In those days there was no king in Israel. Everyone did what was right in his own eyes. Judges 21:25
Well, 2026 is charging along at a rate of knots. Easter has come and gone, another academic year has finished and we have just started the summer course, we have had the Winter Olympics, Wimbledon, and the Football World Cup where England once again nearly bought it home, but all good plans … And if you are wondering, I didn’t watch one match of the football, but still managed to have a good conversation on what was happening and who was winning or loosing from headlines, excited students and walking into a Sha Tin Shopping mall just as Harry Kane was scoring against Mexico, where I was greated to a huge cheer from hundreds of excited Hong Kongers – I was certain we would loose – thanks Dad and Matthew for instilling in me the ability to absorb Football without even trying.
At the beginning of the year, my church decided to go through the book of Judges in the Old Testament. The book of Judges is not an easy read; it is one I had read before, and it’s one we often know of the famous judges – or at least we think we do. Who could forget Samson and his strength, or Gideon with the fleece? We paint a nice clean picture of them – especially in children’s Bibles (and thank goodness we do, as some of it is very unpleasant). We easily forget the sometimes very troubling accounts written. All these judges are flawed humans who all make mistakes, but aren’t we all flawed? We all make mistakes; we do not always learn from our mistakes. I listened to an interesting podcast about whether we could learn from history. While there are general lessons to learn – we all tend to take from the lessons what we want to learn, what is most convenient for us, the lessons that we tend to find help us to justify our own point of view, or to support why we do things the way we do. I am not saying this is right or wrong. I am just as guilty of looking at the past through my own lenses. Through my upbringing lenses, through my cultural lens and through my religious lens. Alex, our vicar, asked a very poignant question – Are we really in charge of our own learning? Are we our own boss? Are we guilty of saying I do me, you do? How then do I change? The first step, I guess, is acknowledging these lenses; the second is allowing God to change my heart and spirit. To let Him correct, guide, and always fix my eyes on Him. I know that when I try to rule without God, that is when I make a bigger mess than when I totally trust God.
Thankfully, we then went into Lent and into the seven I am statements from John. Ash Wednesday happened, when I attended a very moving Ashing service at St Andrew’s. I must have looked odd going back to Kwai Hing with a cross plastered across my forehead. A group of friends and I also decided to read a book of sermons by Charles Spurgeon. I have a very organised friend who set up a WhatsApp group, organised a Word document to write down what we were learning every day, and scanned the pages for those who didn’t manage to get the book. Charles Spurgeon is a wonderful Christian minister, and his words and teachings have helped many. While we all got something out of it, some days were really tough reading it in old English. Good Friday and Easter Sunday came, and again, this was another opportunity to gather as a church family to celebrate what Christ did. It was also a joy watching one of my beautiful Goddaughters try and find Easter Eggs in her flat for the first time – it was raining so couldn’t do it outside. This definitely brought up memories of my childhood Easter egg hunts, how Uncle John, who was our Easter bunny, would always hide the green egg in a tree for me in my half of the garden. My brother would always manage to find his eggs quickly – I would spend ages, not because I was more diligent, but because I could never find that one egg. It would lead to either Aunty Margaret or Auntie Grace helping me find it.
Easter came and went. The academic year sped by with the usual pressures of trying to make sure that the students improved in their exams, trying to stop the 3/4 year olds from falling off their chairs, and the usual mind-numbing memes – I will be so grateful when ’67’ passes, but knowing how things go, the next will be even more irritating.
This year, I decided to try and start the Wilson Trail, which was not the easiest start. Instead of having a nice work-up to the climbing of the hills, this one decided that it was going to start with 1000 stairs up, then you go down and then another 1000 stairs up. I was 3/4 of the way up the second 1000 when a nice gentleman said that I would eventually see the spiritual side of the walk, and that the views were lovely. And indeed they were lovely, but most of the time it was looking at the feet, making sure not to fall flat on my feet. However, I did complete it, and the views were spectacular, reaching out over the ocean and beyond. I did marvel at the beauty of the world and God’s handiwork – as it says in Psalms 19:1-6:
The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork. Day to day pours out speech, and night to night reveals knowledge. There is no speech, nor are there words, whose voice is not heard. Their voice goes out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world. In them he has set a tent for the sun, which comes out like a bridegroom leaving his chamber, and, like a strong man, runs its course with joy. Its rising is from the end of the heavens, and its circuit to the end of them, and there is nothing hidden from its heat.
I haven’t managed to do any more of it for various reasons, but I did take up visiting various temples again. The first was The Ten Thousand Buddhas Monastery (萬佛寺) in Sha Tin, which is one of Hong Kong’s most distinctive and spiritually rich Buddhist sites. Despite the name, it actually contains nearly 13,000 Buddha statues, each unique in expression and posture. It is a mid-20th-century Buddhist temple complex founded by Yuet Kai in 1949 and completed in 1957. Although called a ‘monastery’, no monks live there, and it is run entirely by volunteers. The ascent is lined with hundreds of life-size golden arhats (enlightened disciples), each with a different face, posture, and personality. They are not Buddhas; they are luohan, guardians of the Dharma. In the actual upper main hall are around 12,800 small Buddha statues arranged on the walls. Each is slightly different, creating a shimmering golden interior. The number 10,000 reflects the Cantonese idiom where ‘ten thousand’ means ‘an uncountable multitude’. The hall also houses the preserved body of Yuet Kai, seated in lotus posture. I respect everyone’s right to believe what they want; the followers of Yuet Kai are genuine believers, and I am sure they believe wholeheartedly, and could probably teach me something about devotion. I admit to finding this practice a little strange. Yuet Kai was born somewhere between 1878 and 1879; he studied philosophy at Zhendan University in Shanghai – one of China’s leading institutions at the time- was a skilled lyre player, poet, and widely travelled lecturer and became a monk at 19. While it is incredible to see his devotion to Buddha, I find it hard to understand the logic or reasons behind this part. Apparently, he burned two fingers and, using his own flesh cut from his chest, made and lit 48 lamps as offerings. That was strange enough, but after his passing on the 24th April 1965, he was buried in a coffin for eight months. When exhumed – his wish – his body was reportedly uncorrupted, with intact features and golden colouration. His followers attributed this to spiritual attainment. The newspapers at the time reported he had been embalmed. His body was lacquered, gilded, robed, and placed in a glass case known as the ‘Diamond Indestructible Body of Yuexi’. It is still displayed in the main hall today. He is remembered today by those who follow him as a bridge figure between classical Chinese Buddhist asceticism and modern Hong Kong. A hands-on builder who created a major religious landmark with almost no institutional support. A charismatic teacher whose life story blends scholarship, devotion, and myth and a cultural icon, since the monastery’s pagoda appeared on Hong Kong’s HK$100 banknote (1985-2002). Again, I mean no disrespect, and many will question why I believe in Christ rising from the dead; maybe my lack of understanding is a little bit of ignorance and not realising there was this strain to a part of Buddhism – again, not all, but part. While I hold strong to my faith and to God, I find life an interesting journey, and it is good to learn what others believe, to get rid of unfounded fears and ignorance, and to challenge my preconceived ideas.
The other place I visited was Nan Lian Garden & Chi Lin Nunnery. They sit side by side, forming one of Hong Kong’s most harmonious expressions of classical Chinese spirituality. Though each is distinct in its purpose – one is a public garden, and the other is an active monastic complex – they embody a unified cultural and contemplative space, showing the aesthetics, philosophy, and architectural mastery of the Tang Dynasty. Chi Lin Nunnery was founded in 1934 and is dedicated to female monastics. The atmosphere is intentionally quiet and contemplative. It is not a museum – it is a living spiritual community. There is daily chanting, meditation, and monastic discipline that shapes its rhythm, even though much of this life remains respectfully hidden from visitors. Nan Lian Garden is more recent, having opened in 2006, and was designed as a spiritual extension of the nunnery. While not a religious site in itself, it embodies Buddhist principles through the landscape design: still ponds mirror the mind in meditation, curated rocks evoke mountains, Penjing Trees reflect the idea of patient cultivation, and quiet pathways encourage slow, mindful walking. It is a real taste of serenity, where for a moment in time we can block out the noise of Kowloon. Together, Nan Lian Garden and Chi Lin Nunnery form a single spiritual and cultural ecosystem. One is devoted to monastic life and Buddhist devotion; and the other (which I am more in tune with as I can see God’s hand in it more) invites us to share in the values of harmony, balance, and reverence for nature, and the God who created it all. They stand as universal reminder that spirituality, and indeed Christianity, is not only found in temples or churches, – it it the world around us, it can be cultivated in gardens, in architecture, in silence, and in the way a space is shaped to honour God, beauty and peace, and in the day to day living out our faith making a difference to those around us.
This has become a rather long-winded blog. I am sure there are many more things that I could write about, but I’ll leave that for the next time. I would like to close with where I began. I have described two temples here in Hong Kong; there are many more, and while they are beautiful and peaceful, I also find an emptiness when I look into the statues in them. I am grateful that I worship a living God who cannot be contained in a building, who is everywhere. I am reminded that I fall short of God daily, and am tempted away. I pray daily that God will help keep me on the straight and narrow. That I don’t get tempted away from His way, and that I don’t do what is pleasing in my own sight. I have a mighty and forgiving Lord, who is there with open arms for all who believe, and for that I am truly grateful. I hope that 2026 so far has been a good year for you. That you have found peace, and all that you need. Thank you for journeying this far with me. Until next time. x
(While most of this is my own thoughts, the facts about the temples I have got from scholars on the internet – wikipidia, or doing a brief scan of the web using AI)
katherineyiend 