Eric's Beijing Diary

Last night I asked the folks at the youth hostel if they knew of any churches in the neighborhood. I have the Amity Church list, but it's kinda hard to tell just where each of the churches on the list are, and whether or not they are anywhere near the hostel. One of the staff members here told me there was a church nearby, and gave me the name of the bus stop. Turned out to be a Catholic church, not "Jidujiao." I am not Catholic, but the 10 o'clock mass was just getting started, so I decided to stay.

Catholic churches in China are quite traditional, just like protestant churches. Going to church in China is a bit like entering a time warp. The church was more or less frozen in time after the 1949 revolution. American journalists writing about China tend to contrast the established Catholic church (the one that is registered with and sanctioned by the government) as supporting the party, while the underground Catholic church is loyal to the pope. But this is misleading. Although the government regulated church outwardly supports the party, it is quite clear that the laobaixing think of the pope as their "father." As I said, Catholics in China are quite traditional.

Not being Catholic, it is a bit presumptuous for me to compare mass in China with mass in America, because I have only been to mass anywhere a handful of times. But there did seem to be one or two things that were different from what I have seen in the States. Somehow I had forgotten the part where they throw the water on you--thought someone had dropped their water bottle or something. Maybe that's one of those things that is no longer done in American Catholic churches. It wasn't a problem, though, because Chengdu is pretty sultry in the summer. Felt good, actually.

It's probably better for me to focus on the difference between Protestants and Catholics in China, because that is a comparison that I have at least a hope of making. I have mentioned this before, but the Chinese term for "Protestant" is Jidujiao. But Jidujiao doesn't actually mean "Protestant," it means "Christian." So for Chinese folks, it becomes a comparison between "Catholic" and "Christian." That's why, when they express the question in English, they always say, "Are you Catholic or Christian?" American Catholics sometimes bristle at this question.

"Catholics are Christians!"

I understand their pique, but I have to say that I actually prefer the Chinese way of expressing the comparison, because I have never liked the word "protestant." In all the years I lived in America, I refused to use it to define myself. A protestant is someone who "protests." But I am not on a protest against the Catholic church. I have argued with Protestants a lot more than I have with Catholics. I always say, "I am a believer." That distinguishes me from unbelievers, a distinction I can accept. It does not distinguish me from Catholics or Protestants who are also believers, a distinction I could never accept.

That being said, there are some things one notices when attending a Catholic service after going to church every Sunday in a "Protestant" church. Since I am not from a Catholic background, my observations are just that--observations. Perhaps those of you who are Catholics can help me to understand. If nothing else, I would be interested in knowing what you think, especially if you have some familiarity with the Catholic church in China.

The first thing I noticed, was that there were no Bibles. I did see a couple elderly ladies holding some sort of prayer book that may have had scripture portions in it. But most of the people carried only a song book of some kind. No Bible. In the early years of New China, the Bible was basically contraband material. Small numbers of Bibles were smuggled in or copied by hand and passed around. Then, in 1981, Western Christians landed a million Bibles on the coast of South China in an operation that has come to be known as "Project Pearl." This incredible smuggling operation was profoundly embarrassing to the Chinese government, and after this they seemed to lose heart. Gradually, the reins were loosened and the Bible was allowed to be published. When I first came to China, Amity in Nanjing was printing a million Bibles a year. I just heard recently that they have a new press that is gearing up to print one million Bibles a month. Yet, in a congregation of hundreds of people this morning, there was not a Bible in sight. For someone who comes from a background where the Bible is considered a precious book, the impression was quite overwhelming.

In the Three-Self (Protestant) Churches I have attended in China, believers will often get into discussions about some particular Biblical text, and they will discuss the meaning of that text whether or not there is a pastor there to verify their interpretation. Catholic believers would not be able to do this, even if they were allowed to. They don't read the Bible.

The second thing is of a more personal nature. In the Catholic church in China, they don't serve you the wine when you take communion. Didn't stop me from participating, of course. I'll take what I can get. But I have to confess to feeling a little cheated. I'm a sinner; I need the blood.

I lined up with everyone else. As I was returning to my seat, I was filled with a realization of the goodness of God. I don't know what it was, exactly. Perhaps the extraordinary friendliness of these Catholic folks, who can tell that I am not familiar with everything that is going on, and are so helpful in guiding me through the process. Or maybe just the awareness that God is so high above our petty differences. I lifted my hands to God in worship and praise. Then I sat down and partook of his grace. I used that little wafer they give you for the bread, and my water bottle for the wine. Sometimes one has to make do.