China Revisited -- 2013 [#13]

Oh, Santa! Walkabout, Pt 2

Half a block into our walk, shortly after arriving in Lehu, we passed the Catholic Church, which would not be unusual in Anytown, USA, but certainly is in China.

People had been coming up to Edward's father and mother from the moment we stepped out the door of their building, so every hundred feet or so we were greeted by a new group. Many were relatives who live in town; others were old friends from the neighborhood. Distracted by the exchanges of conversation and introductions, I did not realize we were standing beside a church.

Our first view of the Catholic Church was of a colorful "Merry Christmas" banner with a very western looking Santa crowning the main door. His face was European and his nose bulbous. I would describe him as a caricature here, but I'm certain all Santas are basically caricatures. I was surprised initially by the English message and then by the fact that Santa was still in place.

It was also curious to me that Santa was prominent in the Church's Christmas proclamation. Protestants from my tradition tend to have concerns about iconography anyway. In what sense is Santa religious or Christian?  During Christmas season we are the people, usually, who complain about "taking Christ out of Christmas," and Santa often represents that displacement.

In Lehu the usual questions were immediately more complex and confusing and layered. Santa with the European face and then the English words!  Such an American saying, "Merry Christmas!" Yet here it is in China.

To begin sorting it all out, it is useful to have some idea about origins. If we consider it at all, we tend to think "Merry "Christmas!" is specifically American; but it is not. Actually "Merry Christmas" is imported, dating from 16th Century England, possibly earlier. It is likely, as well, that the meaning of "merry" has shifted significantly over the centuries.

Furthermore, while Lehu is half a world away from home in New York, only a week had passed since our own celebration of Christmas. So why wouldn't Santa still be in place? 

As I reflect on it, this, like all of the cultural details bombarding us, was essentially related to context and perspective.  What is Santa doing way out here in Lehu -- a western Santa at that?!

What were we expecting?

While I was taking in the spectacle, Edward's parents called a church employee out of his office.  He came rushing down the little stairway next to the church to shake our hands and welcome us. He was all eagerness and good cheer. He was dressed completely in black. I thought he might be the priest. He spoke no English, so we just shook hands and smiled at each other while various conversations in Chinese went on around us.

After an exchange between this man and members of the family, Edward said, "He is inviting you inside.  Do you want to go into the Church?"

I had not particularly thought about entering this church since we were out for a walk; but why not?  It was not at all like he had suggested we sit down to eat raw seafood.

"Sure," I said.

My curiosities now piqued -- our hosts encouraging us -- we ventured into the Church.

Outside, in addition to the Christmas decorations, we had passed a display featuring Mary in a kind of stone grotto. I am familiar with these jagged stone formations from Chinese paintings; but this display of Mary in the grotto was both strange and strangely familiar, a little like seeing Santa over the door of a church.

Inside the church doors was a large foyer with Christmas displays set up among or in front of permanent art and iconography. A large nativity was set in an interesting bamboo-and-thatch shed, set behind more traditional railings and dressed up with red flower displays, mostly but not exclusively poinsettias. The characters -- Mary, Joseph, the Christ-child, shepherds, the Magi, and so forth -- were as western looking as Santa. In this display the color scheme was the surprising element; the bright blues, reds, and varied purples struck me as lurid.

For Yujia, who was taking pictures of us, the interesting part of this church were our reactions and not the Christmas displays themeselves.

It turned out that the man who had originally greeted us was not the priest. The priest was upstairs in the sanctuary. So we were ushered up to the second floor to be officially welcomed.

The inside of the church was no warmer than the streets outside. Donna was glad to have worn every piece of warm clothing she had brought.

Despite the lack of heat, a common practice in southern China, this was not an old building. A quick look at the sanctuary shows modern construction, built-in wiring for lights and fans, cleanly plastered walls, and very up-to-date projection equipment.  The pews were pine benches, reminiscent of camp meeting halls in America. They appeared to be relatively new, as they were bright and showed little wear.

The walls held posters of scenes from Bible stories and from the life of Christ. All appeared to be familiar western Bible illustrations.

The priest, too, was eager to meet us. He had been working at the front of the sanctuary with a group of young people, who found our sudden appearance to be quite a surprise.

Unlike the waitress at the restaurant who wanted her picture taken with us, these kids stood back with their hands over their mouths to hide their reactions.

The priest spoke to us in English that was polished enough to suggest that he had studied in an English speaking country. He was rather eager to relate as much information about the Catholic presence in China as possible.  He had figures about how many Catholic parishes there were, where the churches were located, how many Catholic believers attended every week, and so forth. We had the feeling that he was giving us an "official" talk -- an affirmation of Chinese Catholic well-being that he had practiced and delivered before.

He seemed disappointed to learn that we were not Catholic ourselves, although I may have misread his reaction. There were many things about him we could not figure out, and my ability to read faces and situations is not always accurate.


This short visit to the Catholic Church in Lehu had many surprises, but nothing was more surprising than a display in the foyer featuring Mary flanked by two, five foot Santas playing saxophones.

We have found workable explanations for many cultural curiosities we saw, but nothing in our frame of reference has helped us gain perspective on Santa's saxophone, unless they are an odd reference to American street musicians who don red costumes during that long shopping season.

Judging from the number and size of the Santa references, the Christmas influence here had less to do with the birth of Jesus that with western commercial culture.

The Chinese are not unique in appropriating foreign cultural artifacts that they have somehow mistaken. The most telling characteristic of Chinese restaurants in America, for example, is the fortune cookie; all Americans expect fortune cookies at the end of their "Chinese" dinners. But the fortune cookie is a cute tradition that has its roots in America, not in China.

Santa and his saxophone may belong in that category.

Busan Journal, Day 6

As I rounded the corner by the law building on my walk down from our hilltop dormitory, I heard the faint strains of music. It is early on a rainy day, our third in a row, and a national holiday, Sam Il Jul, so the streets were otherwise deserted. What a joy to hear what I took to be live music, a single instrument coloring a moment otherwise silent, damp, and gray.

The route to my new office takes me alternately downhill and then laterally across the face of the slope three times. As I approached an open, three layered parking garage that sits beside a series of tennis courts, I could tell that the music was coming from within the parking garage itself, then that it was a saxophone.

Immediately I felt affinity with the lone musician. I thought first of recent experiences hearing musicians in London, performing in walkways of tube stations or the pedestrian "subways" in the center of the city. Then I thought of the lone musician I had come across in Highbury Fields, our local park, practicing his trumpet in the cold twilight of mid-November. He was good, I must say, but no doubt the trumpet makes poor company indoors when you share thin walls, ceilings, and floors with a less tolerant audience.

Then I spotted him, or part of him, sitting on a folding chair on the lower deck of the parking garage, facing a fold-away music stand, practicing a classical piece unfamiliar to me, his huge bright brass horn almost touching the ground. I could not see his face and he did not stop while I stood for a moment in the rain, but I wanted to applaud. I would have tossed the coins from my pocket into his open case had he been closer and the way down accessible.

We have been here ten days. Life on campus has been quiet, although clearly campus life does not stop between semesters. Yesterday, new students arrived. The campus buzzed with life for the first time. A line of cars, bumper to bumper, snaked oh-so-slowly up the single narrow street toward the dorms; students armed with big yellow badges and light batons directed traffic; and hundreds of parents dragged suitcases and their somber kids toward their new rooms and this new life at college.

Now, this national holiday and a deserted campus. The lone musician with his over-sized saxophone filled the quiet air with notes we often call plaintive, melancholy, wistful. But what I hear is the joy of the introspective life, the shared emotion of this moment in which two lives understand something through music that we could not express in words.

I have been asked many times how the teaching is going. I would say it is going fine. I am having a great time with my saxophone, wailing away in the parking garage with its wonderful amplifying acoustics. On Thursday I get to do it again for my first real audience.