Sunday, August 07, 2005


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My first public worship in China – my first Eucharist. The plain brass cross above the sanctuary is outlined in colored lights; the lectern is at the center of the platform, with a simple altar to the left, covered by a white cloth appliqued with a red satin cross. There are folding chairs for the choir on the platform. Potted plants line the front of the platform, some azaleas and cactus. Celebrity worshipers, we foreigners are ushered to the front pews and given Bibles in English and Chinese. We have brought our own Pinyin hymnals, so we can sing along even though we don’t know the meaning. The pews behind us and the gallery above us are packed with people. The seat to my left has been vacated by a man who was sitting there when we arrived. I am a little embarrassed that whenever anyone takes that seat, the ushers shoe them away. Finally, a young woman is allowed to sit there, perhaps by design.

Before the service, a leader is at the lectern guiding the congregation in reciting the scripture for the day, and then practicing two of the four hymns on the program. Singing in Chinese is fun! No tones to worry about, since the melody takes precedence. Hundreds of voices ring out, drowning out the hum of the electric fans. Then the service begins with Hymn 1, which has not been rehearsed. Sheng zai, sheng zai, sheng zai! Holy, holy, holy! There’s an explosion of emotion just north of my solar plexis, and I burst into tears. Everything that has happened in the past twenty months has brought me to this point in space and time, and every molecule of me knows that it is right. I belong right here, singing these mysterious words to this familiar tune.

I get a grip on myself after a while, but not before my pocket is bulging with soggy kleenex. Communion is carried out into the pews by a large group of servers, first the host and then tiny cups of grape juice arranged in trays like miniature muffin tins. With each kind, the consecration takes place after the element is in our hands. After the dismissal, I speak with the young woman who had claimed the seat on my left. Her name is Princess, and she’s a kindergarten teacher in Huzhou. I think perhaps the ushers let her sit there because she speaks such good English. We exchange email addresses and agree to stay in touch.

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~S~