I read this book in one sitting last night. The author, Liao Yiwu, is a not a Christian, but has spent half his life "capturing extraordinary stories from ordinary people." Each of the 18 chapters has a different story to tell, many of them about Christians who kept the faith despite Mao and the Red Guards. Many of the stories refer to hymns as part of the Christian's life. For example, a minister is serving a long prison sentence. He sees an old friend, as they both work in a field. "The prison rules forbade inmates talking to each other." So he "began to hum loudly a hymn as a way of greeting."
In another chapter, the author interviews the privileged daughter of Communist officials, who was an avant-garde poet and university teacher. She became depressed after the Tiananmen protests in 1989. "One Sunday morning, I passed the Catholic church on Zouma Street. I could hear singing and, out of curiosity, went in and saw hundreds of people under that beautiful high-arched ceiling singing along with the choir and the organ. I stood at the back, with my head down, and soon realized I was humming along with them. I felt someone touch my elbow. An old woman was smiling at me. Her face was creased like the bark of a thousand-year-old tree. She gestured for me to lift my head and sing. I felt embarrassed. I had never heard hymn singing before. I had never heard such pure and heavenly music. Tears welled up in my eyes. That old grandma handed me her hymn book. When she smiled again, I noticed that she had only one tooth left. She stood there, sticking out her dry, flat chest and singing her heart out. The whole church was under the spell of Jesus, not a shred of distraction. Everything was so bright and pure. I'll never forget the first hymn that I sang: The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. . . ."
It made me think, what a great honor and mission we have in the house of the Lord, to give his people music for joy, strength, and solace. And the next time an old parishioner asks me to play "Old Rugged Cross," I'll be more careful to find out why it's important to him. If he sang it in labor camp, then I'll answer, "But of course I'll play it. How many verses, and how often?"
In another chapter, the author interviews the privileged daughter of Communist officials, who was an avant-garde poet and university teacher. She became depressed after the Tiananmen protests in 1989. "One Sunday morning, I passed the Catholic church on Zouma Street. I could hear singing and, out of curiosity, went in and saw hundreds of people under that beautiful high-arched ceiling singing along with the choir and the organ. I stood at the back, with my head down, and soon realized I was humming along with them. I felt someone touch my elbow. An old woman was smiling at me. Her face was creased like the bark of a thousand-year-old tree. She gestured for me to lift my head and sing. I felt embarrassed. I had never heard hymn singing before. I had never heard such pure and heavenly music. Tears welled up in my eyes. That old grandma handed me her hymn book. When she smiled again, I noticed that she had only one tooth left. She stood there, sticking out her dry, flat chest and singing her heart out. The whole church was under the spell of Jesus, not a shred of distraction. Everything was so bright and pure. I'll never forget the first hymn that I sang: The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. . . ."
It made me think, what a great honor and mission we have in the house of the Lord, to give his people music for joy, strength, and solace. And the next time an old parishioner asks me to play "Old Rugged Cross," I'll be more careful to find out why it's important to him. If he sang it in labor camp, then I'll answer, "But of course I'll play it. How many verses, and how often?"