AbuZayd Al-Britaani
06-05-04, 05:22 PM
Faith Sprouts in Arid Soil of China
By HOWARD W. FRENCH
Published: May 6, 2004
MAJIAZHUANG, China - They gathered under a blazing midday sun, raptly
observing as four men in skullcaps held down the bull in preparation
for its sacrifice. Little girls stood wide-eyed, while boys tried to
appear unfazed, and the wizened grandmothers who, having seen such
things countless times, were abuzz instead about the rare appearance
of foreigners in their hamlet.
The guest of honor, the sheik, or spiritual leader for a large Muslim
population concentrated here in the arid, landlocked region of
Ningxia, glanced anxiously at his watch, hoping the butcher would
arrive so that he could get on with his busy schedule.
The butcher arrived, and within minutes his deed was done, his red
blade thrust into the soil as the bull's life drained into a shallow
pit. The sacrifice of a sheep followed. Moments later, as all were
seated for a feast in memory of an elder who had died, the sheik
whispered to a visitor: "Don't eat too much. There will be a feast in
the next village, too."
Asked as he piled into his chauffeur-driven, four-wheel-drive vehicle
if he presided at ceremonies like this every weekend, the 39-year-old
Muslim leader who bears the title sheik, but prefers to go by his
name, Hong Yang, issued a world-weary sigh. "I do it every day," he
said. Then he drove off.
As the leader of the Kufiya sect, more than a million strong, Mr.
Hong is responsible for adjudicating local disputes, charity,
patronage and, of course, matters of the faith. Communist ideology
holds that religion would wither, but as a precaution, under Mao's
rule it was actively suppressed.
These days, signs of religious revival abound in China, perhaps
nowhere more than among the country's largest Muslim minority, the
Hui, who are historically centered in this area of north-central
China, where Persians and Arabs migrated in the seventh century,
intermarrying with local populations. But the limits on Islam and
other faiths enforced by the government remain strict and carefully
observed.
Reliable religious data is hard to come by in China, but the
country's estimated 20 million Muslims are often said to constitute
the second-largest religious community, after Buddhists, who may
number as many as 100 million. Christians of various denominations
are also believed to number over 10 million, and adherents of all of
these faiths are widely believed to be growing.
"It used to be that religious freedom only existed on paper, but now
it is flowing into our daily lives," said Mr. Hong, who received a
visitor a stone's throw from the towering main mosque in nearby Hong
Gangzi. "We are allowed to say whatever we want to, as long as we
respect the party.'' Mr. Hong's statement had the ring of a
disclaimer, something prudent to say in a country where the
government decides who is and who is not allowed to be a religious
leader and even where people may gather to worship. Mr. Hong, a
graduate of Beijing University who studied theology in Pakistan, is
clearly on the approved list, unlike many ethnic Uighur Muslims in
the country's far west, who are viewed as dangerous separatists. His
particular sect of Sufi Islam, run by his father and grandfather
before him, has a long history of ups and downs. "In the 1950's, the
Hui Muslim leaders were accused of landlordism, and persecuted," said
Dru Gladney, a China specialist at the University of Hawaii who has
written extensively on Islam. "In the capitalist era, they have been
given freer rein, but lead a precarious existence because the state
can go after them at any time. This actually makes them very useful
to the government, because they are always anxious to prove their
loyalty to Beijing."
Even for someone like Mr. Hong who goes along with the system,
however, faith very quickly bumps up against the limits of what the
government will allow. Islam, for example, commands its followers to
spread the religion, but China strictly prohibits proselytizing.
"We can teach children very basic things about the religion in terms
of culture," he said. "From primary school to high school we are not
allowed to teach religion. We feel helpless to change this because
these are the nation's rules. But God grants spirituality, and for
those who are fortunate enough it is felt in one's heart.
"Our faith may sometimes seem reduced to a matter of customs, but
that is because we must survive in this system."
Mr. Hong said the government's attitude toward religion had gradually
become more tolerant in recent years. "Not long ago, when party
leaders used to open meetings about religion, they would begin with
slogans about religion being the opium of the masses, but they don't
say that anymore," he said. "The trends of the times show that
religion cannot be suppressed by power any longer."
It is the ferment in spiritual matters among ordinary Chinese, and
not official attitudes, that gives Mr. Hong the most hope,
however. "I see hundreds of people coming to convert," he
said. "People feel supported by their religious belief in a way that
is totally spiritual. Those who don't have this have their money and
nothing else."
http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/06/international/asia/06chin.html
By HOWARD W. FRENCH
Published: May 6, 2004
MAJIAZHUANG, China - They gathered under a blazing midday sun, raptly
observing as four men in skullcaps held down the bull in preparation
for its sacrifice. Little girls stood wide-eyed, while boys tried to
appear unfazed, and the wizened grandmothers who, having seen such
things countless times, were abuzz instead about the rare appearance
of foreigners in their hamlet.
The guest of honor, the sheik, or spiritual leader for a large Muslim
population concentrated here in the arid, landlocked region of
Ningxia, glanced anxiously at his watch, hoping the butcher would
arrive so that he could get on with his busy schedule.
The butcher arrived, and within minutes his deed was done, his red
blade thrust into the soil as the bull's life drained into a shallow
pit. The sacrifice of a sheep followed. Moments later, as all were
seated for a feast in memory of an elder who had died, the sheik
whispered to a visitor: "Don't eat too much. There will be a feast in
the next village, too."
Asked as he piled into his chauffeur-driven, four-wheel-drive vehicle
if he presided at ceremonies like this every weekend, the 39-year-old
Muslim leader who bears the title sheik, but prefers to go by his
name, Hong Yang, issued a world-weary sigh. "I do it every day," he
said. Then he drove off.
As the leader of the Kufiya sect, more than a million strong, Mr.
Hong is responsible for adjudicating local disputes, charity,
patronage and, of course, matters of the faith. Communist ideology
holds that religion would wither, but as a precaution, under Mao's
rule it was actively suppressed.
These days, signs of religious revival abound in China, perhaps
nowhere more than among the country's largest Muslim minority, the
Hui, who are historically centered in this area of north-central
China, where Persians and Arabs migrated in the seventh century,
intermarrying with local populations. But the limits on Islam and
other faiths enforced by the government remain strict and carefully
observed.
Reliable religious data is hard to come by in China, but the
country's estimated 20 million Muslims are often said to constitute
the second-largest religious community, after Buddhists, who may
number as many as 100 million. Christians of various denominations
are also believed to number over 10 million, and adherents of all of
these faiths are widely believed to be growing.
"It used to be that religious freedom only existed on paper, but now
it is flowing into our daily lives," said Mr. Hong, who received a
visitor a stone's throw from the towering main mosque in nearby Hong
Gangzi. "We are allowed to say whatever we want to, as long as we
respect the party.'' Mr. Hong's statement had the ring of a
disclaimer, something prudent to say in a country where the
government decides who is and who is not allowed to be a religious
leader and even where people may gather to worship. Mr. Hong, a
graduate of Beijing University who studied theology in Pakistan, is
clearly on the approved list, unlike many ethnic Uighur Muslims in
the country's far west, who are viewed as dangerous separatists. His
particular sect of Sufi Islam, run by his father and grandfather
before him, has a long history of ups and downs. "In the 1950's, the
Hui Muslim leaders were accused of landlordism, and persecuted," said
Dru Gladney, a China specialist at the University of Hawaii who has
written extensively on Islam. "In the capitalist era, they have been
given freer rein, but lead a precarious existence because the state
can go after them at any time. This actually makes them very useful
to the government, because they are always anxious to prove their
loyalty to Beijing."
Even for someone like Mr. Hong who goes along with the system,
however, faith very quickly bumps up against the limits of what the
government will allow. Islam, for example, commands its followers to
spread the religion, but China strictly prohibits proselytizing.
"We can teach children very basic things about the religion in terms
of culture," he said. "From primary school to high school we are not
allowed to teach religion. We feel helpless to change this because
these are the nation's rules. But God grants spirituality, and for
those who are fortunate enough it is felt in one's heart.
"Our faith may sometimes seem reduced to a matter of customs, but
that is because we must survive in this system."
Mr. Hong said the government's attitude toward religion had gradually
become more tolerant in recent years. "Not long ago, when party
leaders used to open meetings about religion, they would begin with
slogans about religion being the opium of the masses, but they don't
say that anymore," he said. "The trends of the times show that
religion cannot be suppressed by power any longer."
It is the ferment in spiritual matters among ordinary Chinese, and
not official attitudes, that gives Mr. Hong the most hope,
however. "I see hundreds of people coming to convert," he
said. "People feel supported by their religious belief in a way that
is totally spiritual. Those who don't have this have their money and
nothing else."
http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/06/international/asia/06chin.html