Holy Week in Lanzhou: Monday, a dust storm, Tuesday, a snow storm, freezing temperatures all week. Central heat was turned off by the Central Government on April 1, so morning is chilly, grinding the coffee beans in the breezy kitchen.

Good Friday at Xiao Gou Tou Church: the nuns’ lilting chant sounds like Latin, though of course it’s Chinese. The huge crucifix is veiled in black; Bishop Joseph and Deacon Paul intone the stations of the cross in unison. The congregation murmurs in the echoing, cold church.

Holy Saturday: Students come by to color Easter eggs. Everyday eggs are all brown in Lanzhou, but baskets of white ones are sold near the hospitals – expensive, but the basket itself is a bonus. (I think this is supposed to be a gift for new mothers and babies.) We watch a DVD every Saturday – this week it’s Seabiscuit. I was looking for something about redemptive love – the film is a hit with this group of students.







The Great Vigil of Easter: The fire is kindled out in the courtyard. We are too far out in the crowd to see, but it must be a small bonfire, judging by the plume of smoke. The flame passes from the Pascal candle, person to person, candle to candle through the throng, and we follow the procession into the church.

Rae has been asked to read a lesson in English, Isaiah 55:1-11.
We celebrate the baptism of about twenty children and adults. First the Bishop blesses gallons and gallons of water. He plunges the base of the Pascal Candle in each plastic barrel and makes the sign of the cross. At the end of the service, worshipers will bring empty bottles of all kinds to retrieve holy water to take home with them. This custom is new to me; I haven’t brought a container.

Rae and I are enlisted for the offertory procession – always an elaborate affair at Xiao Gou Tou, and tonight it is appropriately large and colorful. We two have been given plates of eggs to carry to the altar. Humble brown eggs have been decorated with magic marker by the children. They bear smiley faces, hearts and flowers; one on Rae’s plate says "I love my God," in childish block letters, in English.




It is a fabulous thing, this community of faith . . . the longer I live in Lanzhou, the more amazing I find it. I am still trying to wrap my mind around what it means to be Chinese, to live in this society. Not long ago a student visiting my apartment, a prominent student leader, was examining my Bible. He told me that his parents are Christians, but his teachers have always advised him not to become a Christian. Slowly it dawned on me that, of course, as a leading student and up-and-coming young man, he must be a member of the Communist Party – and so to be a Christian is unthinkable – whatever his heart may tell him. Tonight I saw a young couple carry their infant son to the altar to be baptized – something we do casually in the U.S. We take the sacrament seriously, of course, but we enjoy its blessing for ourselves and our children without risk or anxiety. God’s grace is a free gift everywhere, but in China it comes at a price.

Fuhuo jie kuaile!(Happy Festival of the Resurrection!) Happy Easter!