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Some Jesuits were better at adapting than others -- there were a number of Jesuits in high-profile positions in Eastern missions who had a great deal of trouble with cultural differences and who vehemently resisted what we might characterize as cultural adaptation. Compare two contemporaries of Matteo Ricci, Francisco Cabral and Alessandro Valignano -- both men held offices of considerable personal influence and discretion in the governance of Jesuit affairs, but they disagreed massively about how to proceed with the Jesuit presence in the East. Cabral openly expressed contempt towards local cultures, while Valignano prioritized a strategy of cultural adaptation. Valignano identified seven principles of Cabral's strategy as mission superior in Japan before his own arrival there -- harsh discipline, rigid differences in treatment of Japanese and Portuguese, insistence that the Japanese must accommodate themselves to Europeans rather than the other way around, harsh criticism of Japanese customs of dress and lifestyle, refusal to teach the Japanese any academic disciplines or European languages, refusal to establish seminaries that might train Japanese men for priesthood, and insistence that missionaries need not bother learning more than extremely basic Japanese. In contrast, Valignano advocated language proficiency, treating the Japanese with equality and respect, and requiring Portuguese Jesuits to accommodate themselves as much as possible to Japanese customs -- effectively, Jesuits needed to become Indians in India, Chinese in China, Japanese in Japan.

Cabral's approach to life in Japan seems as different from Valignano's as night and day, and it sounds a hell of a lot less like what we have come to think as the Jesuit strategy in China and Japan -- but it was still a recognizable strategy to addressing cultural difference, one that would eventually be supplanted with another, more effective strategy. (Within a certain set of parameters, anyway -- the Jesuit missions in China and Japan both met with considerable resistance and persecution, the former foundering at the end of the Ming dynasty and the latter culminating in memorable amount of bloodshed.) Valignano didn't merely rebuke Cabral's approach because it struck him as bigoted, but also because it struck him as inefficient, an inadequate means of spreading the Gospel and extending Jesuit influence -- poor education and poor communication necessarily produced poor results. How could Japanese lay catechists be expected to educate their countrymen when they were barely permitted to learn what they were meant to teach? How could Portuguese missionaries discuss sophisticated theological concepts with any persuasiveness if they spoke such rotten Japanese? Matteo Ricci expressed similar arguments in support of the complete education of converts in India who chose to take lay orders; in many ways he was the ideal manifestation of Valignano's strategy as applied to China. In his travels Ricci adopted recognizably Chinese clothing and customs while extending Christian influence with his European education and European-style gifts for his hosts to excite their scientific and artistic curiosity. Above all, Ricci's gifts had to prove that Christianity was not merely inoffensive to Chinese sensibilities, but that it held the potential for intellectual enrichment. Even Ricci struggled with some cultural differences -- there's an anecdote to the effect that the Jesuit was considered remarkable for his refusal to lie even under circumstances Chinese contemporaries and plenty of Europeans would consider permissible, like pretending to be out of the house when too tired to see guests -- but his eagerness to observe the particulars of regional life and his readiness to accept the advice of Chinese allies like the convert Qu Taisu put him in a more agreeable position than if he'd subscribed to Cabral's unyielding approach. Ricci flung himself wholeheartedly into the study of court customs, accepting correction from Chinese allies when necessary, and his letters also indicate a keen eye toward the nitty-gritty of urban and rural life -- he remarks on beautiful landscapes, urban landmarks, garments and dietary habits, and in addition to noting influential courtiers and civil servants he notes the presence of salespeople and prostitutes, fortune tellers and card players, elderly people and children. With every scientific topic he scrutinizes how the state of contemporary knowledge within China might compare to his own and his European peers'. Ricci was equipped with an uncommonly powerful memory and a careful eye, and I don't doubt that these qualities distinguished him from other Europeans traveling in China, even his fellow Jesuits.

Adaptation to local differences was a strategy for proselytization, and it got results -- Jesuits corresponded extensively with one another and strategized their approaches to localized interests and obstacles. In that respect the Society operated a little like a major corporation, with a hierarchy of individuals overseeing increasingly specialized undertakings with a common purpose and a common set of priorities but a fair amount of individual discretion between divisions. (In Valignano's case, he came to the Visitorship during a significant period of interpersonal tension between Jesuit factions, and was able to use his authority as Visitor to strong-arm some significant changes.) Jesuits established strategic outposts in Asia as sites of study for incoming Jesuits -- at the Jesuit colleges in Macau or Goa, an enthusiastic newcomer from Italy or Portugal could undertake rigorous and immersive language training and familiarize himself with the politics and customs of the region to which he would be assigned, and even acclimate himself to unfamiliar food and climate; an enthusiastic convert from China or Japan might relocate to Macau or Goa in order to become familiar with the academic and cultural expectations of the Society in a quintessentially Jesuit setting. There were Dominican and Franciscan outposts as well in Goa and Macau, and the significance of other orders' efforts is sometimes downplayed because it's not as striking as the achievements of Jesuits like Ricci, but the pipeline preparing fresh Jesuits for service in East Asia was uncommonly robust.

The Jesuits had a pretty full toolbox for ways to approach cultural difference in the East. On the one hand: language competency, participation in local traditions, the adoption of local clothing and housing, and the adoption of various social roles -- positioning themselves as itinerant monks in plain cotton robes like those worn by Buddhist counterparts or as gentleman scholars in courtly silk, depending on which would achieve the desired impact on the local movers and shakers. (This wasn't deceitful, necessarily, because after all Jesuits were both scholars and clergymen… but this kind of image control was the kind of unexpectedly worldly maneuver that wasn't necessarily endearing to those outside the Society, or even those within the Society who balked at seeing their peers wearing expensive silk and being waited on by servants in order to fit in with their desired social class.) On the other hand: stubborn refusal to learn local languages, the denial and disparagement of local traditions even if they could be reasonably characterized as secular, hostility toward the complete education of native converts, and enforced conformation to European-style clothing and habits. The failure of language need not be deliberate to shape the course of Jesuit efforts -- it's quite common in accounts of Eastern missions to encounter Jesuits annoyedly reporting that they can't communicate with the locals to their own satisfaction despite the training they received in Macau, or that significant miscommunications have occurred in translation. The Society of Jesus might pride itself on eloquent and persuasive communication, but the strain of language difficulty wasn't an easy fix in Eastern missions -- even extremely erudite and well-lettered Jesuits who spoke a half-dozen European languages might run aground on translation issues, difficult terminology, or other obstacles to language education. When translating a dialogue on religious differences, do you use a Latin word for a Christian term for which no obvious equivalent presents itself in the target language, or will a transliterated Portuguese word do, or do you take a risk and pick a word in the target language that seems right, but might hold undesirable nuances of meaning? What word do you use for the Christian God? What word do you use for the soul? When your devotional book describes the nails that pierced Christ's hands and feet as "sweet", is that sweet like sweet music or sweet like candy? Translation is hard enough at the best of times, with a full suite of 21st century tools at your convenience, and there were undoubtedly some flubs even among the most competent speakers, and the assistance of local translators was a frequent necessity.