Reprinted with permission of Rev. George Anderson, SJ and American Press, Inc.
106 W. 56th Street, New York, NY 10019. Copyright 1995 All Rights Reserved
Date Published:
Summer 1995
On a cool and
cloudless day in late May, a triple jubilee Mass was celebrated at St. Mary's
Church in Stamford, Conn. The liturgy marked the 65th anniversary of Cardinal
Ignatius Kung's ordination to the priesthood, the 45th of his Episcopal
ordination and the 15th of his elevation to the College of Cardinals. What made
the occasion particularly memorable, however, was the fact that the principal
celebrant, Ignatius Kung Pin-Mei, had undergone 30 years of incarceration, from
1955 until 1985. He was in prison when he was named a cardinal - in secret - by
John Paul II in 1979.
Equally remarkable was the presence of a number of others, both priests and
laypeople from as far away as Canada, California and Taiwan, who had also spent
years in China's prisons and labor camps during the same period. At a dinner in
the church hall after the Mass, it was pointed out that the total years of
incarceration of those present from the Shanghai Diocese would come to more than
300 years.
Speaking for the laypeople present, Philomena Hsieh said that many among them,
including herself, had spent their youth "in dungeons and fields, performing
hard labor. Our education was terminated...Our families were broken." Facing
Cardinal Kung at the table where he was seated for the dinner, she noted that it
was his example that had given them the courage to persevere.
The story of their courage goes back to 1949, when the Communist Government
assumed control of China. In the years that followed, repressive measures were
taken against a number of religious groups; but the Catholic Church was a
particular focus of the new Government's attacks because of its ties with the
Vatican - regarded as a foreign power with dangerous influence over the minds
and hearts of the people. During the early 1950's, foreign priests, brothers and
nuns were expelled. Some who remained were incarcerated, as were many of the
native clergy.
The latter had been forewarned. At a retreat for priests, Bishop Kung had told
them: "You must not have any more illusions about our situation....You have to
face prison and death head-on. This is your destiny. It was prepared for you
because Almighty God loves you. What is there to be afraid of?" Nor was it only
priests who were targeted. Many laypeople active in organizations like the
Legion of Mary, which the Government regarded as subversive, were to be
subjected to the same treatment as those in religious life.
Given the tensions that prevailed as the repression became more severe, it was
with considerable boldness that Bishop Kung declared 1953 a Marian year
throughout his diocese. One of the scheduled events was a special evening of
devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus for the young Catholic men of Shanghai.
Just hours before the event was to take place in the cathedral, Government
troops barricaded the main streets in the surrounding area. But the men came by
foot, assembling in the square outside and packing the cathedral itself. As the
bishop moved through the crowd, some of them surrounded him as a protective
escort. After the devotions inside had concluded, he emerged to lead the
stations of the cross, followed by leaders of the youth groups carrying a large
wooden cross. The evening ended with the people chanting their personal support,
despite the presence of the police.
Finally, two years later, on the night of Sept. 8, 1955, there was a massive
sweep by the Government that resulted in the arrest of seven diocesan priests,
two Carmelites, 14 Jesuits and 300 laypeople. Philomena Hsieh, then a university
student active in the Legion of Mary, was among them. Bishop Kung was arrested
too. Spotlights shone on the exterior of his residence as security police
climbed the surrounding walls. Others guarded the doors. Handcuffed, he was
taken away to jail. A second, larger raid on Sept. 26 led to the arrest of
another 10 parish priests, nine more Jesuits, 38 seminarians, five nuns and 600
lay man and women.
Like the others arrested, Bishop Kung was known by a number. He had two of them.
The first was 1423, then later 28234. Not until five years had passed was there
even a trial. Found guilty of treason, he was sentenced to life in prison. His
offense had been two-fold. First, despite an offer of immediate freedom were he
to do so, he consistently refused to renounce his allegiance to the Pope and to
sever all ties with the Vatican. Second, he would not recognize the validity of
the Chinese Catholic Patriotic Association, which the Government had by then
established in an effort to suppress the legitimate Catholic Church.
To join the Patriotic Association, priests had to sign a statement relinquishing
their ties with the papacy. Only after this would they be allowed to function as
priests. Though most chose to remain part of what they refer to as the
underground church, some did acquiesce. Consequently, having established a
division in the Catholic Church, the Patriotic Association remains a source of
great difficulty for the Vatican. Adding to the difficulty is the fact that the
Government began appointing bishops of its own, subject to the control of the
National Religious Affairs Bureau.
For 30 years, Bishop Kung - who remains to this day the Bishop of Shanghai - was
allowed no letters and no spiritual books, not so much as a Bible. Nor was he
allowed to celebrate Mass, receive the sacraments or have visitors.
Representatives of international humanitarian organizations repeatedly requested
to see him, but were always refused. As the years passed, his incarceration
increasingly came to be seen as a universal symbol of the struggle for human
rights. But so complete was his isolation for three decades that, following his
eventual release and his arrival in the United States in 1988, he told a
reporter for a Connecticut newspaper that the guards passing his cell were
ordered to look the other way; even that degree of contact with other human
beings was denied to him.
In a sense, however, he was not entirely alone. Others were suffering with him.
A main concelebrant at the May 27 liturgy was Archbishop Dominic Tang Yiming of
Canton (who died of pneumonia a month later on June 28 in Stamford, Conn.) A
Jesuit, he was officially exiled by the Chinese Government after Pope John Paul
II appointed him archbishop in 1982. His own 22 years of imprisonment coincided
with Ignatius Kung's, as did the many years behind bars of others arrested
during the same period. Like Bishop Kung, he had shared the sense that
incarceration was to be a part of his vocation.
In his memoirs, How Inscrutable His Ways! 1951-1981, Dominic Tang writes of a
Chinese nun who told him at the time of his appointment as bishop: "Your
vocation to be a bishop is a vocation to be imprisoned." Her observation led him
to reflect: "I always asked God for the grace to realize this vocation." As with
Cardinal Kung, the grace was richly if painfully granted. The two indeed had
much in common.
Like Ignatius Kung, Dominic Tang, during the years of his imprisonment, was not
permitted to write or to receive letters, nor was he allowed visitors until a
few months before his release in 1980. His separation from the outside world was
complete to the point that his family and friends presumed him dead, and his
Jesuit brothers in Hong Kong had Masses said for the repose of his soul.
Dominic Tang's life in prison during these hidden years was physically as well
as psychologically hard. "We would shiver all over with hunger," he wrote, and
so low in nutrients was the food he received that he developed beri beri. While
at the Wong Wah Road prison - one of several in which he was confined - his
cellmate was a deranged man. "Once he came over to me and vigorously slapped me
on the face, so that my glasses fell to the ground." On another occasion during
the night, the same man "came over and walked on me and terrified me as he woke
me up."
Prayer was the primary sustaining force. The prayer he recited most frequently
was one composed by St. Ignatius of Loyola, founder of the Jesuit order: "Take,
O Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and entire
will, all that I have and possess. You have given them to me; to you I return
them....Give me only your love and your grace, for these are enough for me." For
those in his position, with their liberty and much else wrested from them, the
prayer must have had a particular significance.
In addition to Ignatius Kung and Dominic Tang, there were other priests among
the concelebrants at St. Mary's in Stamford who had also been imprisoned for
their faith. George Wong, S.J., for example, who was ordained by Bishop Kung in
1951, spent seven and a half years in prison and another eight in a labor camp.
Assigned to the rice fields, he worked barefoot in the water with leeches
clinging to his ankles. Traces of the scars still remain. His crime? After
Bishop Kung's arrest, he refused to sign a statement accusing the bishop of
being an "imperialist stooge". "After I refused at the police station, they told
me I could go home," Father Wong said in a recent interview. "But I knew it
wasn't over, so I prepared a small bundle of clothes and other necessities. That
night, at 11:30, they came and took me away."
During those years in prison, he was at one point in a cell with 22 others, so
crowded together that when they lay down on the floor to sleep at night, each
had to keep his head to the wall, with no space between one man and the next.
When the guards learned that he had been teaching the Hail Mary to a fellow
prisoner, he was punished by having his hands handcuffed behind his back for 50
days. Although he tried to explain that it was only a prayer, with no political
ramifications, the prison authorities believed, because of the name Mary, that
the prayer might be associated with the Legion of Mary. And in fact, at his
sentencing after seven years, one of the accusations against him was that he had
been working with the Legion of Mary as an anti-revolutionary.
A further instance of Father Wong's ministry while incarcerated occurred during
the first year, when he was alone in a cell with a former telegraph operator.
The man expressed an interest in Christianity. Although talking was forbidden,
they managed to whisper, and after three months, the cellmate asked to be
baptized. To provide instruction, Father Wong used the back of the cell door as
a blackboard, and with a wet rag he wrote on it the prayers he felt essential
for the man to know - including the Hail Mary - so that he could memorize them.
The actual baptism took place in a corner of the cell, at a moment when they
knew the guard would not be watching.
For another concelebrant, Francis Xavier Ts'ai, S.J., the sentence to prison and
labor camp amounted to 35 years. Arrested at the same time as Bishop Kung and
convicted of the standard charge of anti-revolutionary activities, he was
initially incarcerated in Shanghai with six other Jesuits. The interrogations
were especially wearing because, as he said during a recent conversation at Our
Lady of China Chapel in Queens, N.Y., where he is associate pastor, the
interrogators would call for him at any hour of the day or night. His
imprisonment included torture. For two months he was kept in a subterranean cell
with no light except the faint light from the corridor. The floor was covered
with several inches of water, and was called, in fact, the prison of water. He
slept on a concrete platform in the center.
Because any sign of prayer, such as movement of the lips, was prohibited, his
prayer was necessarily a prayer of the heart. There were two that he used
constantly. One he had learned in French: Mon bon Jesus, glorefiez-vous, et le
reste importe peu. ("My good Jesus, glorify yourself, and the rest counts for
little.") The second was from a Chinese poet: "God is always Lord. There is no
place that is not my home" - that is, in prison as well as everywhere else.
"With these two prayers, constantly repeated in my heart," he said, "I could
endure everything." When at last he came to trial in 1960, he was judged with a
group of 13 other priests and a bishop - Ignatius Kung. Then followed the many
years of labor camp, working from 6 A.M. to 6 P.M. in a brick and tile factory.
Dominic Tang Yiming, George Wong and Francis Xavier Ts'ai are Jesuits. Cardinal
Kung has ties with the Society of Jesus that go back to his youth, when he
attended St. Ignatius High School in Shanghai. After his ordination as a
diocesan priest, he was appointed principal of the Aurora High School and later
of Gonzaga High School. Both, like St. Ignatius High School, were sponsored by
the Jesuit order.
As for the situation of the Catholic Church in China today, the persecution has
continued. Joseph M. C. Kung, the Cardinal's nephew, who was responsible for his
coming to this country, spoke in an interview of the ongoing efforts by the
Chinese Government to suppress the underground or unofficial church. He
estimates that there are approximately 50 bishops and 400 priests who have
resisted the pressure to join the Patriotic Association, and whose lives have
for this reason been made extremely difficult.
"In 1989, the underground bishops decided to organize themselves openly into the
National Conference of Roman Catholic Bishops, in contrast to the
Government-controlled Patriotic Bishop's Conference," Mr. Kung said. "Their
purpose was to have a more effective ministry through the sharing of information
between them and the underground dioceses, and to inform the world that the
Roman Catholic Church in China was growing in spite of the continuing
persecution. They never opposed the Chinese Government as such," he added. "They
only sought to have the religious freedom guaranteed by the Chinese Government's
constitution and by international standards of human rights. Nevertheless,
within a few months, they were all arrested in different parts of China and held
for varying lengths of time".
Three of the arrested bishops died in custody: Shi Chunjie, Auxiliary Bishop of
Baoding; Fan Xueyan, Bishop of Baoding, and Liu di Fen, Bishop of An Guo.
According to Mr. Kung, other bishops are being held in detention, for example,
Bishop Lee Hongye of the Diocese of Luoyang.
As president of the Cardinal Kung Foundation in Stamford- a group that provides
support for the underground church through newsletters, financial aid to
priests, seminarians and nuns, and other projects - Mr. Kung is in regular touch
with sources in China. He was there last year accompanying a delegation headed
by Republican Congressman Christopher H. Smith of New Jersey.
During the course of that visit, Bishop Su Zhiman of Baoding agreed to celebrate
Mass for the group in a small apartment in Beijing. Shortly after the delegation
left China, the bishop was arrested. In subsequent testimony before the
Subcommittee on International Security, International Organizations and Human
Rights of the House Foreign Affairs Committee, Mr. Kung said that Bishop Su
Zhimin had been detained for nine days and was released only after the
intervention of Congressman Smith.
Unauthorized Masses outside Patriotic Association churches are officially
forbidden. Many, like the one celebrated by Bishop Su Zhimin in the Beijing
apartment, take place in homes or in the open air. "Masses in homes are being
raided more and more often," Mr. Kung said. "The people who attend are heavily
fined - up to a month and a half's wages - and some are placed in detention." He
went on to describe a series of arrests that took place this past Easter in the
province of Jingxi, when, over a four-day period in mid-April, between 30 and 40
people were arrested. At the time of our conversation in June, he said that 12
key lay Catholics were still in jail there, including a 60-year old blind man
named Zhang Wenlin. During the same series of arrests, two women were so badly
beaten that they were unable to feed themselves.
Some underground priests have simply disappeared at the hands of the
authorities. Father Chi Huitan who was scheduled to celebrate an Easter Mass for
600 people in an open field near his home in Hebei Province, had been ordered to
cancel the Mass and to transfer his con- gregation to the Patriotic Association.
He ignored the orders and went ahead with the liturgy as planned. The next day
his chalice, paten and other materials for Mass were confiscated, his house
sealed, and he himself was arrested. Mr. Kung says his whereabouts remain
unknown.
Despite such efforts at repression, however, large numbers of Catholics continue
to gather by the thousands at outdoor shrines during the spring. One of the most
important is the shrine of Our Lady of Dong Lu, southwest of Beijing. An article
in The Washington Post for June 2 described an unauthorized Mass there attended
by 10,000 people. Mr. Kung said the number was in fact considerably larger, and
that people gather there from all over the country to pray throughout the whole
month of May, not just on May 24, when the feast of Our Lady Help of Christians,
the high point of the season, is celebrated with the Mass described in the Post
article. "Last year as well as this year, the Government blocked the main roads
to the shrine, but people came anyway, from long distances, using the smaller
roads and even mountain trails and paths."
With virtually all the churches controlled by the Patriotic Association, some
underground bishops have tried to build their own churches. Government
opposition can take dramatically concrete form. Mr. Kung cited the example of a
church one bishop managed to build in the late 1980's.
"Soon after the church was finished, the Government sent in bulldozers and razed
it," he said. "But the bishop went ahead and built another one, and this time
the people were prepared. They posted lookouts, and when the bulldozers appeared
again, they formed a human ring around the church, four deep. The bishop told
the security officers, 'if you want to destroy the church, you'll have to kill
these people.' After a long standoff, the security officers backed down." Mr.
Kung compared the successful outcome of this incident to the much publicized one
during the military assault on Tiananmen Square in 1989, when a student holding
a flower stood in front of a tank. The tank came to a halt rather than crush him
beneath its treads.
Though the persecution of Catholics continues, it has in some respects taken on
a different form in recent times. "It's not the way it was in the 1950's and
1960's, when people were imprisoned for 20 or 30 years and more," Mr. Kung said.
"Now the tactic is to jail people for shorter terms and to keep arresting them
at irregular intervals. It's meant as harassment, since you don't know when the
next arrest might be made. When it comes," he continued, "it's along the lines
of what might be called administrative detention, because that way nothing is
written up formally, as it would be if the matter went through the courts. This
is how they try to say that there are no religious prisoners in China, which is
simply untrue."
Despite the continuing opposition, Mr. Kung said, the number of women religious
and seminarians in the unofficial church continues to grow, though not without
severe constraints. Most of the underground seminarians, for instance, have to
hold regular jobs in order to support themselves. The Patriotic Association
seminaries, on the other hand, which are controlled by the Chinese Government,
have far greater financial resources. As a result, their own seminarians are
adequately supported both at home and abroad. Some have come to the United
States to study in diocesan seminaries here. This apparent concession to the
Patriotic Association is troubling to supporters of the underground church like
Mr. Kung.
"When he was in Manila this past January," he said, "Pope John Paul II broadcast
a message to Catholics in China saying that a true Catholic cannot reject the
principle of communion with the successor of Peter. And yet in this country
American Catholic priests concelebrate with Patriotic Association priests.
Recently, Catholic New York, the newspaper of the Archdiocese of New York,
reported that four Patriotic Association priests studying here have been granted
full faculties and are therefore allowed to celebrate Mass and administer
sacraments at Transfiguration Church in the Chinatown area of the city.
Situations like these," he went on, "create confusion for Catholics in China and
cause enormous pain to the underground bishops. It appears that the delicate
circumstances regarding its dealings with China make the Vatican hesitant to
announce a clear policy with respect to the Patriotic Association."
The confusions and lack of clarity in church policy are likely to continue for a
long time to come, given the ebb and flow of tensions between the Chinese
Government and the Vatican. No diplomatic relations have existed between them
since the expulsion of the pro-nuncio in 1951. Officially, the Vatican is
willing to recognize only the legitimacy of the Chinese Government in Taiwan.
It is certain, for the present, that the repression of religious groups in China
is far from over, and that imprisonment for reasons of faith continues. Hence it
was all the more moving to be present at the gathering in Stamford, both for the
liturgy itself and then for the dinner that followed in the church hall, with
its tribute to Cardinal Kung by Philomena Hsieh. Though not intended as such, it
was also a tribute to her and the others present - including Joseph Kung's
sister, Margaret - who had known in their flesh something of the experience of
the Cardinal. Ms. Hsieh herself spent a year in prison, only to be arrested
again in 1958, when she was sentenced to four years in a forced labor camp.
There she met her mother, a prisoner too, convicted of not having properly
indoctrinated her daughter into Communist ideology.
The Cardinal's name in Chinese, Pin-Mei, means "the character of a flower that
blooms in the bitter winter." It is a fitting name, both for him and for the
many for whom his example of constancy was a source of strength as they endured
their own bitter winters in the prisons and labor camps of China.
But the gathering had a chastening overtone too. The 300 years of imprisonment
represented by the men and women who had gathered that day, whether as presider,
concelebrants or laity, served as an astringent reminder to Americans, who have
always known freedom of worship: We perhaps tend to take this freedom too much
as a given, almost casually. For the Catholics of the underground church in
China, it is a freedom yet to be won.