Good Friday
For the first time since 2009, we were not at the Seminary for Good Friday. I had originally planned to attend there, even as late as last night, but we simply could not get there in time for Stations of the Cross and Good Friday service. We did, however, visit two other churches in Beijing, one for a few minutes of prayer and another for the full Good Friday experience.
More after the jump.
For everyone else in China, this was just another Friday. Outside Dongtang brides and grooms, dressed in fantasy wedding costumes and accompanied by photographers and stylists waited their turn to be posed in front of the church for their wedding album pictures. They surely had no idea what was going on inside.
Dozens were there, praying. Some silently knelt, others in small groups mumbled in unison. It was early enough in the afternoon that I did not expect there to be too many in attendance yet. The kids and I ducked in, prayed ourselves for a while. Myles noticed the bare altar, the veiled statues--everything as he would expect it on Good Friday.
It was getting close to 2:00, and we knew that our time was too short to make it to our parish. I had looked at the schedules for several of the Beijing churches the night before, so I knew that we were certain to make some other parish's Good Friday. We started walking south, and before too long we could see the unmistakable spires of St. Michael Church, also known as Dongjiamingxiang Church.
This church was built in the Foreign Legation by French priests in 1904. It's patron is St. Michael the Archangel. Since he is Myles' favorite saint (has a lot to do with weapons), it wasn't hard to encourage going here as a substitute for our normal Good Friday.
It was quarter to three when we went in, and we were lucky to find a small pew to ourselves. The church was filling up quickly. Many people were chanting in prayer. I am fairly certain it was the Divine Mercy Chaplet. Shortly after three the wooden clackers announced the start of Stations of the Cross. We remained in our own pews as the priest, the crucifer, and the other men walked from Station to Station around the church's periphery.
A woman at the church had given me a booklet of the Via Crucis in Chinese. I followed along, chanting when it was words I actually knew how to read. For Myles and Brigid I had printed out their own packets from material available from Lisa Hendey's great website Catholicmom.com.
After the Stations, the Good Friday proceeded as likely anywhere else in the world. At the rear of the church, the celebrant appeared, bearing a shrouded crucifix. In Chinese he intoned, "Behold the wood of the cross, on which is hung our salvation." He proceeded up the center aisle, pausing to sing that line again, and revealing more of the crucifix each time.
After responding to the priest several times "Come let us adore Him," we lined up for Veneration of the Cross. Unlike at the Seminary in years past where we've crawled on our knees the length of the church, we walked up to the Communion Rail and knelt there, waiting for the priest to come down the line with the crucifix.
Sometime around the Prayers of the Faithful, Myles could not help but comment on all our standing and kneeling and extremely rationed sitting. "Are we Byzantine Catholics now?" he whispered to me.
When it came close to communion time, the priest processed up the aisle again with the reserved sacrament.
After the service, I took a few more pictures of the interior of the church. We will certainly have to return again sometime so we can see what it looks like unshrouded.
And with that, our pilgrimage was over. Next year we may have to try it again, hopefully without the shopping, and adding a few more churches to the itinerary.
I hate to admit that we still had Easter-clothing shopping to take care of today. I had hoped to do this sometime before Good Friday, but that did not work in my favor either. The bright side was that one of the locations I wanted to shop, Wangfujing, is close to several Catholic Churches, at least two of which in easy walking distance. I told Myles and Brigid we were taking something of a pilgrimage.
Our first church was a return to St. Joseph Church, sometimes referred to as Dongtang (East Cathedral.
More after the jump.
For everyone else in China, this was just another Friday. Outside Dongtang brides and grooms, dressed in fantasy wedding costumes and accompanied by photographers and stylists waited their turn to be posed in front of the church for their wedding album pictures. They surely had no idea what was going on inside.
Dozens were there, praying. Some silently knelt, others in small groups mumbled in unison. It was early enough in the afternoon that I did not expect there to be too many in attendance yet. The kids and I ducked in, prayed ourselves for a while. Myles noticed the bare altar, the veiled statues--everything as he would expect it on Good Friday.
It was getting close to 2:00, and we knew that our time was too short to make it to our parish. I had looked at the schedules for several of the Beijing churches the night before, so I knew that we were certain to make some other parish's Good Friday. We started walking south, and before too long we could see the unmistakable spires of St. Michael Church, also known as Dongjiamingxiang Church.
This church was built in the Foreign Legation by French priests in 1904. It's patron is St. Michael the Archangel. Since he is Myles' favorite saint (has a lot to do with weapons), it wasn't hard to encourage going here as a substitute for our normal Good Friday.
It was quarter to three when we went in, and we were lucky to find a small pew to ourselves. The church was filling up quickly. Many people were chanting in prayer. I am fairly certain it was the Divine Mercy Chaplet. Shortly after three the wooden clackers announced the start of Stations of the Cross. We remained in our own pews as the priest, the crucifer, and the other men walked from Station to Station around the church's periphery.
A woman at the church had given me a booklet of the Via Crucis in Chinese. I followed along, chanting when it was words I actually knew how to read. For Myles and Brigid I had printed out their own packets from material available from Lisa Hendey's great website Catholicmom.com.
After the Stations, the Good Friday proceeded as likely anywhere else in the world. At the rear of the church, the celebrant appeared, bearing a shrouded crucifix. In Chinese he intoned, "Behold the wood of the cross, on which is hung our salvation." He proceeded up the center aisle, pausing to sing that line again, and revealing more of the crucifix each time.
After responding to the priest several times "Come let us adore Him," we lined up for Veneration of the Cross. Unlike at the Seminary in years past where we've crawled on our knees the length of the church, we walked up to the Communion Rail and knelt there, waiting for the priest to come down the line with the crucifix.
Sometime around the Prayers of the Faithful, Myles could not help but comment on all our standing and kneeling and extremely rationed sitting. "Are we Byzantine Catholics now?" he whispered to me.
When it came close to communion time, the priest processed up the aisle again with the reserved sacrament.
After the service, I took a few more pictures of the interior of the church. We will certainly have to return again sometime so we can see what it looks like unshrouded.
And with that, our pilgrimage was over. Next year we may have to try it again, hopefully without the shopping, and adding a few more churches to the itinerary.
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