Hong Kong’s cathedral is located
in the expensive Mid-Level area, close to the Zoo and Botanical Gardens.
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It is a
little Gothic jewel of a place, simple but elegant, dwarfed by surrounding skyscrapers
and other multi-storey buildings.
The cathedral was originally located in the
town centre but burned down in 1859. The present one opened in 1888, was consecrated
in 1938, then was partially damaged during the Japanese invasion of Hong Kong
in 1941, and finally was extensively refurbished about 10 years ago.
There are four masses each Sunday,
three in Cantonese and an English one at 9.30am, which we attended. Due to the
narrow entrance road, there were several men in florescent bibs directing the long
queue of cars waiting to disgorge their passengers…rather nice cars too; the best-selling
car model for 2012 in Hong Kong was the Mercedes E Class (the UK’s best-selling
model was the Ford Fiesta!).
I was delighted to see a Saint
Vincent de Paul (SVP) volunteer outside the cathedral collecting donations, and
another person trying to get people to sign up for blood donations.
Inside, the feeling was of space
and light. The cathedral felt compact, narrow and tall, with light pouring in
from the large windows, softened by the coloured glass.
It has a capacity of
about 1,000 worshippers and is deceptively larger than it appears (the Tardis of cathedrals). The
congregation was mainly local Chinese of all ages with a large minority of
Filipino guest workers and Western expatriates. The choir, about 30 to 40
strong, occupied four pews in the nave, in front of an electronic organ and
with its own choirmaster who conducted the music. I estimated there were about
five or six hundred present for Mass.
The celebrant, an elderly Caucasian
priest, processed in followed by six altar servers and ten Eucharistic
Ministers (EMs). At first, I thought the EMs were in uniform as they were all
tastefully dressed, wearing dark suits or skirts, and each had a medal on a
yellow ribbon around the neck. Then I realised they each wore ordinary personal clothes,
tastefully and subtly matched to an overall design, each slightly different to the next but
all beautifully cut, sombre but sophisticated. This was clearly a well-off part
of Hong Kong!
The Mass followed the usual
hallowed pattern. The choir was tuneful and the congregation’s responses were perhaps
a little more muted than those of St. Margaret’s – and a lot less robust than
the youthful exuberance of St. Joseph’s congregation of Filipinas.
Going up to the main altar for
communion I experienced the only slight disconnect of the Mass. Rather than
receive separate bread and wine, body and blood, the practise was intinction,
where the consecrated bread is dipped in a chalice of consecrated wine and then
consumed.
Afterwards, we walked round the cathedral, admiring the stained glass windows. The altar servers were working hard preparing the sacred vessels for the next mass.
We found some small chapels at the end of the church. One of these, formerly the Chapel of Our Lord’s Passion was rededicated to the Chinese Martyrs shortly after the canonisation of 120 Chinese Martyrs in October 2000. Relics of 16 of these martyrs were placed in a relic box at the foot of the altar.
There is also a relic of Pope
(and, hopefully, soon to be Saint) John Paul II – a lock of his hair – in the
cathedral. Hong Kong is the first city in Asia to house a relic of JP2; it was
requested because the Pope had often expressed a wish to visit China, a wish
that never materialised due to political tensions, and this is a way that
faithful Mainland Chinese Catholics who visit Hong Kong can express their devotion to the
late Pope.
After Mass we decided on an early
lunch at a noodle shop. However, when we got there, there was a queue and
people had to share tables (a Hong Kong custom that I haven’t quite come to
terms with!). So, we diverted to a dim sum restaurant. We ordered har gau, siu
mei (of course) and several other dishes. Then an elderly man with a stick and
a large plastic bag from a nearby traditional medicine store shuffled up to our
four-seater table.
“Do you mind if I sit at your
table, just for a moment, to rest?” he asked in Cantonese.
“Of course not” the missus
replied.
He had not been seated for more
than a minute or two when his strength miraculously returned and he ordered a
dish of fried rice…followed by plain rice, tea and vegetables…and roast duck
arrived next.
Then he dived into his large plastic
bag and took out a variety of Chinese medicines and medicated plasters which he
heaped on the table in front of him. Apparently he was well known to the staff
of the restaurant and soon a queue of them – floor captains, both male and
female, waiters, bus boys, cleaning staff – were at the table inspecting his
purchases. It seems he was quite a character, at one stage complaining he had
no money to pay the bill and volunteering to wash dishes in the kitchen (“No,
but you can clean out the toilets” was the waiter’s response).
I seem to remember a story about
the cuckoo, which invades another bird’s nest and takes over…
…Only in Hong Kong.
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