11 October ’25, Hong Kong
I am about halfway through my time in Asia by now. I had an overnight trip September 30 to Kuala Lumpur (KL) where I had booked myself a room in the new Holiday Inn near the airport. This is my new practice that I just budget in: when I am traveling long distances, especially overnight flights to new time zones, find a reasonably priced hotel near the airport with a shuttle and hopefully a gym, and give myself a chance to recuperate and prepare. In Malaysia the American dollar is relatively strong and this was a great deal, with a nice gym and a super buffet for breakfast and dinner, $7 and $17 respectively. (I must admit, the prices would have been high for a Malaysian, so I was grateful to be able to avail myself of the luxury.)
My hosts sent a car for me to whisk me across KL on Friday morning to KLSentral (sic) train station where I met three women from the WCCM Malaysia, including Beth who had set the Malaysia stop up, and we headed northwest up the peninsula to the town of Taiping, where I had never been before. About three hours into the train trip, Beth was standing in the aisle talking to me when she suddenly got a phone call. She told the person on the other end that we had almost arrived at our destination when suddenly she realized that the train had stopped at our destination. So we had to make a mad dash to grab our bags––me with backpack, knapsack and guitar––and get off the train before it left for its next stop. We no sooner hit the platform when I realized that I had left my cell phone on the train. A moment of panic. As anyone who travels knows, it is now no longer a luxury; everywhere you go it is expected that you will be able to access things with your phone, fill in forms with your phone, your tickets are on your phone, etc etc etc. I leapt back onto the train as they were closing the doors and Beth put her foot on the train to let the conductors know we were not done yet and thanks be to God the phone was right there sitting in my seat. Phew!
As we left the station under the metal overhang it was pouring rain as hard as anything I have ever experienced in Big Sur or the monsoons in Tamil Nadu. We made our way in two taxis to the hotel. That’s right: this is not the first time that WCCM Malaysia has held their retreat in a hotel. This time there was a pretty big crowd, over 70 of us and so have a place that was easily reachable and big enough, this was the choice. We had a later conference room to ourselves plus and extra room that was used for Adoration (nice touch) and early morning “stretching and breathing” (another nice touch) led by me, as requested.
We had two full days, besides Friday night and Monday morning, all day Saturday and Sunday, which left me with seven conferences. We had many periods of meditation together, certainly, as is my wont, one after each conference, plus the liturgy of the hours, morning, midday, vespers and compline, and Eucharist. So it was a full schedule. I really like it when the liturgy of the Church plays a part in these retreats, especially to showcase the idea that meditation does not have to take us away from the regular spiritual life of the Church. I always describe it more as the missing mineral, like magnesium was for me. Both there and here in Hong Kong, from the options that I gave them, had chosen the kenosis theme, based on my book The God Who Gave You Birth. That is not a theme that specifically lends itself to silent meditation, but it was not hard at all to adopt a little and make the bridge. I have given this retreat several times now, twice to Benedictine sisters, once to the Trappists at Vina and then to the seminarians at St John’s in Camarillo and in Melbourne, but this is the first time to lay people. It was a little bit of a stretch theologically for them, but not too bad. I introduced it both times, there and here, by saying simply, “We need to mature in our understanding of who God is,” which is of course how I start the book, telling the story about seeing the picture of Zeus in D’Aulaires Book of Greek Myths and realizing that most Christians still think of God as if God were Zeus, not as Jesus introduces God to us. The folks were marvelously attentive, and the question-and-answer periods, which I always find nerve wracking, were a very deep sharing. Of course there is music for every session as well, and I think here in Asia that is more appreciated than anywhere in the world.
They also loved the “stretching and breathing” sessions in the early morning and I would guess 3/4 of them came both mornings. Two things about that, again, especially in this part of the world. One is that I just avoid the word “yoga” anymore for these kinds of retreats. It doesn’t matter what you call it, and I do not stick to a pure vanyasa of Ashtanga Yoga anyway. Besides that, for some Catholics it’s a real noisy buzzword. I don’t care what you call it––just do something with your body! And your breath. Invite the rest of you to your prayer life. And secondly, I have had this ongoing trouble with my shoulder for over a year now and have had to back off a lot on the normal asanas, but instead have been doing a whole new routine each morning that is more based on Tai Chi that I am really enjoying. It in this part of the world––especially in Singapore and Malaysia––that I was so moved watching people to Tai Chi in the park in the mornings, mostly older people, I think. And so I wanted to encourage them maybe to join that or to do their own form of that as part of their meditation practice. For me those sessions went better than ever, and I don’t get to do them often anymore––basically sharing my practice––, so I was well pleased.
After the retreat I was shuttled over to Penang Island, where I have been several times before, famous for their hawker food. I stayed at the Cathedral of the Holy Spirit, though the only other clergyman there was a retired priest who was a scripture professor in the seminary who is now in residence, and the permanent deacon, who lies off campus. When I hear “cathedral,” I tend to think of some higher standard of living, the seat of the bishop and all that… That does not apply in this part of the world. The rectory was a very humble even spartan (I have used that word a lot lately) affair by Western European standards. That is not meant as a complaint, by the way, just to point out that our middle to upper middle-class ecclesial expectations do not apply universally. Even the bishops here usually dress very casually, though they are treated with great reverence. I was there to do the first of a series of musical events––we are avoiding the word “concert”––songs leading to a period of me introducing the practice of meditation. It’s good and a fine format for me. I am pretty much sticking to liturgical songs as requested and seems fitting. We had a good crowd there in Penang Tuesday night, in the parish hall. I will have six such events here in Hong Kong over the next week.
Due to a scheduling and communication snafu, my fight to Hong Kong was through Singapore on Wednesday, at noon, which meant I needed to get from Penang to Singapore ASAP, which meant they picked me up at 3 AM to drive me to the airport for my 5:30 AM flight. Through various means they were hoping that my bag (I just check the backpack) could be checked all the way to Hong Kong (same company), but no… The young girl at the counter would listen to no argument for such an eventuality. And so, it was quite an adventure. For one of only two times that I can remember they would not let me bring the mini-Taylor on board, staying the Malaysian Airlines’ overhead bins are not big enough (they actually are). So I had to check the guitar in Penang which they told me would be at the gate in KL. It was not. So I had to go down to baggage claim and thanks be to God a nice young man found it in some corner with odd-sized baggage (maybe that means they hand carried it), none worse for the wear. I got it on the next flight no problem, but at Singapore I had to go to baggage claim to get my backpack which meant I had to go through immigration which meant I had to fill out the temporary visa forms––on my phone, of course. Which I did, and it went very quickly and smoothly. And then take the train to terminal 4 for my next flight and go through the whole thing again. But terminal 4, thanks God, was very sparsely populated and it went very smoothly, with enough time left for me to have two half-boiled eggs (with soy sauce and white pepper) and a soft bun. But the next thing was even more entertaining. At the Cathay Pacific gate as they saw me walking up with the guitar, two very polite young women came up to me and said, very concerned, “Sir, what is that?” A guitar. “You cannot take that on board.” Again I explained very carefully that it was a small sized guitar and I had traveled with it all over the world without any problem (a little fudging of the truth). Well then, they said, “we will let you go on with the early boarding but if they turn the guitar away on the plane, there is nothing we can do about it.” Fair enough. But not only did they have me go in with early boarding, they called me to come up and board before everyone! All by myself walking down the galley way! I was afraid to look up at the other passengers who must have thought I was some kind of celebrity with my little guitar boarding before everyone. I got a good giggle out of that, and of course I got a prime space for my guitar in the overhead––in row 73, not exactly first class, if there were any doubt.
And now I am in Hong Kong. I wish I could remember what year it was, but I was here once before, on my way back from India I stopped to spend a weekend with Ricky Manalo when he was here studying Chinese. I remember having a great time, we basically ate our way across the city and saw so much. I also remember being impressed by the size of the place, like a forest of giant buildings. But I must have only seen a small part of the city. This time I am seeing a lot more. It is the WCCM who has brought me here as well, but this time I am doing mostly musical events, as I did with Pat Por several times up and down the peninsula of Malaysia. I am staying again at the cathedral, that is actually part of a greater complex of Caritas and the diocesan offices, etc. The building I am in is 16 stories high, floors 13 to 16 are the Priests’ Quarters. There are retired priests, with an infirmary wing, chancery officials, some professors as well as the parish priests of the cathedral themselves, I am not sure how many. It seems to function more like an apartment building with a canteen and laundry service. (It actually reminds me of the old Jesuit residence in downtown Saint Louis, the birthplace of you-know-who.) It is not exactly spartan, but it is a bit ramshackle, at least my room is. My guess is that it is an extra room where they keep stuff that others have left behind. My host, Vivian, and I both were a little shocked to open the door and see furniture stacked up and piles of old things in the corner covered with a blanket. She later wrote me and said she wanted to find me a nicer place, but by that time I had made a little nest for myself here amidst the rubble and didn’t feel like moving. The view out my window is more skyscrapers, right here in the middle of the financial district. I will be busy and not here a lot and it is working out fine. Someone from WCCM got me a guest membership at a very nice gym and yoga club about a 15-minute walk from here, a very classy place, so that is a real luxury, and I have been three times already. To get there I have to walk past a whole block of bars, one after the other, and then just down the street it is teeming with life, restaurants and bars and clothing stores with high-tech screens and flashing lights all over. It is kind of fun to walk down there and back, but I do tend to scurry right back to my little nest here ASAP.
Yesterday I did two musical performances, without guided meditations, at St. Francis University, an old trade school started by a former bishop that has just been upgraded to university status with a handsome new campus. It was set up, with a very nice sound system and IT guy, in a common area in the main building, and the idea was to sing for the crowd on their way to 1:00 Mass and then sing for the students who were assumed to be hanging around after the 1:00 PM Mass. I imagined I would be singing and talking to myself trying to get people’s attention while they were rushing off to lunch. But no, a really nice crowd showed up––Vivian really did her foot work of advertising. I did my 50-minute set of the liturgical songs, but I had suggested to Vivian that perhaps I could do something a little livelier and more attractive for the young people who we expected to show up for the second set. Well, lucky I did, because almost no students came (as a matter of fact some were playing the guitar on the floor above me while I was singing!) but much of the first crowd stayed for the second set. And I really had fun. For as much as I am proud of my liturgical songs, especially the new ones, for concertizing the other stuff is more enjoyable to play. So I did “Awakening” and “Circle Song,” and “Walk in Beauty” and “I Will Lead You Into the Desert” from the new album, “Lead Me From Death Into Life” and “Compassionate and Wise.” But the piece they really loved, when I realized that I needed to fill in another seven minutes or so, was He Prabhu, really the first of the Indian bhajans that I adopted back in the mid 2000s. It was so fun to play and the mini-Taylor loves it. Vivian liked it so much she asked me to end the day with it again today at the retreat.
There is a certain way that people in Asia appreciate music, it’s almost as if they hear it in another part of their bodies, and I am always very moved by the reaction. Vivian told me that someone told her afterward that she liked the music so much that it “pierced her heart and lung,” which is apparently a common expression in Cantonese.
Today was the only teaching day, a one-day retreat for WCCM at a parish hall on the other side of Hong Kong Island, over Victoria Peak. A very nice sized crowd again, about 60 people, three conferences and meditation time. I must admit that sometimes I have wondered to myself if doing these retreats really makes any kind of lasting impact, even if a small one. But the feedback that I have gotten from both Malaysia and here has been so positive, even struggling a little with my American English and my “speculative theology,” as one of our monks used to call it. Apparently yesterday the crowd stayed with Vivian after I left and she went over with them some of the points that were a little harder to grasp (like, “Who was the Second Person of the Trinity before Jesus was born?”) but then she bought out Amazon’s stock of The God Who Gave You Birth.
I had two interesting little moments here. For background: Hong Kong, as you probably know, is now a “special administrative region” of China since it was handed back over by England in 1997. There are pro-democracy folks here (their color is yellow) and pro-China (blue). I was told by a reliable source that these days more and more formerly yellow folks are leaning toward blue, pro-China, because they are so disgusted with the Trump Administration’s policies and they think that Xi Jinping is doing a much better job of managing China, including the advances in alternative energy and technology.
After the pro-democracy demonstrations in 2019 there has been more pressure from Beijing and folks are more cautious than ever about what they say, especially in public. Vivian told me a couple of anecdotes to illustrate that. At one point while I was singing the new song, “A Candle in the Darkness” (I’ve snuck that in with my liturgical pieces at the end of the meditation) I sing, using Mahmoud Darwish’s words, “As you free yourself in metaphors / think of others (who have lost the right to speak).” And as I was singing I glanced quickly at Vivian, wondering if I could get her in trouble for a line like that. And then yesterday, when I was teaching about Prometheus stealing fire from heaven, I got to the section where I say how moderns and post-moderns have been captivated by this image of Prometheus stealing the fire from heaven, and have used it as a symbol of our grabbing power away from any kind of hierarchy and demagoguery. Quoting from my script…
There is certainly something valid about that instinct and that energy, and many of the modern movements seem to be about this––feeling cheated out of the promise of liberation, and no one is going to give it to us if we don’t own it and demand it and grab it. … Is this not at the core of American values, enshrined in our Constitution, that we are “endowed by our Creator with the inalienable right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness”? The most obvious and perhaps purest example, of course, is the civil rights movement, rooted so deeply in the prophets of the Hebrew Scriptures.
And again I froze for a moment, worried mainly if I would get anyone here in trouble for saying that. I will have to ask Vivian later. It is one thing to put one’s own reputation on the line, it is a whole other thing to endanger someone else.
It’s Sunday now. I had the morning gloriously to myself and wound up “saying a private Mass” in the chapel here, as was recommended to me. It was the first day that I showed up in the canteen for lunch––and there was no lunch. Apparently I didn’t get that memo. I have a musical event this afternoon and then tonight I am meeting one of my collaborators from World Meditation Day, who teaches in Chicago but is back here in her hometown for some business. We have never met face-to-face before, so this will be interesting. I have another such meeting later in the week. Tomorrow morning I fly to Vietnam to present on DIMMID for the meeting of Benedictines of East Asia and Oceana, another new experience, and then back here until the 20th.
With every blessing, counting on your prayers and assuring you of mine, Cyprian
