NOTES ON A WORLD TOUR (Part 2)
LEROY GARRETT

Taiwan is indeed a grand experiment. For a decade now our government has given Free China an average of 100 million dollars a year, and Christian missions and private enterprise have dumped many more millions into the economy. Such liberality should payoff, and it is paying off, for Taiwan is both free and prosperous. The big question is whether the Chinese will be able to go it alone anytime soon. The target date for the withdrawal of U. S. aid is somewhere around 1970, and the hope is that by that time the economy will be strong enough to stand on its own. In our interview with diplomatic officers at our embassy in Taipei the view was expressed by an economic expert that Taiwan would soon be financially independent, especially if big industry and exports continue to grow as they have.

But the experiment involves more than U. S. Dollars. There is a drama taking place between opposing ideologies. We must look to Taiwan as a hopeful show-piece for democracy in Asia. Unlike Japan that has long been a powerful nation, Taiwan is a small, under-developed island that stands as the last vestige of a Free China. China is lost except for Taiwan. It is therefore very important as to what happens to Taiwan. If, in contrast to what appears to be the case in Red China, Taiwan becomes an oasis of peace and prosperity amidst a desert of poverty and oppression, it will serve as an important example to the other countries of Asia.

I was fortunate enough to have considerable contact with the Taiwanese and Chinese at all levels of society, from Chiang Kai-Shek to the humble pedicab driver. The audience with the president of the Republic of China called for the protocol that is usually required when visiting with a head of state. We professors were accompanied by U. S. Ambassador Wright as well as Cultural Attache Pardee Lowe. Once we passed the security guards into the spacious presidential palace, we waited in a large outer office for the appearance of the generalissimo. Generals, interpreters, and diplomats were scurrying around as we waited, as people always must in meeting a king or the like. We were told to do as the ambassador did in greeting the president, which meant to assume the respectful stance when Chiang Kai-Shek entered the room.

The interview was not particularly important, for it could hardly be a discussion of issues, but only a reciprocal manifestation of respect and goodwill. The president briefly reviewed the circumstances that brought him and his government to Taiwan, and he commented upon the progress made since that time, but apologized for the things one must endure who comes from a prosperous country like America. He expressed hope that we had had a good look at Free China. He called for statements from some of us, and there were four of us, including myself, that got into the act of talking with the president. My words were strictly courtesy remarks in that I expressed regret that we could not be with Madame Chiang, a woman educated in our country and loved and respected by Americans. Through his most capable interpreter he thanked me and went on to say some interesting things about his wife, mainly revealing that she was ill, a fact not publicly revealed, and added that she had expressed regrets at not being able to be with the American professors’ as she had the year before.

Obviously nothing very profound was said, but we had met and shaken hands with a world figure, and even talked with him, an experience gratifying to us all. Several of us agreed that the most significant thing about the meeting was the apparent abundant health of the president. Stories were out that he was appearing in public so seldom because of bad health, but he was both animated and robust when we saw him. He could hardly have looked better for a man moving into his mid-70’s.

There is the often-asked question of what is to happen when Chiang passes on, one that we asked in our interview at the U. S. Embassy. The official opinion is that the vice-president will move up to the presidency. A popular opinion is that Chiang’s son will ascend to the throne, but our officials in Taipei think this unlikely, and they also think that Madame’s role will be a subdued one after the death of her husband. The Embassy does not anticipate any further “family problem” in the Chinese government.

One educator with whom I talked, the father of one of our students at Texas Woman’s University and a refugee from the mainland, revealed unusual knowledge of American politics and foreign policy, being quite a specialist in Asian politics. Knowing nothing about my own partisan views, he sharply criticized the policies of the Kennedy administration. Our president is not sufficiently aware of the communist threat, he thinks, and he is too slow to react against it. Kennedy is an opportunist who is concerned mainly with getting reelected. Since the president knows that Americans do not want war, he appeases this wish by taking chances with communistic aggression. The president should stop Communism at any price, he told me. He sees Cuba as a catastrophe and views all of South American as in peril, and he blames Kennedy. By the same delayed action Kennedy has virtually handed Southeast Asia into communistic hands. The American president is power-conscious and is willing to compromise with the Russians in order to gain the image of a peacemaker and thus endear himself to the American voter, he told me as if he were sure he knew his man.

He told me of how Communism in China had taken from him his home, his art treasures, his future and his job, as well as his wealth and security, and separated him from many of his loved ones and his homeland. I studied this intelligent man as he sat there recounting his life in China to me. He has been in Taiwan for 14 years as a refugee, having left his home to escape Chicom oppression. He is now not quite at the retirement age, which means his most profitable years have been lost. He taught in three universities in China, but in Taiwan there was no job for him. “This man knows something about Communist oppression while most of us in America do not,” I said to myself. No wonder he thinks we are stupid to let this world menace come to our very doorstep with only token protest on our part!

I talked with pedicab drivers, soldiers, mothers, students, scientists, merchants — all sorts of Chinese people. They are as delightful a folk as one could expect to find anywhere. They talk less than we do and eat less; they usually take a siesta at mid-day due to the tropical heat; most of them have work and no one is starving, though the standard of living is still far too low; there is lots of poverty. A Chinese soldier that I met at a Mandarin movie (with English sub-titles) knew enough English, and was gracious enough, to invite me to his home. As a captain in Chiang’s army he makes the equivalent of $15 U. S. per month. To get to his home, which turned out to be what we would call a shack, we walked through sections of Taichung that were poverty stricken. I saw merchants closing their small shops, converting them into sleeping quarters, with several youngsters crawling into one bamboo bed, and in some cases the entire family crowded into one such bed. Children play in narrow, crowded, dirty streets; there are no parks, at least I never saw one nor heard of any. We passed by a community latrine, and the soldier explained that it was the toilet for 50 families; another such toilet would be a few furlongs away for another 50 families. There was a community fountain from which they carried their water, but they did have electric lights, and the soldier had both a radio and an electric fan, proud and expensive possessions. He learned his English by listening to lessons on the radio!

All across Asia I found myself quite a novelty to the natives, for I was often off the beaten track of tourists, so many who saw me were seeing an American for one of their very first times. In the back streets of Taipei I noticed people coming out of their houses up and down the block to get a look at me as I made my way into the home of a family with a daughter in our university. Though they watched intently, their waves and hello’s, sometimes in English, indicated their friendliness. Sometimes I would stop to play with the kids in the streets, communicating with them the best I could Frequently it was difficult to get away from them, for they would follow me as I walked on through the back streets. Many times I would show a gang of 20 or 30 children the wallet pictures of my wife and three adopted children, hanging on to my wallet the best I could.

On several occasions when I did this it would attract the attention of the adults, who would come to take a look, and in turn explain to the children which one was “mama” (the same in all languages) and which ones were Phoebe, Philip, and Ben. Only by hurrying away could I escape, and once in Agra, India, I could not get away from about 50 children however much I tried. They so crowded me that I once grew fearful they might unintentionally harm me. I tripped over them a few times and struggled to maintain my possessions, for they yanked things from my pockets and pawed at my clothes as if I were a creature from another planet. It was only when disturbed adults came out to chase the kids away that I was able to get back to the tourist bus. I had the bad habit of walking to the back streets and alleys, away from the usual tourist attractions, in order to see how the people really lived, and that was one time I was glad to get back all in one piece. On that same walk I saw a woman taking a bath right out in the street. But that was India and I’m getting ahead of myself, though I’ll never get it all told.

I looked in vain for worship services of any segment of our disciple brotherhood while in Taichung. Different groups of our people have mission stations in Taiwan, but no work has yet reached Taichung insofar as I found out. I was attracted to a gathering that advertized itself simply as “Christian Meeting Place” in both English and Chinese. Though the services were all in Chinese, I was blessed by gathering with these Christians. I shall never forget how they sang, “All for Jesus, All for Jesus,” in their beautiful Chinese language. There were several things about the way they worshiped and the way they believed that made me feel much at home. One of the sisters knew English, so she filled me in on what kind of people I had discovered.

The most notable feature is the distinction they make between a worship service only for Christians and a gospel service for non-Christians. They have both each Sunday, but to the Christian meeting where the Lord’s Supper is served only baptized believers are invited. This service differs from the gospel meeting in that there is no preaching, only voluntary remarks from different male members. In some of our British and American churches, including our own Wynnewood Christian Chapel in Dallas, this would be called mutual edification. At this Christian meeting the seats are rearranged to form a square, with the Lord’s Table at the center, and all the service is directed toward remembering the Lord’s death and resurrection. There is no instrumental music; the sisters remain silent and have their heads covered (a covering is furnished, so they are all alike). By “baptized believer” they mean one who has been immersed into Christ. They are very evangelical, speaking often of what the Christ did for them at Calvary.

The gospel meeting, conducted each Sunday morning (the other is in the afternoon) consists mainly in preaching the gospel, but there is also singing and prayers, and in this service an organ is used! There were one hundred or more attending these gospel services, while the Christian meeting had no more than thirty or forty saints.

I said to myself: “Why is not this also a Church of Christ?” I asked some of the orthodox brethren this question while in Taipei, explaining in detail what I had found, but the reaction I got was that it was just as sectarian as any of the other “denominational churches.” But to the sister at the “Christian Meeting Place” I said: “Tell these brethren that once they have evangelized Taiwan I would like for them to come to America!”

I spoke several times to different groups of non-instrument Churches of Christ while in the city of Taipei. It was a sad experience to find brethren of the Restoration Movement divided in such crucial areas as China and Japan. Can a divided world be expected to heed the call to the one Lord from a divided Church?

INDIA

Though I had long heard about the adverse circumstances of India, I was hardly prepared for what I saw. Beggars hounded the tourists there more than any other place I visited. I saw families sleeping on the street in front of the hotel where I stayed in New Delhi. In the eating places I had the feeling that nothing was really clean, and generally I saw such poverty that it distressed me and made me feel helpless. Mothers with babies would stand at the bus windows and point to their mouths, indicating they were hungry. On the 80-mile journey by bus to Agra to see the Taj Mahal I saw such stark poverty that it was hard to believe. My thought was: is it just for this nation to be in such abject want while so many nations of earth are rich? That bus journey convinced me that nearly all Americans are indeed rich people!

When I registered my reactions to India to an Indian professor who teaches at the University of London with whom I sat on my flight to Lebanon, he replied: “Oh, you saw the most prosperous part of India. You should have seen Calcutta.” He pointed out that in Calcutta and some other Indian cities people actually die in the streets of starvation. The professor listed for me the most pressing problems of his native land as having this order: (1) overpopulation, which is the root of most of the problems, for any progress made is more than swallowed up by the population explosion; there are now nearly 400 millions, and it is figured that by about 1980 there will be upward of one billion; (2) unemployment; there are simply too many people and too few jobs; (3) lack of education; the population increases faster than they can build schools; also lack teachers and money; (4) religious division; difficult to get anything done since Hindus, Moslems, and Buddhists will have so little to do with each other; lots of prejudice, superstition, ignorance.

The point was brought home to me that it is so understandable how a nation like India might turn to Communism — or to anything that might offer some relief from her agonies.

Yes, I saw the Taj Mahal and found it as splendid as I expected. One writer says that it is worth the trip to India just to see the magnificent palace of marble. But there seemed to me to be something contradictory about it all, such rich magnificence in a sea of poverty. I just cannot quite forget India, and it is not the Taj Mahal that lingers with me. I returned home convinced that the woman statesman, whose name slips me, is right who contends that all developed nations should give 5% of their gross national product and thus save nations like India. Presently our country is giving hardly 1% in aid to under-developed nations.

HOLY LAND

The flight from New Delhi to Beirut in Lebanon was one of the longest legs of my journey. The freshness and comparative prosperity of Beirut was a welcome change from the dismal experiences in India. Much of the city is new, with bright brick apartment houses gracing long stretches of the coast along the Mediterranean. The streets are wide and have ample motorized traffic. The whole atmosphere appeared more “western” than oriental, though supposedly I was now midway between East and West. The Europeans call this part of the world the Near East, which it is to them, but we might more properly refer to it as the Middle East.

The Mediterranean Sea impressed me with its majesty as much as with its historicity. I was in no particular mood for bathing, but I just had to walk out into the famous sea and let her persuasive waves bear me back. I gathered a few shells that lay buried in the clean sand. One can do a lot of thinking as he looks out over those blue, salty waters. He can recall Jonah fleeing from the call of God or Paul hastening to the call of God. And the many shipwrecks — and the stories they could tell. By the way, those ships may yet tell part of their stories, for archaeologists hope to learn much more about ancient cultures by recovering some of the many ships that lay sleeping in the Mediterranean.

On my flight from Beirut to Jerusalem aboard Jordanian Airlines I got a good look at Damascus, and I was able to spot the approximate place of Paul’s fantastic experience with the heavenly light. Throughout the 40 minute flight I kept my nose against the window in an effort to absorb as much as possible of the land that I heard, dreamed, and read so much about. It was far more barren and desolate than I thought it would be. There were times when I could not spot a single tree or blade of grass or anything alive as far as I could see in all directions. It was anything but “a land flowing with milk and honey.” In was rather sandy, barren, hilly, and rugged-and desolate! But of course a lot has happened to it in the past 3,000 years. That the Turks made it a point to destroy every tree during their attacks would be one factor.

Jerusalem was of course a fabulous experience. I tried to make every hour count of the three days I was there. I walked through the city time and again, visiting the celebrated “holy places” as I had opportunity. I was disappointed to find so much commercialization. One merchant emphasized for me that “this is the holiest place in the world” and so I should fill my suitcases with souvenirs. I got the impression that everybody was after my money. I purchased almost nothing at all while there, so disgusted was I with what I saw. Even the guides would make it a point to Stop off with their parties at the gift shops, getting a percentage of course of all the money spent. I finally dropped the guides and went on my own, though incessantly bothered by someone with something to sell.

I journeyed the ten miles or so to Bethlehem and saw the Church of the Nativity, the traditional spot of the Messiah’s birth. Then I went to Bethany and descended into the tomb of Lazarus, which may well be authentic. Then to Qumran to visit the ruins of one of the Essene communities and to see the caves where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found. I did considerable work about all this while at Harvard, so it was quite an experience to see the layout in its stark reality. But it was terribly hot and humid and barren and deserted. I know now just how barren the wilderness of Judea is, and I thought of John the Baptist, for he preached in the very area where I was visiting. It is quite possible that he was brought up by the very Essene community that once flourished alongside the Dead Sea, or one like it. In any event John remained in the wilderness until it was time for him to be manifested to Israel. For a great preacher of God to do his work in such a desolate area shows that God’s ways are so unlike our own — “that your faith should be in the power of God rather than in the wisdom of men.” Most of us would have sent the Baptist to some place like Athens or Rome.

Within the city of Jerusalem itself I walked the traditional “way of the cross,” which leads to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, where one can see the supposed spot where our Lord laid in his death. A short distance away is the Garden Tomb which also claims to be the place, but which probably is no older than the Byzantine period. Three “catholic” faiths maintain the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and keep a constant vigil with some kind of service. They are the Coptic, Greek, and Roman churches, if I recall correctly. One is reminded as he visits Jerusalem that it is a “holy city” nor only for Christians but for Jews and Moslems as well. Various descendants of both Ishmael and Isaac may be seen moving through the busy, narrow streets of the old city. The Bedouins struck me as especially interesting. And there was a Bedouin woman who came near striking me most literally, for she thought I had taken her picture as she carried a jar of water from the pool of Siloam. A guide explained that she feared I would show her picture to many people and say bad things about her. She fairly blessed me Out in an unknown tongue, and it is just as well that I’ll never know what she said. I had only aimed my camera in her direction in hopes of getting the shot I wanted of the pool. A shot of that woman in her rage would be an elegant possession. So you see I am talking about her, the very thing she dreaded, even without a picture!

One has to do a lot of reconstructing in his mind as he looks at Jerusalem if he hopes to get a historical perspective of the 3500 year old city, for one city lies under another. If one thinks he might be standing where Jesus stood, he must remind himself that Jesus would be standing at a level several feet below his level, that the Jerusalem of the time of Jesus lies buried beneath the present city. One can get the picture somewhat when he sees the diggings of the archaeologists. I looked down — way down — to see an ancient portico with a connecting wall that was being uncovered in an effort to ascertain the layout of the ancient city. Even more revealing is “the place called the Pavement” where Jesus was tried before Pilate. A nun guided me through the basement of the church that now stands where the procurator once sat in judgment against Jesus. Nearby in the same basement area is a remnant of one of the portals through which our Lord may well have walked. But all this is down under the present city, which is no more than a few hundreds of years old. There is not even one building standing that stood then, though it is believed that the present wall that surrounds the city is in some places built upon the foundations of the old one. One must remember that he is in a city that has been destroyed several times.

By fortuitous circumstance I came upon Jack Lewis while in Jerusalem, a professor at Harding College with whom I attended both college and university, and together we did several interesting things, the most notable of which was to walk through Hezekiah’s tunnel, which was dug back in 700 B.C. This famous engineering feat, as impressive as any of ancient history, is mentioned in the Bible bur is described with some detail on the walls of the tunnel itself. The tunnelers began at both ends and cut through solid rock until they met each other. Jack and I with our flashlights found the spot midway through where the diggers met. King Hezekiah ordered this engineering job in order to bring water from the pool of Siloam in under the wall into the city in order to guarantee enough water for the people during the siege on the city by the Assyrians.

I was impressed with the Garden of Gethsemane, probably the authentic location. From the garden one can look across the Kidron valley to the Mosque of Omar, a Moslem sanctuary, that stands where Solomon’s temple once stood, on Mt. Moriah. It is built over the rock where Abraham offered his son. I also found the ruins at Jericho interesting. Since a war is going on between Israel and Jordan, I had to stay on the Jordan side since I was to go on to Egypt, for one cannot go from Israel to an Arab state.

EGYPT AND EUROPE

I crowded Cairo into an already tight schedule in order to see the pyramids, and that is about all I did there. I sat for hours looking ar the three pyramids near Cairo, the famous Cheops being the largest and most impressive. It took 100,000 men working in 3-month relays to build this giant tomb. It is truly a wonder of the world, for the way the huge stones fit together to form the impressive design is hardly credible, and this was done something like 5,000 years ago. “Time defies man, but the pyramids defy time,” was one statement I heard in a dramatic production called “Sound and Light” at the base of old Cheops.

I had time for a few hours in the national museum in Cairo where I saw a score of mummies that have been preserved for thousands of years. It seemed unreal to look at the well-preserved remains of queens and kings that lived 2,000 years before Christ.

Having only about ten days for Europe I could do no more than to see a few of the things I had always wanted to see. Three days in Athens, Greece gave me a studious look at the Acropolis. I especially enjoyed the Parthenon, taking time to read a book about it as I sat before it. The book explained that all the buildings of the Acropolis (which means “high city” and thus overlooks modern Athens) are but a dull reflection of the glory that was once theirs. The marble facades that once graced the Parthenon are now in London. I got to see them at the British Museum. The Greek government is insisting that they be returned to Athens in justice to history, but London does not see it that way.

I dined leisurely one evening at a quaint Greek restaurant below the Acropolis and spent the time studying the famous scene before me, now brilliantly illuminated by changing colors. I could imagine the beauty and attraction it once had, though one sees but the ruins now, for even now it is esteemed the most magnificent structure ever built. I recalled how Paul saw this very scene in the fulness of its glory, but his reaction was different, for “he was exasperated to see how the city was full of idols” (Acts 17: 16 NEB) I thought of how Socrates, who 400 years before Paul and who also looked at these same buildings and taught in the same streets, taught that for something to be beautiful it has to be appropriate. Even gold and ivory are not beautiful, he argued, unless they are appropriately used. Paul was close to Socrates on this score, for to him the magnificence of the Acropolis was overshadowed by the shame of idolatry.

I walked in the environs of where Paul stood, and I walked along the Forum where even yet remains of the idols Paul saw still stand. I noticed the place where the old philosophers had their schools, where Plato and Aristotle worked with the great problems of human thought, and where the Stoics and Epicureans forged their views of brotherhood. In my room that night I read the account of Paul’s visit to Athens in Acts 17 (New English Bible) and it was a thrill to my soul. I was also infatuated with the theatre of Dionysus where Greek drama was born, which is still somewhat preserved — at least some of the marble seats are. I made it a point to sit for awhile in the one that was always reserved for Emperor Hadrian, and there passed before my mind’s eye the splendor of the dramatic tragedies of Euripides, Sophocles, and Aeschylus (the one who invented tragedy by introducing the second actor) that once graced the stage before me. It was all in the open air and the tragedies originally attracted thousands. The theatre is thought to have seated 20,000 at one time. The glory that was Greece!

My last day in Athens was about over when I met up with a student in an Athens college, who explained to me how proud he was to be a Greek, and he knew why too. I told him that I had seen the main things I had come to see, but that I had missed the prison of Socrates. That very hour I had returned from the Forum where democracy was born, where every citizen had not only the right to vote but the right to dissent. I had seen the Greek edition of “Sound and Light” and it was as if I had listened to Demosthenes himself. But I still had not had time to hunt up Socrates’ prison, where a hero of mine taught men how to die by showing them how to live. This college student took me that very hour to see Socrates!

It was a fitting way to bid farewell to Greece. There I stood with a young man that was proud to be a Greek, one who knew what history had done for him, and one who could approach the place where Socrates died with a quiet reverence. In the distance was the Acropolis, shining brightly. I knew I had reason to thank God for the Greeks. It was as if I could hear Socrates say in his last hour the truth we are all too slow to learn: “No evil can befall a good man.”

I spent most of my time in Rome walking about the city and visiting museums and basilicas. I took a long look at the Coliseum where the gladiators fought and where Christians were killed by lions. In stands in mute testimony that love can conquer the evil power of a Nero. The pope has erected a cross in the arena where the saints died. Gladiatorial games gave way to the force of Christian love. I also spent a half day at Vatican City in the rain. I watched with interest as a Swiss guard snapped to attention and saluted a cardinal who moved on toward the pope’s well guarded quarters. It seemed to symbolize what has happened to Christianity since it first emerged in Rome.

I took only a day for Paris since I was running out of time, but I did get to see Mona Lisa at the Louvre, Leonardo’s priceless painting. I had always heard of her enigmatic smile, so I wanted to see for myself. A crowd was standing before her while I was there, the famous lady that she is. I walked over much of Paris, taking buses when I wanted to rest. I wanted to see the spot where the Bastille once stood, so I dined at an interesting restaurant just across from that hallowed place. I remembered what men can and will do when they really want to be free.

In Germany I visited with my old friends, Dick and Nell Smith, in Karlsruhe, and in the same city called on the Roman Catholic orphanage that had been the home of my son Philip. They could not have been more courteous, and they were eager to know how Philip was doing in his new home in America. I took pictures of the nuns that had nursed our boy until he was nearly 6 years old, and of his playmates, and have shown them to him since my return. I spent a half day in Heidelberg where I visited the famous university (founded 1386) and walked in “the philosophers’ way” on a nearby mountain, where philosophers have drawn the inspiration that helped to make German thought so productive. Hitler should have paused there. It might have changed history.

In London I saw the usuals, but the most impressive thing is what many might have missed: a small sign in Westminister Abbey that announced a meeting in which prayers were offered for Christian unity. The thought struck me that I have been brought up in a church that supposedly believes in Christian unity, but not once do I recall a prayer service or any other kind of service in behalf of unity. Of all places: Westminster Abbey!

At the risk of being late for the opening faculty gathering at Texas Woman’s University, I stopped over in Glasgow long enough to get the feel of old Scotia, Robert Burns’ native land. I attended worship at the Church of Christ there that practices “mutual ministry,” which is not unusual for British churches. I also had time for a conference with Prof. William Barclay at the University of Glasgow. We talked about unity, and he explained that the churches in Scotland had reached an impasse in regard to unity over the question of the ministry. Scotland was the most delightful country I visited. If I could return to anyone of the 12 nations I visited for a year’s sojourn, I would choose Scotland.

The big Scandinavian Airlines super-jet flew me to New York in just 7 hours. In New York I hurried through customs to my plane for Dallas. My long ticket that read “Dallas to Dallas” was now all used. I leaned back for a restful 3-hour flight home, and 10 and behold I found beside me one of my students at Texas Woman’s University with all her Connecticut yankee charm, headed for her classes. It was the grand finale of a fabulous journey.