Qiji is 4 years old and comes from a village in rural China. She is smart. Tell her what a particular animal is called and after only a single listen she can gleefully point out a “bird” whenever a magpie swoops by. Qiji has no official right to an education. It is quite possible that she will never see the inside of even the most basic rural classroom.
It was not by accident that we walked through the front arch of the Nantang (Southern Cathedral) a full two hours early for the six o’clock Christmas Eve Mass. The four of us had been living in Beijing for four months by the time the Advent Season had begun. We knew, from first-hand experience, just how exhausting and time consuming it could be to travel from our apartment in Beijing’s northwest corner to one of the city’s downtown Roman Catholic cathedrals. We also were well-aware of the tendency for Chinese cathedrals, of which there are relatively few in a country of perhaps 13 million Catholics, to fill up rather early. Just how early? On Christmas Eve, we quickly discovered that we had indeed entered the cathedral just in the nick of time, as there was only one pew left that had enough room for four people and an unobstructed view of the altar.