Strangers at the Cathedral

by Maria Theja (Taiwan)

I didn't expect to find Taiwan

The grey building couldn’t be more different from how it usually looked like from Monday to Saturday. On those six days, when the glass doors were blocked with yellow wooden doors and the windows covered, the interior could not steal even the gentlest of the sun’s kiss; but on Sunday, sunlight danced in through the stained-glass windows and created lovely colours on the marble floor as everything - 24 windows, five doors, and the gate - was opened. And it was Sunday, a sunny Sunday - almost hot although autumn had come. Luckily, a cooling breeze from the Love River, just west of the cathedral, blew from time to time, tossing the parishioners’ hair in a teasing and carefree manner. Proudly I stood at the main entrance of Holy Rosary Cathedral, Kaohsiung, in my Indonesian traditional costume, carrying the red-and-white flag of my homeland. While I didn’t come to this church very often, it was a special day: it was Migrants Sunday, when foreigners in Taiwan like me would be specially prayed for during the Mass. National flags were to be paraded and placed inside the church throughout the Mass, and I felt honoured to be elected a flag-bearer to represent my home country. The Holy Mass was started and then ended, and a cultural party followed, with traditional dances performed and cuisines from different countries were served. It was not, naturally, held inside the Gothic-Romanesque church, but at the auditorium of Diocese of Kaohsiung office just next to the cathedral. Some people came just for the free buffet, some because their friends were there, but others struck random conversations with parishioners they had never talked to before. This last group was, for me, a wonder to behold: a Canadian asked a gentleman in his Indian attire how long he had been in Taiwan, the man carrying the flag of Democratic Republic of Congo told a Filipina about his family back home. It was just like what the priest had said earlier in his greetings: people of diversity united in love and faith. When I looked up, a man was standing beside me, and I recognised him as a fellow flag-bearer. Smiling, the young gentleman - who, I later learnt, was called Mike - tried to make a small talk by asking which food I liked best. “The yellow rice,” I said, “but I’m partial, because it’s from Indonesia and I miss home.” I giggled at my own answer while my listener laughed. “Are you a student? What do you study?” he asked again. “I study literature,” I told him, and our conversation expanded to talks about books, hobbies, and other interests. As we conversed, our shared trait of shyness and introversion gradually crumbled. Stammers gone, comfort grew, as if this community of love and faith served as a safe haven where one can share a secret without fearing it would leak. Mike’s Latin eyes met my Asian, and at the end of that Sunday, the honesty reflected in his made me want to genuinely befriend him. I still didn’t go to Holy Rosary Cathedral every Sunday after that, but something there invited me to come back every now and then. Often nicknamed Rose Church by locals, I now like to believe it’s because roses symbolise love for many, and love glides on its wings through this cathedral. Or so, to give it a more straightforward nickname: Love Cathedral. I could sense it: love was everywhere in this cathedral. Love twinkled in the priest’s eyes in recalling how he witnessed mistreated fishermen earned their rights and echoed on the church pillars of grey and gold as the choir sang hymns. Love was in the arms of a group of parishioners who hugged each other and at the pat a sad-looking young lady received on her back. On that Migrants Sunday, little did I expect that small talks between diverse people could blossom to a beautiful friendship, but turned out the priest was right: love and faith had the power to unite people of diversity. Smiling at this thought at the end of one Holy Mass that winter’s day, I gave Mike’s hand a gentle squeeze. He took mine, and together we walked outside, ready for our romantic date.