth president Abdurrahman ‘Gus Dur’ Wahid.
She decided to test her backing of pluralism by stepping
outside the faith she was gifted at birth. The West Sumatran chose Yogyakarta’s
Jesuit Sanata Dharma
University for her tertiary
education, dismissing relatives’ fears she’d be converted.
“I remember going into the classroom and seeing a cross on the wall,” she said. “I was at first concerned but five minutes later I’d accepted this was the environment. I’m still Muslim.”
“I remember going into the classroom and seeing a cross on the wall,” she said. “I was at first concerned but five minutes later I’d accepted this was the environment. I’m still Muslim.”
Not all are so venturesome. Readers would know of Christians
who’ve never left their shoes outside a mosque, and Muslims who have never fingered
holy water - both for fear of infection.
Not physical diseases, but spiritual corruption.
That’s nonsense, according to craftsman Purboyo. From hooks on the paint-splashed walls of his
Malang workshop
dangle crucifixes big and small, plain and hung with the crippled body of
Christ.
There are also some enigmatic Buddhas with eyes downcast, and
halo-hatted saints, their beatified features staring heavenwards
The statuettes are made by carving moulds of fiberglass and
silicone rubber to take the plaster bodies; the midwife’s tools include a
bucket of calcium carbide and an electric angle-grinder.
Purboyo can create special designs to order and in a hurry for
the homes of Catholics and the niches and nooks of their churches – seldom
those of Protestants. They prefer plain
walls and basic trappings so worshippers aren’t distracted.
(An exception is the All Saints Anglican Church in
Menteng, Jakarta,
which has much to read on the walls should the sermon not inspire.)
On the craftsman’s paintpot-cluttered workbench are more
nativity scenes than a thorough theologian could find in the Gospels. There are
also enough 3D models based on The Last
Supper 15th-century mural by Leonardo da Vinci to
remind all that there were no women present – not even as servers - at this
seminal event.
Most buyers of this art would expect the maker to be a
churchgoer, well versed in the faith he portrays. Yet the religion on Purboyo’s
KTP (ID card) reads ‘Islam’.
At one level this can be seen as an example of Indonesian
tolerance. On another it could mean the
fundamentalists have yet to find him.
No problems?
“No. Why should there
be?” he replied. “At their roots all
faiths are much the same. The gap
between them is very small.
“My village (about ten kilometers outside the East Java city) is totally Muslim. But so far no-one has bothered me. They know
what I do. Radicals aren’t religious, they just want controversy. If anyone starts trouble I’ll explain my
thinking.”
This is certainly unconventional. Although officially a
member of the nation’s dominant religion, Purboyo’s real beliefs are Javanese
Kebatinan which pre-dates Islam.
Also known as Kejawen and Kepercayaan, it’s a complex mix of
Hindu and Buddhist teachings plus animism pre-dating Islam and
Christianity. The traditional religion
of Java is not officially recognized but instead classified as a cultural
practise.
Numbers of practitioners are hard to find as they keep a low
profile. They seldom gather in open
groups and often publicly follow a mainstream creed while harboring different
ideas. Sometimes their presence is only
revealed when incense sticks are found at ancient temple sites after special
nights on the five-day Javanese calendar.
Purboyo practices his doctrines alone; they involve bathing
and long meditations. He’s been to the
graves of the Walisongo, the nine Islamic saints who are believed to have
spread Islam in Java, though not to pray.
He doesn’t go to mountain summits or deep caves, the
retreats of second President Soeharto who was raised in Javanese mysticism, but
contemplates at home.
Instead his hero is Soekarno who is buried in Purboyo’s home
town Blitar. The first President’s
portraits also hang on the dusty walls.
“Just talking about him gives me goosebumps,” he said, pointing to the
rising hairs on his forearms. “He’s my hero.
“Sometimes when I’m in a bad mood I find the faces of my
statuettes look grim, which doesn’t please buyers. Imagine a Mother Mary with outspread arms
welcoming sinners, yet she seems miserable.
Who’d ever want to go to her? So I have to be careful when I work –
which is often late at night.”
Comparison with Russian composer Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker
or fictional woodcarver Geppetto’s puppet Pinocchio is rejected; “There’s no spirit in my statues – they’re
just that,” said Purboyo. “Magic is not involved.”
He learnt his craft while working for an antique dealer and
watching colleagues fix broken objects with fiberglass. He eventually started his own studio and
sells his products through Christian shops, competing with imports from Italy.
Islam prohibits representations of living things, and not
just people. This has helped create a
vast flowering of abstract art and colorful patterns that don’t appear in
nature and can often be seen on the domes of mosques. The ban is said to prevent idolatry and
recognize Allah as the only creator.
“Muslims are allowed to have calligraphy on their walls, but
my skills aren’t good enough,” said Purboyo. “So I stick to Buddhist and Catholic
art.” His buyers know he doesn’t share their faiths – but seem unconcerned.
His ideas have been garnered from other followers of Kebatinan
for there are no dedicated buildings or services. Purboyo gets much of his thinking from personal
discussions with another mystic. He
claims sicknesses have been cured following rituals.
Both his parents were Muslims though an older sister has
converted to Christianity. His wife Eny
Juwantiningsih is a pre-school teacher and they have two children: “We will give them moral direction but they
must then find their own way,” he said. “They won’t go to religious schools.”
Reincarnation is not part of the Kebatinan belief system
though Purboyo ponders the possibilities.
When he dies and gets confronted by the six doors of Indonesia’s
government-approved faiths, which one will he knock?
“That won’t happen,” he said firmly. “There are no separate religions in heaven.”
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