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.