One World

For breakfast this morning, I had some bread and yogurt. We didn’t really have any plans, and I wanted to do a little reading on China, so I figured a lazy day might be kind of nice. When I sat down on the couch to enjoy my food, I noticed that it was overcast out. It wasn’t the smoggy overcast we’ve had since I got here, but this was more like fog. It looked nice out, so I walked to the window. Looking down at the street, it looked like it had rained over night.

Nate went back to the grocery store for some oil and vegetables while I did a little journaling along with a little research on Buddhism. It seems back home that Buddhism is the new black on college campuses. As I went to several different conferences last semester, I met college students that were Buddhists at each of them. Our business school also talks a bit about how meditation and some Buddhist practices can be helpful in the workplace (specifically with anxiety and work/life balance.) I wonder if people back home get the full extent of the belief system.

In terms of Jing’an Temple (which we saw yesterday) Nate pointed out to me there was a brief history on the back of the ticket. It was first built in 247AD and originally called “Hudu Chongyuan Temple.” Its name was later changed to Yongtai Zen Monastary. The name Jing’an was settled on in 1006AD. According to legend on the Buddha caves in China—that’s right, there is a legend about this temple, scrolled on the caves in the mountains of China—two stone Buddhas floated down the Wusong River and were brought to the temple to be worshiped.

The Chinese National Buddhist Association was established in the temple in 1903, making it the most well-known temple in all of China. During the cultural revolution in the 1950’s, the temple was converted to a plastic factory. Since 1998, it has been undergoing restoration.

As I was reading, there was a sudden rumbling sound. I couldn’t tell if it was an earthquake, fireworks, or gun fire. I looked up and saw it was raining again. The noise must of have been thunder. But to say it was merely raining is a bit like saying “there was a wave in India in 2006.” It looked like the sky was dropping a pillar of water on Shanghai. The wind was blowing in such a direction that my window was dry, but the rain was so thick, I could barely see ten feet. The skyline and even the ground were completely lost in the mist.

When Nate returned, he was soaked. It reminded me that I needed to do laundry. Back home, I have been genetically blessed to have very little body odor, the clothes I’ve worn the past few days smell awful. Luckily, we have a washing machine in our kitchen. I plugged it in, put in all my whites, poured soap in the little drawer (totally guessing which drawer it went into, since the machine was in Chinese) and then played with the knobs. I discovered a cotton function and set it on that. The display showed that it would run for 1 hour and 16 minutes, with a wash of 30*C (about 90*F…which seemed a little hot for me, but none of the other settings had cooler temperatures.) Hitting run, I started the machine.

Just minutes later, an alarm went off. Both Nate and I went to check it out, and saw that it was the washing the machine. The error message was in Chinese and Nate thought it said something about water pressure. We tried a few more settings and pushed a few more buttons. Some seemed to work, but after 30 minutes or so, the clothes still came out stinky and dry.

I’ll figure it out later.

For lunch, I decided to cut off another hunk of bread. It made me think of that bible verse where Jesus says, “Men cannot live on bread alone.” With bones popping up in my meat, all I can say to Jesus is “Watch me!”

I started reading some of my new book on China. I skipped ahead to read the section on Shanghai and really did learn a lot. The British originally settled Shanghai as a port city (the name Shanghai is actually Chinese for “By the sea”) by setting up their own “Concessions”—using the word in terms of “a space or privilege within certain premises for a subsidiary business or service” according to Merriam-Webster. Britain eventually opened their concession in 1842, and Shanghai became a destination spot. France and America quickly followed suit and also settled their own concessions in regions of the city. By 1853, Shanghai was the largest port in China, known for trading opium, tea, and silk. It quickly became a financial hotspot where wealthy businessmen built their mansions and part time homes.

Shanghai quickly became synonymous with exploitation and vice. From opium dens, to brothels and casinos, gangs ran many elusive industries which were enjoyed and protected by the Americans, French, Italians, British, and Japanese.

Working conditions however in Shanghai were difficult. The poor became very poor and suppressed and various movements began to sprout. The Chinese Communist Party (CCP)was formed in the heart of Shanghai, and they eventually took control and unified China in 1949.

Once in power, the CCP drove out poverty in Shanghai by developing rehab programs for the thousands of opium addicts. They outlawed child labor and put an end to slavery that existed in Shanghai’s less than reputable industries. While the overall safety and health of the city improved, the dangerous appeal faded and with it, so did most of the attraction for tourists. Shanghai became just another middle class city—although one that always had strong political ties and was at the heart of t Cultural Revolution.

In 1990, plans to rebuild Shanghai immediately launched it back into world fame. The economy almost instantly rebounded with the resurgence of financial trade and many incorporated businesses. It once again became the “Mecca of China” for both foreign and domestic tourists. It has since become famous not for necessarily showing off Chinese culture, but having an international ex-pat community.

Jessica called to see if Nate and I wanted to join her and her friend for an afternoon church service. Jessica and Nate had bonded yesterday at the temple over their shared background in private Christian schools.  Feeling the yearn of cabin fever, I decided to accept the invitation.

We all walked under my umbrella to the subway station and took it to meet her friend. When we arrived at the church, her friend—named Jennifer—greeted all of us with hugs. I noticed everyone was greeting everyone with some sort of accented English. It seemed like a very friendly group as we headed inside. At the door, greeters handed us programs and welcomed us to the service.

I was delightfully surprised as we entered the sanctuary. I’d been so hung up on the fact it was an English speaking service (which I wasn’t sure was going to be that interesting) that I forgot we were going to a church…in another country…which meant the architecture was beautiful! There was a beautifully carved wooden altar with a golden cross. Light from the rose colored windows danced through the sanctuary between the tall marble pillars. Not to sound tacky, but it looked so European…I felt at home!

We took a seat about halfway up the room in the wooden pews. All around us were people of different ethnic groups. There were some people who looked very formal and probably from Scandinavia. Another large group appeared to be from the Mediterranean part of the world. There were some Middle Eastern looking people, a lot of African looking people, and quite a few Asian groups as well.

A tall, skinny black woman came to the pulpit. “Welcome church,” she said in a thick accent. “My name is Pamela. I am from Jamaica. We have members of over 17 different passports represented here today.” Everyone cheered.

After she made a few announcements about ministries we could get involved with at the church, a worship band came out to lead some songs.

I have to say, be it an organ or an electric guitar, those old churches have great acoustics. The pews were vibrating as we sang various hymns and rock songs about God. Every group had their own way of worshipping. Some raised their hands in the air, others clapped, while some danced. I didn’t recognize the first few songs (I think we sang about seven) but some of the later ones were more familiar. I realized it was really cool to be worshipping in a way I’ve worshipped hundred of times before, but now with people from across the globe.

After several songs, the band leader did two readings about beginnings. The first was from Genesis and talked about the creation of the world. The second was from John and talked about Jesus being with God in the beginning. Both readings began with the same iconic phrase “In the beginning.” I felt like they were appropriate because I am in the beginning of my trip. They also talk about how the whole world was created in this image of peace and love. Now that I am on the other side of the “whole world,” this imagery suddenly had sacred meaning to me.

After the readings, another man who I presume was from Africa came forward to pray. He had one of those voices like James Earl Jones or Morgan Freeman; the type that if your life had a narrator, you hope it sounded like them. The man led a very rousing prayer, praying for transformation and renewal of everyone in the room. At some points he was talking so fast I could barely understand him, but I got chills with each word that he said.

The sermon was on the story of Joseph from the old testament (the Andrew Lloyd Weber play “Joseph and The Technicolor Dreamcoat.”) This definitely my favorite story in the bible. I love the message of how Joseph’s dreams fall apart, but in the end, his life winds up better than he could have dreamed. It is probably even a great analogy for travel. We go into trips with plans that often don’t come together, but often getting lost leads to better adventures anyway.

The pastor—who appeared to be an American—gave a synopsis of the story, starting with Joseph’s great grandfather Abraham. He explained how Abraham was chosen to lead the family that would save the world. Abraham’s children and grandchildren strayed and caused various dysfunctional family problems, but when famine struck, Joseph did in fact save the world. Years later, he pointed out, another descent of Abraham’s blood line would save the world. This would come in the form of Jesus who would ultimately do all the saving, so that the whole world could be united in one family. As one family, we can enjoy life on this planet together. I’d never really thought of the story that way, but again, the imagery of one family enjoying life on this planet because God provided for us through Christ was a really peaceful idea to me. I just hope I get to enjoy life on lots of different parts of the planet.

During his sermon, he also talked about themes like jealousy, envy, and love. You would think these would all be relatable ideas across cultures, but I couldn’t help but notice that most of the room looked bored or confused. I wondered if perhaps the messages of Christianity aren’t quite as universal as we’d like to think.

At the same time, another theory crossed my mind. What if they were interested? What if I’m reading their faces through an American lens? We like a lot of eye contact, soft smiling, and a bit of nodding to indicate our listeners understand…what if these straight faces are more the norm internationally? I also couldn’t help but notice that the preacher was primarily using American idioms (such as “this is a family feud at its finest” or “the whole plan was out the window.”) I wonder if maybe this language was nonsensical to someone who spoke English as their second language.

The service was about 90 minutes, and end, the young man led a powerful benediction. On the subway back, Nate decided he was going to cook dinner while Jessica wanted to stop at a bakery. I wanted to try out another local restaurant so when we got to our stop, we parted ways.