Chapter 208: The Church
Xiao Zishan felt as though he had been handed a scalding hot potato. He was still wrestling with how to organize the school. Since no one showed the slightest interest in becoming a children's teacher, he would have to serve as principal himself for the time being. Of course, he would need to find an executive vice-principal—someone he would have to search for at his leisure. But one thing had been confirmed at the meeting: transmigrators with "dependent personnel" were eligible for a dependency allowance, a demonstration of the administration's humane policies.
The meeting also addressed cooperation with the Church—a decidedly thorny issue. Beyond acquiring European personnel, technology, and materials, the transmigrators hoped to harness a new religion to create spiritual sustenance and moral principles for future citizens. But they had no desire to see the Church accumulate excessive influence or authority in social life—let alone authority that originated from abroad.
"The Jesuits are determined to spread Catholicism into China. Instead of letting them do the preaching, we should do it ourselves," Wen Desi declared.
"We do the preaching?"
"Precisely. Rather than passively obstructing and defending, we should channel the flow." Wen Desi elaborated on his "we take the lead" approach to missionary work. "'We take the lead' means this: the Church—I'll permit you to establish one. Faith—I'll let you spread it. But control of the local church must rest with us. The Church can exist only as an appendage and instrument of the transmigrator regime."
"Will the Jesuits agree to such conditions?" Ma Qianzhu was no admirer of the Jesuits either.
"They will," Yu Eshui said with supreme confidence. "The Jesuits have always been famous in Church history for their 'accommodation policy.' They're far more flexible than those fanatics who know only how to make human barbecue."
"I have no objection to that. But how exactly do we 'take the lead'?"
Wen Desi chuckled. "Are you familiar with the term fait accompli?"
Bai Duoluo had just gotten off his shift at the printing plant when he was summoned to Wen Desi's office.
"Little Bai, are you willing to contribute your strength to the organization?" Wen Desi intoned solemnly from behind his desk.
Bai Duoluo's scalp prickled and his legs trembled. In the Chinese experience, when a leader asked such a question, nothing good ever followed.
"Might I ask... what this is about?" Bai Duoluo ventured cautiously.
"Well, it's a good thing. After discussion, the Executive Committee has decided to have you serve as the head of the Lingao Catholic Church—say, um, bishop."
"What?!" Bai Duoluo nearly leapt out of his skin. He was merely an ordinary lay believer—not even a monk—and they wanted him to be a bishop! The notion was absurd.
"Father Lu Ruohua of the Jesuits has arrived in Lingao. The Executive Committee is about to begin negotiations with him regarding Church affairs." Wen Desi glanced at the door. The Internal Affairs personnel standing guard outside immediately closed it, plunging the room into sudden dimness.
"Reaching a missionary agreement is probably unavoidable," Wen Desi continued. "Even if we refuse, they'll simply send priests to infiltrate and establish an underground church. You know about underground churches..."
Bai Duoluo's scalp prickled again—of course he knew what underground churches were. He nodded.
"The Jesuits already have a foothold in Ding'an County on Hainan, at the very least. The Wang Honghui family's influence shouldn't be underestimated. Wang himself is a jinshi degree-holder and former Minister of Rites, with connections to Matteo Ricci in Beijing. His son Paul is extraordinarily enthusiastic about missionary work. If we don't act proactively, the Jesuits will focus their efforts exclusively on Ding'an. Once they've established themselves there, we'll be facing a Hainan church system that answers to the Macau Jesuits when we eventually unify the island." Wen Desi polished his glasses. "This cannot be permitted to happen."
"True."
"So our thinking is this: we establish our own church with a transmigrator as its head. That way, the Macau Jesuits would have only a cooperative relationship with us. No matter who they send, those priests would be nothing more than guest advisers. With you as the Bishop of Lingao, the Jesuits would have no avenue to seize ecclesiastical authority. Do you understand?"
Bai Duoluo understood what Wen Desi meant perfectly. "Bishops require consecration by the Holy See," he said. "If we establish a so-called Lingao Catholic Church here without Papal consecration, it would be self-consecration—neither the Jesuits nor the Holy See will recognize it."
As a Catholic, Bai Duoluo naturally knew that the Church had always been extraordinarily particular about the authority to ordain bishops.
"But our Australian Church is a 'lost church,'" Wen Desi countered, having already thought this through. "A lost church expressing loyalty to the Holy See? The Curia would be so overjoyed they wouldn't quibble over consecration. Nine times out of ten, they'll retroactively recognize the result. So we'll arrange for you to serve as bishop of the Australian Church, presiding over Lingao's ecclesiastical affairs. The Jesuits will probably agree to these conditions for the sake of a missionary breakthrough."
Wen Desi was quite confident in this reasoning. What era was this? It was an era when Catholic power had been waning since the Reformation. Catholic Spain had been defeated twice by Protestant England and was now a spent force. Protestant England and the Netherlands were on the rise. Germany was drowning in the blood-soaked chaos of the Thirty Years' War. The Catholic Church faced attacks and challenges on every front. The sudden appearance of an Australian Catholic Church right now would serve as an excellent stimulant for the beleaguered Church. Wen Desi didn't think Lu Ruohua, the Jesuits, or the Holy See would fail to see through the Executive Committee's intentions, but the benefits the transmigrators were offering in exchange would be tempting enough.
Bai Duoluo himself was a Catholic with sufficient knowledge of religious texts and Church affairs. He was the perfect candidate for the position of "Bishop of Lingao" of this fictitious Australian Church.
To Wen Desi's surprise, after some consideration, Bai Duoluo still refused.
"Director Wen, I don't think I can do this."
"Why not?"
Bai Duoluo steeled himself. "Director Wen, becoming a bishop requires taking vows—once you take them, you must keep a vow of chastity for life. I still want to get married."
Wen Desi thought this was indeed troublesome. Being a bishop wasn't a matter of a day or two, and the man hadn't traveled through the wormhole just to spend the rest of his life as a celibate monk.
"No problem—you can return to lay life later."
"No, that won't work." Bai Duoluo shook his head emphatically. "If I become the Bishop of Lingao, according to your estimate, the Holy See will probably consecrate me. At that point, my religious faith won't allow me to return to lay life—but I don't want to be a monk."
It seemed religious faith really was stubborn. Wen Desi cursed inwardly and continued trying to persuade him.
"We could reform the Church system—allow clergy to marry, that sort of thing."
Bai Duoluo stubbornly shook his head. "You could call that the Chinese Catholic Church or some other Chinese Jesus Church, but it wouldn't be Catholicism anymore. Though my faith isn't terribly strong, I'm not willing to take false vows."
It seemed this Catholic was of no use after all. This disappointed Wen Desi considerably. Seeing his expression darken, Bai Duoluo sensed things were going poorly and quickly added, "But I'm willing to assist the Executive Committee with all Church work, as long as you don't make me impersonate a clergyman or become a monk."
Wen Desi had little choice given the man's firm stance. However, if Bai Duoluo was willing to cooperate within certain limits, the matter was still workable. Compared to Bai Duoluo, Miss Mendoza was even less reliable.
Since Bai Duoluo wouldn't do it, finding a substitute bishop on short notice would prove extremely difficult. In truth, having Bai Duoluo impersonate a bishop would have been a stretch anyway—he was no theologian, and most people here had never even read the Bible.
"Then you'll serve as a priest. It seems that doesn't require vows," Wen Desi suggested, clearly glossing over the theological details.
"Alright." Bai Duoluo yielded, likely calculating he could negotiate the specifics later.
"We'll also need a church..." Wen Desi mused, hand on his chin. "But then again, this church should appropriately be funded by the Macau Jesuits." A new idea occurred to him, and he immediately picked up the phone to call Ding Ding.
After hanging up, he considered the question of staffing. Bai Duoluo's attitude made one thing abundantly clear—this man couldn't be relied upon in religious matters. So more trustworthy people would have to be assigned to work alongside him—preferably French speakers. They would also need to prepare a few locals as an audience to create a favorable atmosphere for Lu Ruohua.
Lu Ruohua had been taken to the quarantine camp at Lingao Corner the moment he disembarked. The camp now received people daily—the Guangzhou station sent approximately one hundred children and adolescents from the city almost every week. These individuals were "purified" here while waiting out the quarantine period and acquiring some basic cultural skills. Lu Ruohua received the full "purification" treatment—stripped naked, head shaved, hosed down with cold water, and scrubbed vigorously with brushes. He endured all of this with the profound patience of a martyr. That composure lasted until he was forcibly held down and had his buttocks spread open for inspection. Only then did he panic. He was certain these pagans were about to commit the wicked sin of Sodom upon him. But they merely looked and moved on. Someone later explained that the examination was for health purposes. Lu Ruohua had also studied medicine and realized this procedure appeared to be screening for hemorrhoids. But he couldn't understand: hemorrhoids weren't contagious. Why were the Australians so concerned about this? Did they suffer from severe hemorrhoids?
The quarantine camp staff treated him quite courteously. They arranged a private room for him with a bed furnished with clean grass mats and felt padding. His luggage and clothes were delivered—the clothes had obviously been laundered.
Lu Ruohua was told he could do whatever he wished in his room but was forbidden to leave except to use the toilet. A guard was specially posted at his door. Three meals a day consisted of rice porridge with fish and meat. Apart from the restriction on movement, life was rather pleasant.
This captive existence wasn't lonely. Every day, a refined person came to chat with him in the language of his homeland: French.
Lu Ruohua noticed the transmigrators possessed a remarkably clear concept of France, unlike other Chinese who considered themselves well-informed about the world if they knew there was a "Europe." This slightly surprised the missionary—because in France, and indeed all of Europe, no one had heard of any place called "Australia." Yet Australia knew about France.
What surprised him even more was that this was the first local person he had met since coming to the East who thoroughly understood French history—not just ancient history, but even Cardinal Richelieu and his siege of the La Rochelle fortress beginning in 1627. The news of that siege had barely reached Vienna within a month! Yet someone in the distant East, ten thousand miles away, knew about it in detail.
(End of Chapter)