Merry Christmas!

Dancing round the Christmas tree, a Scandinavian tradition.Picture taken on Christmas Eve.

That's a tradition I learned last year from Maria, who's from Sweden. This Christmas we had a Dane who suggested we dance (a very slow dance, aka walking) around the Christmas tree after the candles were lit and the Christmas story read.

An empty chair

Two of my Swedish friends went to Oslo yesterday for the Nobel Peace Prize, while I watched the ceremony live on the Internet.

The empty chair in Oslo City Hall reminded me of the empty pulpit from Monday.

The symbolism was strong, the pain was real.

The speech read by the Norwegian actress Ullman was moving.

Who could have said he/she has no enemies? Who could have said he/she doesn't hate?

In this season of Advent, I'm still expecting...

An empty pulpit

The Advent wreath candles had been lit; the pianist had played and stopped; all of a sudden, the air became still and the quietness of the chapel was almost touchable. I could hear people behind me turning round by the shuffling sounds of paper, bags and who knew what. A moment of suspension stood in front of us before the piano was played again.

The speaker was nowhere to be seen. The pulpit stood singularly at the left of the chapel; the candles continued to burn without flicker.

The pianist asked us to sing one of the songs in the Taize hymn book.

We sang, dutifully, three times of that short hymn.

Then we stopped; I heard someone breathing heavily.

The speaker was still absent, a very pronounced absence.

We sang another hymn after someone came to the pianist and said a few words in her ears.

The candles went on giving light as if nothing unusual had happened.

Should we sing a third hymn? Let's not worry about what to sing next, there were plenty of songs in that little hymn book.

Then, the speaker walked up and stood in front of the altar, and he began the service in the name of God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Did I hear a sigh of relief?

Do you know we are in the season of Advent? Do you know its meaning?

It's about waiting.

Waiting, that's what we did in chapel on Monday.

Waiting, that's what the preacher wanted us to experience.

We expected something to happen.

We waited.

Advent is about waiting.

Amen.

(More On, In and Around Mondays here.)

A see-you-suddenly Monday

Ok, what are the chances of bumping into a friend, or more than one friend, when there's a big sales going on and the shopping malls are just flooded with shoppers?

Well, I met 6 on Monday. So let's celebrate and spread our see-you-suddenly tradition.

(More On, In and Around Mondays here.)

A new grandfather

My best friend has become a grandfather today!!!! Wow!!!!

Congratulations!

Fika in HK

Adding finishing touches to a world map while having fika.

Fika is a very important part in the Swedish life. It is like a coffee break. Of course, you don't only drink coffee. There can be cakes, ice cream...whatever you like.

I once said to my Swedish friend who has a Ph.D degree, "The requirement to finish a doctoral degree shouldn't state how many pages of dissertation you should write, but how many fikas you should have." He agreed.

Yesterday (Monday) was the second last day of the Jacobssons' family's stay in HK. We had a "meet-you-suddenly" dinner before we headed for MacDonald's for a fika.

Always fika!!!! Friends, I'll miss you. May God give us the chance to have more fikas together.

(More On, In and Around Mondays here)

All Saints Day

Life is transient.

I went to the TFS cemetary again on Monday evening with about 60 participants of the annual All Saints Day Communion Service. We first gathered by the fish pond at the seminary. All of us were given a candle and a liturgy folder. A Taize hymn was sung before we walked to the cemetary in silence.

Candles had been placed at both sides of our way to lead us. The weather was unually calm. We used to have strong wind blowing out almost all the candles. The absence of street lamps meant we were able to see more stars high above us.

We stood in a circle on the grassy patch of land in the cemetary. The tomb of one of the founders of TFS was there.

We remembered the deceased, our beloved ones.

We were not afraid of death because death had already been defeated.

We shared the holy communion; we shared the peace.

It's my third time to attend this service.

I wondered if it would be my last.

Life is transient.

(More On, In and Around Mondays here)

Fill beans

These two words were beaming at us from the display on the coffee machine.

The us here were from four different places: the USA, Denmark, Norway and Hong Kong. The coffee machine needed filling, so Miss Denmark went to seek help from the office, while the rest of us formed a crescent and talked about the worship service yesterday.

Miss Denmark and I enjoyed seeing other "suddenly", unplanned, just let life be our guide. We met each other suddenly yesterday while I was walking up hill and she was going in the same direction in a taxi. Today was another nice surpirse; and she brought with her Miss USA and Miss Norway.

Coffee brought us today; love brought us together.

Coffee beans filled the machine; friendship filled my heart.

(On, In and Around Mondays here.)

Idling at TFS while a typhoon's approaching

The weather today looked lovely though. Sunshine, cool breeze, and I was in absolutely no hurry.

Suddenly blue. Did someone put a new patch here?

The flowers have come back!

Birgitte's pots are blooming again. Regeneration, renewal, life is fragile, but it also refuses to leave too easily.

From hectic to calm, with N.T. Wright in between

Mondays are busy days. Work in the morning and class at the seminary in the afternoon.

I usually like a cup of coffee before class starts. I need the aroma to wake me up.

This Monday was a even more hectic day. Working on a very important proposal while my not-so-understanding colleague who happened to have the idea that he's the most important person in the department refused to leave me alone to my work. I am afraid I lost some of my cool demeanour when he insisted on his right to jump the long queue after I had explained the him for the thousandth time that first-come-first-serve was the rule. Ok, if you wanted to be served first, please talk to the head.

I needed to get out of the office for the group presentation in class. I was going to be N.T. Wright to have a dialougue of the meaning of justification by faith with a rather charismatic pastor.

Anyway, I managed to finish that proposal, got my coffee and had a group presentation that was kind of fun. We ended up having three N.T. Wrights (I nicknamed them Right, Righter, and Rightest.) and a Paul who read the Epistle to the Romans in Greek.

The class finished at 5:20 pm. I dropped in to Best Friend's office before heading home. His office was locked so I couldn't just walk in. I decided to knock on his windows instead. We exchanged a few words through the windows, also kind of fun. Maybe he's still working on the sermon for a funeral in the next day.

Life and death. A funeral was on the way. I had helped translating the liturgy into Chinese. Best Friend isn't a typical pastor here. I haven't never met another here who would sweep the floor, bake the Eucharist bread, moving the chairs...whatever chores you can think of that a church needs.

I learned something today. Let go and let things happen. The presentation did come out alright. The teacher liked it, and the classmates had a good time too. And I got to see the beautiful orange sun while leaving the seminary. God also gave me the blessing of having the company of Monie to walk down to the city centre together. We had been in the same class twice before and she appreciated my work a lot, always so encouring.

Winter should be approaching. The ants at my home are busying themselves. Let's enjoy the cooler weather and the sunset.

Sun already setting when I left the seminary

More On, In and Around Mondays here.

Teaching Cantonese

Amber and Kevin are two new friends of mine from the US. They are going to stay with us for about 3 months.

Going about in HK without Cantonese the local language is absolutely possible. Some inconveniences for sure, but you can go on with your life just fine.

I am impressed by Amber and Kevin's eagerness to learn the language especially they are only here for 3 months.

They invited me to teach them some Cantonese, so we did it last night over dinner in a nice resturant.

"Thank you" proved once again difficult for non-native speakers of Cantonese. Not even Mandarin speakers can manage that well. There are two ways to say "thank you", namely 唔該 (ng goi) and 多謝 (dor tse). The former is used when, for example, someone helps you by keeping the door open for you, or passing you the salt and pepper; while the latter can be used to thank people for giving you a gift.

I also taught them the numbers. Once you master numbers one to ten in Cantonese, you can count from one to 99.

We had a good time. The restaurant was full of our laughter. The waiters smiled when they heard us saying "thank you". Maybe they had too much fun too. Getting my orders wrong, I began to suspect my Cantonese wasn't really that good after all.

Thanks friends for that wonderful evening of friendship and language.

(Other On, In and Around Monday posts here.)

Craft

I kind of regret that I haven't really learned any craft work when I was younger. The only thing I could do with pride was knitting, but alas, my skin doesn't allow me to touch wool now.

Cross stitch tool I got from an outdoor market

Embroidery is something I want to learn. Unfortunely in this age in HK, people are doing much more exciting things. I suspect you can't make a decent living by selling embroidery tools, I am still looking for tools and books for instruction.

But we can still get cross stitch tool. Well, maybe I should relearn how to use a needle first. Cross stitch, here I come.

No greater love than this

You have laid down your comfort, freedom and whatever beautiful things that life could have given you.

You are such a brave person, and so is your wife.

Tribute to Mr Liu Xiaobo, who is awarded the 2010 Nobel Peace Prize.

What is hope?

Dreams coming true?

Pay a few dollars in order to buy a hope.

Sometimes I wonder why I'm not buying that hope.

A cup of cappuccino

When Birgitte "discovered" me with a warm smile on her face, I was standing at the coffee machine in Pilgrim's Hall, looking forward to my salvatoin before class started in 15 minutes.

The semester has just started for a month. We're still not very clear about each other's schedule. She likes saying "See you suddenly." And I've done my part to surprise her with this "suddenly".

The coffee smelt revigorating, and seeing the familiar face of a dear friend was energizing.

I told Birgitte I had just got 3 liters of red wine for our Holy Communion. Our communion bread is homemade, and we have actually thought about making our own wine. But then it would be too expensive. We are a congregation with no income.

With a cup of cappuccion in my hand, we walked out of Pilgrim's Hall, enjoying our chat and the cooler weather. Autumn seemed to be here, finally. No more sweating non-stop.

Before we said goodbye to each other, we agreed to meet after my class so that we could walk down from Tao Fong Shan (meaning Logos Wind Hill) to the city centre. Her company was much welcome. I had spent the first four Mondays of the semester leaving on my own, and three out of four time found me walking along the little path anticipating meeting some not so welcome "neighbour".  They're the wild boars, dogs and monkey, sometimes even snakes. "Animals, animals, God made all the animals~~" we sang in one of our chapel services and from time to time, I had to remind myself of the lyrics.

With my mind eased, I went to the seminary for my Romans class.

(See more On, in  and Around Monday stories in Seedlings in Stone. )

Reading Romans, reading N.T. Wright

What is faith? What is justification? Why did Paul write such a letter to the church in Rome?

I'm reading N.T. Wright for two reasons: 1) to prepare a group presentation on the New Perspective on Paul, and 2) his books are good read.

I'm excited by what I am reading about this new perspective. There are so so so many things that I have never heard in any local churches. I also want to learn New Testament Greek. The puns in Paul's letters are fun! I would love to be able to read the Greek original just for the puns.

I asked a classmate about the meaning of sin. She replied, "It's not believing God."

There are so many definitions in need. I asked her to define the word "believe".

N.T. Wright has given me many new ideas. Unfortunately, it's still a lonely path as the other members of my group in the Romans class are too busy to start our group work.

Greek is fun (according to our beloved teacher Dr Zimmerman); and his Romans class is fun too. (Not a big surprise, right?) He is such a good teacher. No one is afraid to speak out. And he makes us students so happy, it's as if everything we say is full of insights, every idea we have is worthi discussing.

Thanks Dr Zimmerman! You show me what an excellent teacher is like.

The same orange

This is the ending of the sermon I preached on Sunday:

A young HK writer was buying oranges in a market.

The shop owner had just opened a carton of oranges.

The writer was quite pleased to be the first to choose among the luscious, round and shiny oranges.

Then a bald man came standing next to him, obviously sharing his thought.

This man proved to be the more aggressive one in picking good oranges.

Very soon, he had got most of the good oranges.

The young writer could only get 3 passably good ones.

After grudgingly paying for the fruit,

the young writer paused a moment,

“Wait. That man looked familiar.”

It turned out that his “competitor”

was his friend’s father who had just recovered from cancer.

The baldness was due to chemo.

The young writer learned a lesson:

It only takes an orange to rob you of your sense of human fellowship and kindness. Yes, sometimes it takes only something

as trivial as an orange to blind us of the reality of God’s reconciliation.

If this story were a segment in a TV drama,

it definitely would not win our applause.

But when we realize that there is reconciliation even in such a small unimportant incident,

that no relationship is too trivial that God doesn’t reconcile,

then maybe we will applaud

not because the bad guys are punished and the good guys rewarded,

but because, one has chosen to come and live among us, even though it is unreasonable to do so.  Amen.

The theme of the sermon was reconciliation, the text was Luke 16: 19-31.

A very well received sermon.

On the same night, I got a text message from a friend who told me she had me in her mind while peeling an orange in a silent retreat. She wanted to send me an SMS then, but didn't because she didn't want to break the retreat rules.

The orange reminded me of her because she used to peel oranges for me when we went retreat together. I didn't do that because the orange juice stung my skin.

So while it takes only an orange to rob us of our sense of human kindness, it also takes only an orange to remind us the beauty of friendship.

Why not eat an orange now?

Can we go beyond a Confucian kind of Christianity?

Confuciansim can be a form of control that makes use of the boundary of relationship to confine people to certain positions in a hierarchy. It is very hierarchical and pretty much about staying in where one is. It is relational but not in the sense of people being in communion. There is also the idea of making straight (修正).

What happens when an institutional religion with a clear hierarchy goes hand in hand with Confucianism as interpreted above?

I am beginning to have the opinion that the merging of Confucianism and Christianity helps bringing about the worst in both of them. As a result, we find the HK church scene more Confucian than many other sectors of the HK society.

Well, these are just some preliminary thought. Need more time to think them over.

Are there any female pastors?

That was a question from my mother. She thought there were only male ones.

My reply was, "Hey mom, you know one. Our friend Maria is a pastor."

I then added, "Eva, the Danish woman we met on Cheung Chau, she is a pastor too."

But my mom didn't look very convinced. And Maria and  Eva do not fit into the stereotype of a local female evangelist/pastor. Their mini-skirt and sleeveless clothes will surely caused many (not just a few) eyebrows raised. They are also not those submissive and self-effacing type of women.

You know what, they have inspired me that being a woman in a church doesn't mean that you have to be soft and quiet and feminine in the wrong way. You can also preach with the confidence that you are a child of God.

The question of whether I will be a pastor has been raised not too infrequently recently. It probably has a lot to do with my upcoming graduation from the seminary. I know the model answer would be "Let's see how God will lead me," But I'm not usually satisfied with any "correct" answers.

The Pope is currently making his state visit to Britain. I have been surprised by the word "state". Maybe I am being rebellious or politically incorrect or whatever you want to say, but is Vatican a state? I'm interested in the protests that the Pope has aroused in Britain. Those protestors are not necessarily anti-Catholic. Some of them are dissatisfied in how the Catholic Church is dealing with sexual abuse of children by priests; some people ask questions on the role of women in the church.

But don't let us the Protestants get too smug. In practice, there are much fewer women who get ordained. There are still some Protestant churches that deny the right of women to be ordained. Sometimes women can't even preach. They are supposed to serve in Children's church, arranging flowers, playing the piano, or be the pastor's wife.

Am I seeking ordination? No, not at the moment, at least. I don't even think I'll work in a church on a full-time basis.

My European and American friends' view on ordination differs from what we have in the local scene. I'm still thinking what all of these mean. Maybe I really should work my way towards becoming a theologian.

Sea normads, Diaoyu Tai and the legitimacy of the nation state

The Guardian runs this story today: The last of the sea nomads.

The sea nomads are the very personification of the fluidity of life. Just like the fish and dolphins and whales that don't observe the human-made national boundaries, these sea nomads live a life like that. But nomads are not much welcome by any state authorities. The Guardian reports the last of the sea nomads and how it is at odds with the state authorities by saying,

"Nomadism has always been at odds with the fixed boundaries of the nation state, and over the last few decades controversial government programmes have forced most Bajau to settle on land. Today, many live in stilt villages such as Torosiaje, though the settlement is unique in that it lies a full kilometre out to sea."

This reminds me of the expulsion of the Roma by the French government.

Today is 18 September, the anniversary of the Mukden Incident (九一八事變). This year's demonstration in protest against the Japanese government coincided with a recent Diaoyu Tai incident where the captain of a Chinese trawler was arrested by the Japanese government.

All these make me think about the almost unchallenged legitimacy of the nation state. And such an issue arouses so much emotion.

Maybe I should reread Benedict Anderson's Imagined Community. The urge is deepened all the more by the hundreds of flags anticipating the celebration of the 61th anniversity of the PRC in my district. Interesting that those are flags sponsored by the District Council and not the national flags. So, what should we imagine given those candy-coloured flags flying along the breeze?

Umm, I'm not so sure about that

I write like
Charles Dickens

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

I had my previous blog post anaylzed and Cheung Chau brought me to Charles Dickens.

Going to Cheung Chau

I took Nouwen's Genesee Diary, a pen and a notebook with me to Cheung Chau, in the hope that I would have a quiet time reading and writing. But the summer heat proved unrelenting despite the after-rain coolness. I only read a couple of pages during lunch. The rest of my Cheung Chau trip was dedicated to nothing but walking and sightseeing.

My trip was delayed but pleasantly so. I met a visitor from Danmark at TFS in the Friday Morning Eucharist and took him to Shatin after breakfast. We then went to coffee and had a good time chatting.

Reading Nouwen's book was like looking at the mirror and seeing what you didn't like seeing. I felt an urge to be on my own so that there was no longer any need to pretend to be more cheerful, humourous or happy. There was also no need to hide my sulkiness or disappointment towards life in general. The feeling of having failed dominated my heart and there was no longer any space for others.

I didn't walk far because of the heat. The beach under the glaring sun wasn't welcoming. There weren't any swimmers except for a man with his dogs swimming outside of the assigned areas. They probably had to stay at the margin as dogs were not allowed on the beach. Since there wasn't any real shade to protect me, I could but only stay for a very short while, listening to the sea while fanning myself with a fan from the Philippines.

Pak Tai Temple

At the entrance of Pak Tai Temple

Walking aimlessly, I found Pak Tai Temple and walked in. It looked colourful, much more colourful than its 200 plus years of history would suggest. The woman who sold incense there told me it had been renovated. She tried to get me buy some and seeing that I wasn't interested, ceased to answer my questions. A few minutes later, two tourists came. She asked them for donation. Interesting.

Pak Tai Temple was the coolest area I could find on Cheung Chau. A pity that I couldn't get a seat and meditate there. It seemed such a nice place to have a quiet time. And since not much incense was burned, there wasn't any problem with the air there.

I felt that I was trying to run away from something. But it's impossible to run away from myself. If I wanted to stop my shadow from following me, I had to go somewhere where there's no light. But did I really want to be in complete darkness? I longed to get out and yet the summer heat put me in such a difficult position. Should I continue to walk on or should I return?

Prayer, holy reading, and work

These are the three activities of monastic life according to the rule of St Benedict.

What has drawn me to these is Henri Nouwen's diary in the seven months when he lived the life of a Trappist monk.

Prayer, holy reading, and work.

I spent my afternoon with Christa, my friend who's trying to learn say the liturgy and the Lord's prayer in Cantonese. Shortly before we parted, I mentioned the need to structure my days in a more organized manner. I was having in mind these three activities of the Trappist monks.

There is a great temptation to just let my days pass. But there is also a desire to spend them in a way that can bring me closer to God.

I don't have a clue what I can do.

Maybe I need someone wise to be my guidance.

I would love to spend a day each week without doing any work, and without thinking about work. Maybe I can do a little psychogeography once a week. Maybe I can go to places where I have never visited before.

But the summer heat lingers on. Is it a real hindrance or my excuse?

Should I go to Cheung Chau after the Friday Morning Eucharist tomorrow?

I need space; I need air, the air of freedom that has no worry in it.

Let's see what comes to me tommorow.

Identity

I thought I would like to talk about Chineseness, but then I realized I could never talk about Chineseness in the singular, as if there was one single thing (or a set of things) unifying those who identitied themselves as Chinese.

Chinesenesses are something complex, confusing and involve power, power about who have the right to say what, to define what being a Chinese mean. "Chineseness" in English has less historical or political burdens. Try to say that in Chinese, do you want to say 中國人, 華人 or what? And how about the Chinese languages? 華語? And what's in and what's out? Who's in and who's out? Does Chinese only include Han Chinese? Too many questions.

An "Other" is needed to construct the "Us". I wrote this sentence in the passive voice on purpose. If I say "We need the Other to construct the Us", a "we" is already assumed. It is through differences, through knowing who we are not that we come to understand who we are. The visit to the mosque last week was a good example. I was aware how different I looked, dressed, and behaved, first as opposed to our Muslim hosts, then as opposed to those who who were not from Hong Kong among the interfaith group. The distinctiveness of how the group of local Hong Kong people behaved and reacted and responded became more prominent there than in a group with local Hong Kongers only. But of course, the issues of gender, social status, religion all further complicate the matter. What about a local born Muslim of non-Chinese heritage but who can speak fluent Cantonese? If language is the carrier of culture, who does that mean to that local born Muslim whom I am quite sure would be regarded as the Other by most local Hong Kongers? And what does this "local" mean?

It is through interacting with others that I know who I am. I hope my understanding of the Self and the Us would remain fluid enough to be more inclusive than exclusive.

And my Chineseness? I still haven't a clue.

The mosque

The Koloon Mosque has been standing in the busy tourist district of Tsim Sha Tsui for as long as I can remember. It has always been a landmark of that area. I never remember whether that tube exit closest to the mosque is Exit A, or B or whatever letter. It is always the Mosque Exit when we discuss with friends where we should meet for an evening out or a shopping excursion.

There were a few years in my youth when I worked in a tiny office in a dingy commercial building in TST. Next to us were a shiny polished shopping mall of expensive commodities and an area of equally expensive restaurants that gave an exotic aura. My trip from work to home would first bring me to a bus stop close to the Koloon Mosque. The mosque stood out as something extraordinary. Hong Kng sells itself as a cosmopolitan city where East meets West. East meets West, but East seems not to have met its own eastern neighbours. We never know much about the Muslim community living in our midst. The queues at the bus stops and the people entering the mosque after removing their shoes seemed to come from two seperate worlds that had never for once overlapped. The passageway between the bus stops and the mosque was narrow, so narrow that you could hardly walk with another person shoulder to shoulder. And yet, the two worlds were like miles apart.

The history of the Kowloon Mosque could be traced back to HK's colonial past. The British brought with them the Anglican Church, but also, unknown to many local Hong Kong people, people of the Islamic faith from other parts of the British colonial empire.  The mosque was built in 1896 at the location where the TST police station now stands. It moved to the present site in 1984. We have had the Muslim community with us for more than 100 years. The study of Hong Kong history, at least the one I know, unfortunately misses this part of our Muslim friends and neighbours. And when we discuss about colonial and postcolonial HK, is it fair and just to ignore those who were/are not Han Chinese? Is HK being a cosmopolitan city more a myth that we like to use to massage our own ego?

Years after I quitted my job at TST, I finally had the chance to go into the mosque as a guest to break the fast of Ramadan with our hosts in an interfaith dialogue gathering. I thanked our hosts' hospitality and patience in answering our (mostly people of the Christian faith) questions. Dialogue is a long process; it's not a public hearing nor a session of Q and A, even though questions and answers are definitely involved. We may have to work on a common vocabulary too. I appreciated all those who attended. Differences can make people feel uncomfortable. Hopefully, when we gather in goodwill, we can transcend those differences and see more in common in our humanity.

By the way, good food always helps! Sharing a meal brings people closer. Despite our seeming differences, we all have to eat.