Hong Kong and Macau (3)
Around Hong Kong
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March 1996
On Sunday morning, we took the subway to Hong Kong Island, where Mark Choi met us with a couple vehicles, which drove us to the Ling Ying UB church. According to K. K. Chen, this church received its name as a way to keep alive the legacy of the Ling Ying Middle School, which is really where the Hong Kong churches began.
The church is located on a narrow street on the second floor of a very new apartment building. I counted half a dozen towers around it, all about 23 stories high.
As you go up the wide stairwell to the second level, you pass through a large unfinished area the size of three apartments, all concrete. The church would love to buy it all. Then they'd have a spacious area for worship, Sunday school, and everything else (plus the right to use the stairwell as they chose). The whole thing would be almost as big as just the sanctuary of the church I attend, but huge by Hong Kong standards. However, it would cost them $10 million.
Property ain't cheap in Hong Kong.
So, they confine themselves to a space equal to just one apartment.
About 80 red folding chairs were set up on the small sanctuary's gray tile floor. A massive pulpit, probably four feet wide (I decided they like big pulpits in Hong Kong) with two microphones on it, stood on the slightly raised platform in front of a red velvety curtain. A glossy black Yamaha piano was off to the right. One fellow in bluejeans was setting up the overhead projector with a screen pulled down in front.
It was a predominantly young group. The people are dressed very casually--more so than I've seen at any UB church in the States. Many wore bluejeans and sneakers. Lots of sweaters, a few sweater vests. A handful of ties. Nearly every woman wore slacks. Only a handful of men wore suits (though one guy had a suitcoat over his bluejeans and sneakers).
Another one of my Oriental stereotypes had bitten the dust. When it comes to clothes, they go very casual.
In the back, a mother and her extremely cute little daughter, clad in a red velvet dress and white stockings, were stuffing bulletins. In a room in back, some people were filling up communion cups.
About 9:20, the service started with the chorus "Sing Alleluia to the Lord." In English. Next came much wishing of happy New Year, this being the first Sunday of 1996. After more singing, this time in Chinese, the white-robed choir members formed two rows--three guys in back, seven women in front. The director, standing at a lectern in the back of the sanctuary, moved her hands through the piano introduction to set the beat. She was a real good director, expressive, knew what she was doing. The choir, a very young bunch, kept their eyes focused on her.
Kyle gave the sermon through an interpreter. Then we had communion, and the service concluded with the Doxology.
We rushed outside, where our drivers took us to the Grace church. It was a ten-minute drive along the harbor front on a six-lane divided highway which, at about 11:00 that Sunday morning, wasn't busy at all.
* * * * * *
Grace church is located on a noisy, crowded street. The church occupies three apartments down a narrow hall on the third floor. The room to the left of the entrance was the sanctuary. About 30 people were there as we entered. A woman in a blue-green suit led them in singing "I will Sing of the Mercies of the Lord Forever," in Cantonese, the words displayed via overhead projector. I, of course, only recognized the tune.
A movable partition divided the sanctuary from the middle room, which they use for Sunday school. Two tables were pushed together in the center of the room beneath two ceiling fans. A lady and two young kids sat there throughout the service. Thanks to a video camera mounted in the back of the sanctuary, they could hear and watch the service on a TV standing in one corner. A door led into the third "apartment," which they use for a nursery and other children's ministries.
Kyle spoke again. Then we headed out to lunch with Simon Yu and Natalia Li. Both are administrators in hospitals--she in a psychiatric hospital. When I first saw them, I guessed they were around 22. Turns out he's 30 and she 25. Natalia had lived in Canada several times.
Simon and Natalia were a delightful couple, lots of fun, laughing and joking. When I asked Natalia how to spell her last name, she said "Li" is less common than "Lee."
"It special," she said.
"Abnormal," Simon commented, and she gave him a look.
With them, as with all Chinese people, I didn't see any real difference in our senses of humor. We could joke about the same things. What's funny to us is funny to them; there's no cultural comedy gap, it seemed.
We feasted on a huge meal. Squid. Seaweed. A sweet, white steamed bread stuffed with BBQ pork (real good). A lotus seed roll with a red bean squished inside. A green, broccoli-like vegetable. A scallop and shrimp combo wrapped in a noodle. New things are brought throughout the meal and placed on the rotating glass tray in the middle of the table.
All Chinese restaurants are noisy. The tableware consists of five basic pieces. There's a saucer with a small, handle-less cup for the tea, a larger bowl in which to put rice and other food, and plastic chopsticks, which a waiter removed from a paper wrapping for us. Three ceramic teapots were placed on the table--red, green, and white tea. Tea leaves lined the bottom of the pots; when a pot is empty, someone comes along and refills it with steaming water from a carafe. Let it steep for a bit, and the tea's back in business.
By this time, I was getting the hang of using chopsticks. I could pick up noodles and rice real well, but bigger things, like a thick tubular noodle (good!) kept squirting out of my grasp.
At one point, Simon impersonated the dialect of a waitress, somewhat like faking a southern accent.
"He is very naughty," Natalia said, tapping him on the head in reprimand with the base of two chopsticks.
Somehow, we got to talking about the Simon Says game. Kyle and MarLouise explained how it works. Simon turned to Natalia, shook his finger at her, and said, "You do what Simon says."
* * * * * *
Hong Kong Annual Conference began at 3:30 that Sunday afternoon. It lasted two hours. That's right--two hours. Sure, there are only eight churches. But that includes three big youth centers, a soon-to-open adult center, a new church about to open, mission work in two other countries (Thailand and Macau), and the possibility of launching into Burma. Not to mention huge amounts of money on the books; this is an expensive place to operate.
And they do in two hours what it would take two days to accomplish in the States.
Mark Choi had told us that they send out all reports ahead of time. I asked him if they go through the reports during the meeting. "No," Mark said. "Wastes time."
About 30 people were there, plus our crew. About 4:10, in walked four recent arrivals from Macau: missionaries Luke Fetters and Paul Coy, along with Huntington College president Blair Dowden, Chris Dowden, and son Beau. Dr. Dowden was on a three-month sabbatical, and had just spoken at a symposium Luke had organized for about 30 educators from China.
The conference concluded with an ordination service for Mark Choi.
Mark is an interesting guy. He was a missionary in Vietnam for a year, 1974-1975--the year Saigon fell. He served 30 years in Thailand, plus some years in Thailand and Guatemala. His 15-year-old son, Stephen, now studies in Australia and, they say, speaks Chinese with an Aussie accent. Mark was an excellent choice as Director of Missions for Hong Kong Conference.
Probably 25 members of his congregation came for the occasion. Bishop Seilhamer exhorted Mark to not only love his congregation, but to show them how to love a special woman--Mark's wife, Ruth. At that point, Mark leaned over and planted a big kiss on Ruth's cheek. Everyone laughed and applauded.
Afterwards, his congregation swarmed around him, taking pictures in different configurations for a good 20 minutes. At one point, when he tried to remove his formal robe, they stopped him. No, no, he had to keep it on. This, after all, was a special time for him.
It was neat seeing this superb relationship between a pastor and congregation--that they truly loved him, and he loved them.
* * * * * *
After annual conference, they took us to a restaurant for an amazing Peking Duck feast. I call it The Meal That Would Not End. There were about 12 courses, one thing after another brought to our table. I sat next to Blair and Chris Dowden. No matter what food was set before us, they would eagerly try some. I was more cautious, and several times Chris called me a wimp. "You'll only be here once. Try it," she'd tell me.
I told Blair that he was taking this liberal arts idea too far.
* * * * * *
If you think of Hong Kong as just a huge, busy city, then you're not aware of the New Territories.
The city of Hong Kong is a small part of the area which, in 1997, will pass into the hands of China. In fact, Hong Kong Island and the Kowloon peninsula, where the city is located, could remain in Great Britain's hands permanently; they actually own it, apart from any lease. The Manchus gave Britain sovereignty of these areas after two different wars in the 1800s (the present Chinese government refuses to recognize Manchu treaties). The notorious 100-year lease, signed in 1898, applies only to the New Territories. However, Great Britain decided that everything should stay together, so they are voluntarily relinquishing control of Hong Kong come 1997.
About 90% of Hong Kong's people live in Kowloon and Hong Kong Island. But that's only 10% of the total territory. The rest is part of the New Territories.
You can drive outside of the city of Hong Kong and find yourself amidst mountains and sparsely populated mountainside--not at all the common image of Hong Kong. Every few miles you pass through a quaint village. And here and there, you come upon a large city. One of them is called Tin King. Here, we have a church and youth center in the five-year-old Tin King Estates.
It was a nice city, and not nearly as crowded as Hong Kong. Comfortable. Small shops opened onto the street--a bakery, an optical center, a little market with a bunch of noodles and big jars on shelves, a corner stand with banana bunches hanging from the ceiling, a furniture store, a fruit stand with oranges piled in big trays, an Adidas store, a place selling Los Angeles jeans, a 7-Eleven store. I saw a Tupperware truck with a hotline phone number painted on the side. The taxis are green throughout the New Territories. Many trolley cars, tightly packed with people, ran along electrical wires.
K. K. led us down a wide, mall-type walkway flanked with shops and businesses--a place filled with incubators where people are placing eggs in cartons, a bar, an office of some kind. The place had a comfortable feel, such a relief from the teeming masses of Hong Kong. A number of people were riding bicycles down the sidewalk; you don't see that in Hong Kong. One kid was rollerblading.
The Gospel Center occupies a narrow two-story slice of building. Six floors of apartments rise above it. Peter Lee emerged to greet us, and ushered us into the building. The big lower area was pretty much empty, except for a small table at one end on the green tile floor; a man and two boys were sitting there, doing something. There was another good-sized room upstairs. They didn't actually have possession of the place yet, and wouldn't start using it for another month.
K. K. bought us some bottles of Coke and Sprite at a cubbyhole market across from the Gospel Center. As I stood in the doorway sipping my Sprite and watching a man load two big propane tanks onto a bicycle, a woman approached and started talking. She struck me as the bag lady type. I didn't know what she was asking me, though it clearly had something to do with the Sprite. Did she want the empty bottle when I was done?
K. K. was already coming to my rescue. "I don't know what she's asking me," I told him.
"She wants you to share," he said. K. K. gave her some money and she went away.
* * * * * *
Next stop: Zion Church, where Peter Lee is the pastor.
Zion is the only free-standing UB church in Hong Kong. It felt a lot like some of the old Spanish missions I'd seen in the American southwest. A ten-foot cement wall surrounds the church; the big metal gate padlocks shut. Various kinds of trees, including palms, line the inside walls.
The sidewalk curves to the left, past four brick benches and an old ping pong table, and then you come to the church's tall, narrow wooden doors. The year "1948" is embedded next to some windows above the pointed arch. A bell hangs above the entrance in a glass enclosure jutting out from the front wall. You can ring it from inside on the second floor.
It's a beautiful church. Wood pews, the characteristic big wood pulpit. Peter's upstairs office has a couple computers, a laser printer, a nice Minolta photocopier.We all wished we had been able to attend a service here.
* * * * * *
It was dark when we arrived back in Kowloon. We could feel the city coming alive, its energy picking up, as the nightlife kicked in.
Kyle had spent the day changing plane tickets and getting visas. Here's what would happen. The Bishop, Lance, and I would accompany Peter Lee and Luke Fetters to Thailand; we'd go up and down the mountain the same day. Meanwhile, Kyle, MarLouise, and Mark Choi would go to Burma. Brent would spend those three days in Macau.
* * * * * *
K. K. met us at 10:00 Tuesday morning. We took a double-decker bus back to the harbor, then crossed to Hong Kong Island on the Starline ferry, a big green boat filled with seats and open on all sides.
Leaving the ferry, we saw a half dozen rickshaws lined up, awaiting riders. While rickshaws and Buddhist temples and pagodas are familiar, traditional images of the Orient, they sure weren't typical of Hong Kong. What's typical in 1996 Hong Kong is a briefcase-carrying businessman on the subway looking at his beeping pager and then pulling out his cell phone to make a call. That's what you see everywhere. You have to search for a rickshaw, temple, or pagoda.
We emerged in the city's financial district, a more modern version of downtown Manhattan, with some stunning buildings. K. K. told us this was the most modern part of the city. Hong Kong's stock market is second only to the Tokyo exchange in this part of the world. In general, the people on the street were very well-dressed. They carried briefcases and talked on cell phones.
We filmed here and there. We passed an NBC crew using an earlier version of the camera Lance proudly carried.
In the afternoon we returned to the New Territories to visit the youth center at the Tin King Estates. Then our work in Hong Kong was done.
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Next: Part 4
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