Give Them Courage

Some fragmented thoughts on bok choy, Hong Kong, weeds, strawberry jam, and the difficult hope that nothing is truly wasted

The 31st Day after Coronatide*
Grand Rapids, Michigan

Hey, friend.

Last night, I went to the community garden to water—we’re in the midst of a heat wave here in Michigan, with temperatures in the low 90s every day. Though the backyard bok choy has flourished, I’ve been worried about the bok choy in my garden plot, which has looked wan and pathetic. But in the past few days, it’s begun to find its growth groove. It finally looks like something I might want to eat. (Usually, I just throw it in the wok with some very hot oil, minced garlic, and some salt and pepper.) 

Bok choy, Chinese greens, long bean, scallion, chive—these are the produce of my people. I planted them because they’re the things my parents and my grandparents taught me to eat. I think of chive dumplings, of big platters of stir-fried greens, of long bean scrambled simply with eggs, of scallions mingling with ginger atop a whole steamed fish, of bok choy simmering in a clay pot with tofu and mushrooms. These ingredients whisper reminders to me of heritage, of home, of Hong Kong.

Every time I’m back in HK, I ride the Star Ferry and feel like a little boy again. I love it.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Hong Kong in recent months, as the territory has convulsed with protests and marches and cries for freedom. Few places have shaped me like Hong Kong has. My parents were both born and reared there, in the time of Queen and Empire. Its unique culture shapes what I grow, what I eat, how I approach the world. I still have permanent residency there, and my Hong Kong ID card has long been one of my prized possessions—a reminder that I’ll always be welcome to return.

The question now, though, is, Return to what? Even as we struggle in the U.S. with what democracy is supposed to mean and who gets to have a full voice, the limited democracy of Hong Kong has been chiseled away. Yesterday, the territory marked the 23rd anniversary of the handover of control from the United Kingdom to China, from one colonizer to another. The Communist authorities in Beijing marked the occasion by beginning the implementation of a sweeping new law that quashes freedom and Hong Kong’s autonomy. If I, as a Hong Kong permanent resident, were to advocate for Hong Kong’s independence, for instance, I could, next time I land there, potentially be arrested for violating the part of the law that bans acts supporting secession. (If you’re reading, Chinese spies, I’m not doing that—this is just a hypothetical example!)

A few years ago, I went back to Hong Kong to report a story for Travel+Leisure. While there, I had a private audience with Cardinal Joseph Zen, the Bishop Emeritus of Hong Kong. Born in Shanghai, Zen fled to Hong Kong along with hundreds of thousands of other mainlanders after the Communists took control of China in 1949. He became a novice in the Society of St. Francis de Sales (the Salesians) while still in his teens. 

Over the decades of his ministry, Zen became a fierce advocate for freedom and democracy. He is known for going to peaceful protests to encourage and exhort young people. This is much in keeping with the spirit of the Salesians, an order founded by St. John Bosco, a teacher whose pedagogical methods emphasized love and kindness over punishment. It was wonderful to get to sit and talk with Cardinal Zen about the connections between his activism and his faith. 

Cardinal Zen and I met early one morning at the Salesian House of Studies, a quiet building set amidst shade trees in the foothills of Hong Kong Island. Mosquitoes buzzed us the entire time as we talked at a small table in a sparsely furnished room that seemed to embody the Salesian motto: “Give me souls, take away all the rest.”

When we spoke, Hong Kong was still reeling from Beijing’s refusal to allow democratic elections of the territory’s top official. Zen had strong feelings about this: “This is a real matter between the light and the darkness,” he said. “We are deciding the future of our city. We are deciding the future of our culture. We are deciding whether we can keep our values, which have nourished us all these years. Can we maintain the fruit of the many years of education that we have tried to give to the people of Hong Kong?”

The agreement between the British and the Chinese was that Hong Kong would be allowed to keep its system of governance, complete with freedoms unavailable on the mainland, until 2047. But it was clear even then—and even more now—that Beijing has had no intention of honoring that agreement. “In these years with a chief executive chosen by Beijing, we have seen all the bad culture—culture with no value at all,” he said. “All the people in China are living on the lies of the government. There is corruption. Fake food. Fake medicine. We cannot accept that culture.”

Zen has often preached on Biblical texts about political power and its abuse. On Good Friday 2008, Pope Benedict asked the Cardinal to offer a meditation. Zen chose to write about Pontius Pilate, who oversaw Jesus’s crucifixion. He decried him as “the image of all who wield authority as an instrument of power, having no regard for justice.” But Pilate’s great flaw, in Zen’s analysis, wasn’t ego or imperiousness or callousness; it was fear. “In truth he was weak, wretched, and servile,” Zen wrote. “He was afraid of the Emperor Tiberias, he was afraid of the people, he was afraid of the chief priests—while nevertheless despising them in his heart.” And when Zen then offered a prayer for those in positions of power, he didn’t ask God for mercy, kindness, or even love. Instead, he prayed: “Give them courage”—courage to make the right choices, courage to respect the liberties of the people, courage to govern justly.

I asked the Cardinal whether any particular part of the Bible gave him special strength and resolve. He thought for a long while. Finally, he said John 12:24. That’s where Jesus says, “Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” By way of explanation, he said simply: “That’s an encouragement.”

An encouragement? This verse is part of a difficult passage. Next, Jesus says, “Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” I know Jesus isn’t urging self-flagellation or self-pity. Perhaps it’s better to translate it this way: “Those who esteem me over their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” He’s exhorting us not to hold whatever we have in this life in higher regard than what he has to offer—a better way, a better future, a better love. 

Jesus then speaks bluntly about his coming death. Zen must finally have noticed some consternation on my face. “I would not wish people to be martyrs. I don’t want any life to be lost,” he said. At the same time, he added, “we must be ready to serve.”

What does it mean to serve in times like these? I suppose there isn’t any simple answer, whether you’re here or in Hong Kong, whether you’re facing the injustices and inequities on this side of the ocean or that one. Service can mean prayer. Service can mean helping bring awareness to your communities. Service can mean identifying the connections among the various justice movements around the world, recognizing their shared interests and the echoes in the cries of the oppressed. Service can mean being on the front lines or it can mean offering much-needed background support. Service can mean finding your own way to love your neighbors well. I suppose service can even mean tending the bok choy with care, if it’s a way of honoring one’s heritage and a means of sustenance for fighting the good fight. 

In a 2005 homily, Cardinal Zen said, “A path will appear when enough people walk on it.” I guess I’m just hoping beyond hope that, here, there, and everywhere, we will be willing to walk that path together. It hasn’t been easy, and it won’t get easier. Still, I think it’s the path we’re called to—the path of justice and of love. 

What I’m Growing: Let us not even speak of the abundance of weeds that are cropping up in my plot. It’s embarrassing. Ugh. I’m really living up to the “make-believe farmer” label, when you compare my plot to those of my neighbors. But we’re trying to liberate ourselves from the culture of comparison, right? Right?!?!?

What I’m Cooking: I made a few batches of jam this week from the twenty pounds of strawberries Tristan and I picked last week. The first time I made jam, some years ago, the whole process freaked me out. I’ve calmed down since then and realized how forgiving jam-making can be. If it comes out runny? Just say it’s European-style. (American jams tend to be thicker and more set than European ones.) The first batch I made this week was strawberry balsamic; the vinegar adds a helpful tartness. The second: strawberry rhubarb. The third: strawberry and thyme (from the backyard!). I think they all turned out pretty good; Tristan hasn’t spit any out yet. Tell you what: I will mail a reader or two a jar of jam if you comment below and, I don’t know, tell me something interesting about jam—share your favorite kind or tell me a favorite story or a offer up a recipe. This was the base recipe I used for all of them.

Strawberry-rhubarb jam! I froze the rhubarb about six weeks ago, when it was at its peak

What I’m Listening To: My friend Wes sent me this song by Andy Squyres the other day and.... whew. It’s called “Dead Horse.” These lyrics! “Here is my harvest of heartbreak/ Here is my threshing of tears/ I’d give you my dream but I lost it/ Down in the locust years/ Still praise is the song that I’m singing/ Even though sorrow’s my tune/ My love is only a whisper now/ But nothing is wasted with you.” Just that one line: “But nothing is wasted with you.” Though I talk a lot about compost, some days I struggle to believe it. May it be true.

As ever, I’m glad we can stumble through all this together. I’ll try to write more soon.

Jeff

*My governor, Gretchen Whitmer, began lifting our stay-at-home order on Monday, June 1. I’m not sure she should have! The rise in cases across the U.S. is terrifying. Is it so hard to wear a mask? For the love of God and the sake of our neighbors, may we continue to #StaySafe.