Catholic cathedral in Beijing brings familiarity in a new land
The first time I went with my wife to Catholic mass at a church in Beijing, it was to a cathedral a few hundred steps from the sprawling Victoria’s Secret lingerie store on Wangfujing Street.
I got to St. Joseph’s on a sultry summer afternoon, with the heat index likely hovering near 38 C.
Getting there by subway is straightforward. You can take Line 1, get off at Wangfujing station and walk south for about 10 to 15 minutes. The leisurely walk means a lot of stopovers at all sorts of stores and fast food joints.
Another way is Line 5, which makes for a longer hike on a traffic-choked street past stores leading to St. Joseph’s.
I guess that’s why we hailed a Didi car. We were tired and the heat was starting to bother us.
We finally got out in front of the cathedral and walked across the courtyard in time for the 4 pm service.
Models in wedding dresses were posing for pictures on the steps, all the while clutching the frilly white trains.
It still seemed incongruous to me to find the cathedral there.
But finding churches like this one is comforting for me.
When you are a stranger in a different land, the familiar is something you grab hold of. That is how I saw St. Joseph’s Cathedral.
The congregation here was first set up by Jesuit priest Lodovico Buglio, a 17th century missionary, astronomer and theologian.
The pair and another European priest were known in Beijing at the time for their expertise in astronomy.
The land for the church was donated by the Shunzhi Emperor, the third ruler of the Qing Dynasty (1644-1911).
Built and destroyed over the centuries, the current form of the cathedral took shape in 1904. It utilized Romanesque Revival architecture with three bell towers soaring over the edifice.
Believers streamed into the church as the starting hour approached.
The pews reminded me of a time growing up in the Philippines, where the benches during mass were so narrow you had to squeeze into them.
Despite the broiling heat, it was cool and comfortable inside the church.
The service in St. Joseph’s was conducted by a Filipino priest who spoke Chinese. He was earnest, though he was dwarfed by the altar from which he was celebrating mass.
I looked around to take the measure of the cathedral.
The vaulted ceiling gave it a soaring grace. I could feel the centuries of this place of worship bearing down on me, witness to the passage of time in an eternal city like Beijing.
I have been to empty churches and those packed with the singing of Catholic parishioners.
St. Joseph’s has a solemn grace that creeps into your consciousness. I wanted to stay longer to watch the people file out as the service ended.
They dipped their fingers in holy water and made the sign of the cross.
I greeted the priest in Filipino while walking out. He smiled widely in delight at seeing someone from the same land.
My wife and I wished him well. With the sun going down behind the buildings, we began the 15-minute walk back to Line 1.