Lord Guan beholds the Heavenly Father
Kinsfolk gather on a foreign shore;
Here unite, East and West now,
Newcomers dwell on lands of yore.
Of home and country, what to tell?
Dark eyes, yellow skin — why bother?
Thousands in a terraced acre dwell;
Lord Guan beholds the Heavenly Father.
Song of Youth 2000, lyrics by Lin Xi
Lord Guan Gazes towards Jesus
During the Umbrella Movement, two 'places of worship' appeared in the occupied area of Mong Kok: a temple dedicated to Emperor Guan and St Francis Chapel. The scene seemed to bring to life the lyric, 'Emperor Guan gazes across at the Heavenly Father.'
Like many of Lo Ta-yu's Cantonese songs, this song was written by the lyricist Lin Xi; and, like many of Lo's songs, it offers a profound reflection upon contemporary society and events. When we heard the song in those days, although Hong Kong's identity seemed somewhat uncertain, there was nevertheless a measure of pride in our hearts. After all, Hong Kong was still the unblemished Pearl of the Orient.
What feelings does the song evoke today? Our sense of identity remains as uncertain as ever, yet there is certainly less conviviality and harmony. Some of the images evoked by the lyrics now seem to belong to memory. As for the line 'Emperor Guan gazes across at the Heavenly Father', perhaps it once spoke of religious freedom in Hong Kong. Today, however, when that freedom may no longer be assured, its meaning may need to be reconsidered in terms of how religions confront religious persecution.
This essay does not seek to examine the exclusivity or inclusivity of Christianity. Rather, it considers how different religions may respond to political repression in the present political environment, and what role Christians ought to play in that response. I shall attempt to argue that, just as religious communities may work together in social service and in upholding the moral foundations of law, there is also room for them to cooperate in defending the freedom to preach and to practise their respective religions. At the same time, I shall consider how Christians may preserve the uniqueness of their faith in doing so.
Politics Is Everywhere
Politics, one might say, is everywhere. From the calculations and manoeuvres between two individuals to relations between nations, there is a political dimension to human affairs. Politics may also be understood as morality among groups of people. Part of the complexity of communal morality lies in the consequences of moral choices; political decisions, too, must be considered in the light of their consequences.
If this is so, a complete separation of Church and state becomes impossible in view of the Church's moral commitments. An extreme separation would amount to a position of 'moral neutrality' which the Church ought not to adopt. The relationship between Church and state, therefore, is not simply a choice between 'separation' and 'union', but a question of degree.
Some have said that 'selective neutrality is itself a position of partiality'. I would not yet venture to affirm or deny this proposition categorically. Nevertheless, at the very least, the Church's role in society must include working alongside the law to uphold the moral life of the people, or to reduce the occurrence of wrongdoing. This relationship of cooperation with the law already establishes that the Church must, in some sense, participate in politics.
In Eastern societies, where the influence of the Church is relatively limited, an additional responsibility arises: the defence of religious freedom.
As the familiar hymns proclaim, 'This Is My Father's World' and 'All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name'. Earthly rulers are but stewards. Even if the Church does not interfere in the political and economic administration of the state, it must nevertheless safeguard the space in which it may proclaim the Gospel and pronounce moral judgement, as well as the right of people to profess and commit themselves to their faith. In other words, it must defend religious freedom.
The Church, therefore, cannot be entirely neutral in political matters. Rather, it ought to exercise discernment in choosing the political activities in which it participates, so that its religious convictions may be proclaimed without restriction. At this point, the question of religious persecution becomes unavoidable.
Religious Persecution in Mainland China
We may begin with the fact that the central government is fundamentally atheistic. The recent demolition of churches in Wenzhou, together with restrictions upon evangelism in mainland China, are familiar examples.
The situation of the Roman Catholic Church is similar. Bishops have been appointed independently of Rome, and some of these bishops have subsequently been excommunicated by the Vatican. It is almost as though we have returned to the medieval struggles between ecclesiastical and political authority.
Wang Mingdao, a figure familiar to many Christians, reflected upon the reasons for his own failure in the following terms:
How different was what Wang faced in those days from what we face today?
Falun Gong continues to be suppressed. In my view, however, the reason for its suppression is not that it is inherently an evil cult, but that its founder has connections abroad. Thus, a movement once encouraged by the government could suddenly be designated a cult.
Even when religious freedom is proclaimed in mainland China, we cannot afford to be complacent. Wang's expectations in his own day were much like ours. The Beijing government is atheistic and fundamentally concerned with power, prepared, in my judgement, to preserve its authority at any cost, regardless of the sacrifices demanded of its people.
If a government is atheistic in character, then its toleration of religion may arise either from a desire not to alienate religious believers or from the usefulness of particular religious teachings to its rule.
Christianity provides an example. Teachings such as 'submit to the governing authorities' and 'love God and love your enemies' are likely to be welcomed by the Chinese government. By contrast, the principle that 'we ought to obey God rather than men' is liable to be passed over or given a different interpretation.
Perhaps one day the oppression presently directed against Falun Gong will once again be directed towards the mainstream religions with which we are more familiar. What, then, ought we to do? Should Christians, or indeed can they, cooperate with other religions in resisting religious persecution?
Two Kinds of Church
At such times, different voices invariably emerge within the Church concerning politics. At opposite ends of a spectrum stand churches which participate relatively little in political affairs and those which participate much more actively.
Some churches describe themselves as politically neutral and refrain from all activities associated with politics. They interpret the circumstances they face in terms of God's testing of the Church, or of His having a better plan. They remind believers that those who suffer persecution for the Lord are pleasing to God, and then urge them to 'lay aside the troubles of the world' and 'fix their eyes upon Him' within the Church.
Such churches take times of peace as the model for Christian life. Their members, though troubled inwardly, pretend to be at peace, afraid to speak out lest they be accused of disobedience, and wait in silence even as their churches face demolition.
This position fails to recognise the close relationship between politics and morality. Without realising it, such churches may help an atheistic government maintain an appearance of peace under immoral policies, whilst neglecting their prophetic vocation.
Some churches may argue that, since the earthly city is destined to perish, Christians need not pursue anything upon earth, but should instead set their hopes upon heaven. Yet the knowledge that something will perish does not exclude the pursuit of its improvement. We know that our bodies are temporary, but we nevertheless seek healthy lives and physical strength.
Churches of this kind find it difficult to enter society and proclaim the Gospel through compassionate witness. Instead, they increase the separation between the Gospel and everyday life, and may even foster an attitude of self-preservation and moral self-sufficiency within the Church. Yet the Lord did not come to call the righteous to repentance.
Nevertheless, such churches are not without merit. Of the Church's priestly and prophetic roles, they tend to emphasise the priestly, guarding with heavily defended gates the community they regard as holy.
At the other end of the spectrum are churches more closely engaged with contemporary affairs and society. They participate actively in social service and encourage their members to speak out when fundamental questions of right and wrong arise. In this way, they fulfil the Church's prophetic role.
They proclaim that Christians ought to do their utmost to advance the realisation of the Kingdom of Heaven upon earth.2
This does not necessarily mean that such churches believe the Kingdom depends upon human effort for its realisation, or that it must be fully realised in the present earthly order. Rather, they believe that Christians have a responsibility to work towards that end, hoping that conditions upon earth may more closely resemble those of heaven.
These churches undertake considerable outreach, especially through service-oriented ministries. They participate in society by sharing love, caring for their neighbours, and sincerely welcoming others.
They may be involved in many activities which are not explicitly religious. Yet if their motivation arises from the conviction that what is done 'unto one of the least of these' is done unto Christ, there is nothing inherently objectionable in such involvement.
Between these two kinds of church, the former is generally less inclined to cooperate with other religions in defending religious freedom, and seldom joins them in serving society. From their perspective, if other religions ought not to be believed, then the suppression of those religions may appear justified.
Yet if the government is not a Christian government, and is presently suppressing certain religions, the same oppression may one day be directed against Christianity. The latter kind of church tends to take the opposite position.
Among the former, some even look back nostalgically to the ecclesiastical power of the medieval Church, hoping to employ the authority of the state to suppress other religions and thereby increase their own influence.
Consider, for example, the incident in Cairo in which Christians protected Muslims. This is not something that churches indifferent to worldly affairs would ordinarily do. Some might even welcome severe repression of Muslims, imagining that the relative power of Christianity would thereby increase.
But if Muslims are persecuted by a government which is not itself Christian, who will be persecuted next?
The situation bears a striking resemblance to the religious landscape of China. Following the suppression of Falun Gong came disputes concerning independently appointed Catholic bishops, and then the demolition of churches in Wenzhou.
Thus, the former position achieves only the appearance of non-interference between Church and state. In reality, it seeks to make use of governmental power: not separation, but mutual exploitation between religion and the state.
Viewed in this way, some churches would seek to benefit from a non-religious government's suppression of other religions in order to elevate their own position within the religious sphere. Others would seek cooperation with those religions in resisting such a government, thereby reducing the danger of more extensive persecution in the future.
Which course is more consistent with what the Christian Church ought to do? The answer, it seems to me, is almost self-evident.
He Who Spared Not the Natural Branches, Would He Spare Thee?
Religious communities have a responsibility to cooperate in maintaining a society in which religious freedom is protected. If different religions harbour ulterior motives and attempt to suppress one another, the ultimate beneficiary will be an atheistic government.
Why would a government consumed by the desire for power willingly allow communities which make supernatural claims, such as religious communities, to proclaim their teachings within its territory?
A government determined to possess the greatest influence and authority will naturally wish to declare, 'I, this government, shall govern the nation for a hundred years.' How could it readily accept the claim that 'God is the master, and the government merely His steward'?
To use the government as a means of expanding religious influence may only strengthen its atheistic claims. By the time Christianity alone remains, there may no longer be sufficient strength to resist that creature with seven heads and ten horns.
In short, if a government possesses the power to suppress other religions on a large scale, what obligation does it have to spare the one religion that remains?
Emperor Guan Gazes across at the Heavenly Father
If, as argued above, the Church cannot avoid political participation altogether, then refusing to collude with political power is one means by which it may preserve its moral integrity. At the same time, it ought to participate actively in morally responsible action within society.
If we agree that Christians may cooperate with other religious communities in charitable work, campaigns against drug abuse, and opposition to gambling, then resisting religious persecution is surely an even more compelling responsibility.
We have already witnessed religious persecution in mainland China. Are we to take advantage of the Chinese Communist Party's suppression of Falun Gong in order to preserve what we regard as the purity of our own faith? Or should we stand alongside persecuted religious communities in defending our common right to proclaim and practise our beliefs?
In an age such as this, we may find ourselves in a position resembling that of the medieval Church, confronted by intricate relationships between religious and political authority and uncertain how to respond.
Yet if we reject moral neutrality, then our course of action ought not to begin with allegiance to a particular political position, but with moral considerations: defending freedom of proclamation and maintaining the free circulation of information, so that the channels through which the Gospel may be preached remain open.
If religious freedom is no longer assured, then 'Emperor Guan gazes across at the Heavenly Father' no longer represents merely the religious freedom of society. Instead, it may represent cooperation between religions in confronting political repression.
Such cooperation need not entail mutual recognition of one another's beliefs as the complete truth. Just as the Church may cooperate with other organisations without acknowledging that those organisations possess absolute truth, so it may cooperate with other religious communities without endorsing their doctrines.
This kind of cooperation is a political alliance. Where communities share the same concerns and demands, they may cooperate and communicate in order to pursue those aims more effectively. Nothing more need be implied.
Thus, to join other religions in defending the freedom to preach and the freedom of the people to choose their faith is to take a position concerning legislation, not to make a declaration concerning the truth of those religions.
Different religions may have different reasons for seeking particular legal protections. But if the protections they seek are substantially the same, why should they not cooperate?
In much the same way, Protestant churches, the Roman Catholic Church, and the three traditional Chinese religious traditions may work together in opposing gambling or promoting healthy marital relationships. Yet each remains a distinct religious community. None need participate in another's worship as though it were its own, nor need it endorse the motives which lead others to pursue the same social objectives.
In this way, the Church may remain concerned with society whilst preserving the integrity of its own faith. This tension is not unlike the many other tensions encountered within Christian theology.3
Confronted by such a society and such a government, perhaps Emperor Guan is no longer gazing leisurely across at the Heavenly Father. Nor does it seem that the Heavenly Father has entered into an alliance with a government which 'believes in just one god fewer' in order to attack the so-called heathen religions.4
Even if the Church cannot cooperate with other religions in resisting persecution, it must at least recognise that it ought not to employ political power to suppress them. Otherwise, it may one day reap the consequences of its own actions.
1 See Wang Mingdao, Another Forty Years (《又四十年》). ⇑
2 Some churches ask candidates at baptism whether they are willing to work towards the realisation of the Kingdom of Heaven upon earth. ⇑
3 See Apostles of Reason, The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind, and the article 'The Bat' (《蝙蝠》) on this website. ⇑
4 Christianity is monotheistic; the government, being atheistic, believes in one god fewer. ⇑