Divine Inspiration

Today, I had nothing critical to do, and I wanted to enjoy a leisurely day before going to Mass at 4:30.  There is one Church in town that serves Mass in English on a Sunday, and this was the first Sunday I've been available to go.

So, I went for a massage (more on that later), did my grocery shopping, and headed out to Mass.  I handed Mr Zheng the card with the info, and off we went.  He pulled up in front of a beautiful blue brick Church that looked like it stepped from a Snow Village scene.  I was impressed so far.  I went inside and I was a little take back by how sparse it was.  It did not look Catholic to me, but then again, This Is China, so I wasn't too upset.

I was the only "English speaker" in the Church.  Actually, I was one of only 5 people in the Church at all.  There was a woman on her cell in the corner,  a man setting up fans, and 2 women weeping at the altar.   As I was 10 minutes early, I assumed this was the pre-Mass events.  As I prayed, the women at the altar wept louder.  I know that cry.  I've cried that cry.  It's awful and heartwrenching and makes you wish you could just die to end the pain.

So, naturally,  I cried too.  Mr Zheng walked into the Church and witnessed this.  I said nothing, just blotted my eyes and stared ahead.

At about 4:40, nothing was happening to signal a Mass, so I went outside.  I called Mr Zheng and he came to the car with an ice cream pop for me.  Such a universal dad thing - ice cream makes everything better!  I explained that I thought we were in the wrong place, and off we went.

This time he pulled up in front of the right Church.  It was set back aways, with 3 beautiful doorways.  I finished my ice cream (it really does make everything better!), and went inside.  The Mass was NOT being said in English as I had been told.  It was being said in Chinese.  To a congregation of Chinese people.  I arrived as they were finishing the Our Father.  I took a place at a pew and prepared for the sign of peace.  In America, people hug, shake hands, nod.  In Nanjing, they bow.  Every person turns in a circle and bows at everyone in their line of sight.  Very different, but hey, I can do this... so I bowed in a circle. 

Then it was time for Communion.  In every other Church I've been all over this world, the Communion line begins in the first pew and moves backwards.  In Nanjing, Communion is like everything else...the queue begins with he-who-gets-there-first.  People were going out of order, crossing in front of each other, even RUNNING... it was an OCD nightmare!

But nevertheless, I got to the front where the Priest, in crystal clear English said the Body of Christ to me.  Perhaps that's what was meant by English Mass?????  Ironically, I noticed 1 other Mei Guo Ren (American) when I was walking back from the line.... I guess he read the same guidebook I did!

Happy that I got to witness Mass in Chinese, which I would not have otherwise done, I went back to my place.  I participated in the closing rites, and I listened as the Cantor identified the next song: Si Si Si (444).  I waited to see how people departed the Church, not wanting to be deemed the heathen American.  the organist began to play the opening chords to Amazing Grace.

And then I lost it.

I lost it because while the song usually makes me teary, in light of the earlier trip down heartbreak lane, it was agony.  I lost it because back home, they are praying for the Church in China...that people will be allowed to assemble and worship freely.  I lost it because these people were singing about the Amazing Grace of God...which is sometimes hard to see when I look outside of my expat bubble.  I lost it because I am living amongst people whom I will likely never know on a true level.  And I lost it because on the eve of my nation's birthday, I realize how lucky I am to have the freedoms that I do and to be able to return any time I want to that beautiful land. 

...'Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far and Grace will lead me home....