Surely out of curiosity as much as a belief that
a New Faith would cure my problems, I bravely ventured alone to the Invocation Ceremony of a New Vicar at St. Andrew's.
People who are interested a new church or new faith
attract a lot of attention as fresh converts till the ink dries on the Conversion Papers, and then they are fall into Loyal
Reliables to do cookie baking and Xeroxing, and I would not mind that, except that I really do not want to be an Older Woman
with a Life Lived For Others.
Even worse than living for your own children, who
are so fresh and giving and inspiring, is a life lived for Ungrateful Anonymous Strangers.
And I should talk, with a daily counting of
visitors to my more than ten websites!
So.
Was it interesting?
Yes, full of pomp and splendour with red-robed
mostly men in solemn processionals, and planned dialogs, and finally classical hymns, not the modern throwaway songs of the
first service.
The church itself.
As soon as you leave Nathan Road you feel a sense of calmness
and almost happiness, so dense is the air of well-intentioned spirituality that grows up around a well-loved church as this
has been, a historical landmark in Hong Kong for one hundred years.
The church stands on a slight rise, and you enter at an angle,
and there is something rustic and colonial about the internal architecutre, not as glorious as the Roman Catholic churches
of Quebec, still substantial and majestic in its own more subdued way.
I sat near the back, the last row, ignorant of etiquette, and
not wanting to stand out in my errors.
Ironically, I came to stand out, as everyone else chose the
diplomatic middle area.
Religions are alert to newbies, and a few kindly souls, a Chinese
man in a business suit, and a grey-haired teacher in a casual dress, pressed golden booklets into my hands.
Leslie was working at her beauty salon, and was later pleased
I had gone to another service.
The Bible quotations were from Corinthians, and I could not
help but think how once I had stirred to the beautiful parts of the Bible, and how my faith had been pounded by the tragedies
of life.
Unlike Joe, who who is so dominated by his Chinese parentage,
I could not believe at all that others could protect my life adequately, whether they were Chinese ancestors, or Christian
God.
Faith is not something you can buy at the local store, or take
courses to instill into yourself. I wish I could have more faith.
I also desirous of a strong personal life which I have had
before, though certainly not in Hong Kong.
People at a social group never fill you up.
They do occupy your time, and keep you from thinking about
other things, and it may be good for me at this time to connect around socially, at whatever level.
I noted how solid the Anglican Church seems, with
many respectable be-suited business people, both Chinese and Western.
They were friendly too, for in the middle of the service we
broke, and shook hands with one another, to congratulate the arrival of the New Vicar.
Afterwards, we went into the terraced area outside, for wine
and snacks.
I discussed the baptism ceremony with a Chinese Vicar for I
had been raised in an offbeat Christian branch that did not baptize. I referred to its quality of healing and purifying,
its poetic symbolism as much as anything else.
Still you want personal friends to talk to, and I missed the
active churches of Montreal, where friends did volunteer work, serving food, and preparing Christmas boxes, and running large
Saturday clothing and furniture sales.
I felt some hollowness within me as I walked up Nathan Road
alone, as Joe prepared to leave for Canada.
For all my new flock of new acquaintances tearing about eating
seafood on crackers, I was reminded of all the art gallery openings Chard and I had gone to, where people talked brightly
to one another for a few seconds, till their eyes glazed over, and they moved onto someone who might be useful or interesting.
