Church in China

Today I got to go to church for the first time in about three months.  I didn't think there would be one in a smaller city like Jiaxing (aside from the vacant, dilapidated French Cathedral), but apparently there are at least three "underground" churches.  One of my fellow teachers got me in touch with a girl named Jessie, who took me downtown to her parrish.  I felt slightly rebellious; It's ironic that a southern-boy would feel that way going to church.  Religion's making its way back to China I think, but it's still not exactly encouraged.  I remember reading somewhere that missionaries who went to China were not allowed to proselytize or "evangelize."  Then again, in a world with Pat Robertson that's pretty sensible.  And besides, the last time I proselytized anything it wasn't religion, but the shot-glasses my Frat made all the pledges sell that Fall.  All I really wanted to do was experience a Chinese church and maybe, just maybe, get an extra boost of that vague, esoteric spiritualism which I need now and then.

I honestly first thought that I had walked into a book club.  There were Christian books on three cases, and the top shelf of one was dedicated to a hero of mine: Dietrich Bonhoeffer--obviously the "theologian-of-the-month."  What I thought was the actual church actually turned out to just be the reception/reading area (hereafter to be called the "narthex").  After a few hellos we went up the narrow staircase to the "sanctuary," were there were many more people. We sat down in school desks piled with liturgical and hymnic texts of some vague, Protestant nature which were of course in Mandarin.  Fortunately Jessie had an English-Chinese Bible on hand.  Gradually the sanctuary filled up with about 25 or so people.

The service was over an hour long, and involved a lot of singing.  Though I had heard some of the music before, I didn't recognize any of the hymns and couldn't really sing along (though I could have sworn I heard my university's alma mater in there somewhere).  Fortunately the Chinese for "Jesus" was easy to pick out because it is almost phonetically identical to the English pronuciation.  Also I could pick out a "we" here and there as well as the omnipotent "He," "His," and "Him."

There were two preachers (lay I believe) who delivered the liturgy and the sermon, and except for the Apostles Creed, most everything was unintelligible.  However, most of the sermon was spent referencing various NT verses (and a few OT messianic references) which I could simultaneously read in translation.  Despite this I couldn't figure out what the overarching theme connecting them was.  Suffering maybe.

The service ended with a long, but impassioned prayer from an older women, who unexpectedly became incredibly emotional toward the end.  In fact despite the language barrier, I could feel a great deal of spiritualism coming from the entire congregation--a spiritualism which has had very little chance for expression.  

At the end, sipping on hot water in the narthex, I met a few more of the churchgoers.  The usual questions abounded ("From where?" "Teach where?" etc.) and I was invited to come back and teach the children a Bible lesson in English.  I'm probably the wrong person to turn to for a Bible lesson, and the Church itself is probably on some watch list, but I'd be glad to come back.  After all, it's not "evangelizing" if they're already Christian, right?  Right?  

Leb wohl.