by Aidyn Austin
Of Hong Kong’s two cathedrals, it is the seat of the Anglican bishop, St. John’s, that tends to win all the tourism plaudits. It is older [1849], undeniably pretty, ringed by mature trees—even a patch of lawn—and reached by a quick stroll up Battery Path, enticing Instagrammers and society brides.
Demanding a tougher climb up to Caine Road is the Catholic Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception. Inaugurated on 7 December 1888, it is a generation younger than its Anglican counterpart.
Hemmed in on all sides by the Catholic establishment—Caritas House, the Catholic Diocese Centre, Raimondi College—and overshadowed by the towering apartment blocks of Robinson Road, it is no longer as well situated as it must have been when it first opened its doors, almost 133 years ago to the day.
The sense of enclosure is intensified by the building’s diminutive height of 27.3 metres and a central spire so low [10 meters] that one’s first reaction is to wonder if budgets ran out during its construction.
To put this into perspective, Cologne Cathedral is 157 metres high, Florence’s 114 metres, and the bell towers of St. Ignatius Cathedral in Shanghai soar heavenwards for 60 metres.
The Catholic Heritage website makes mitigating pleas. “The pointed arches on the outside reduce the feeling of oppressiveness from being enveloped by the outside,” it argues, not too convincingly. Far better to embrace what is. Tight, concrete spaces are the expression of Hong Kong; let us not be surprised by, or apologise for, a cathedral that reflects who we are.
Advent is the perfect time to visit a place of worship dedicated to the Immaculate Conception. This is, after all, a pregnant, expectant season—with its focus on the Nativity and the start of the new Church year. When Mass is done, take some time to enjoy the building’s neo-Gothic interior and quirky features. To help you with that, here a list of things you might not have known about Hong Kong’s tiny but perfectly formed Catholic cathedral.
1. That little driveway actually has a name
You won’t find a street sign, but the short stretch of tarmac that leads up to the cathedral entrance is called St. Joseph’s Terrace. Don’t believe me? Check Google Maps. The name preserves the memory of the 19th century St. Joseph’s Building and another structure, also called St. Joseph’s Terrace, that provided clerical accommodation and formed part of the old St. Joseph’s School. The Robinson Heights residential development stands on the site now.
2. The locality has always been multicultural
Hong Kong’s first Catholic church was built on the corner of Wellington and Pottinger Streets in 1843, beginning life as the Chapel of the Conception before being upgraded in subsequent rebuilding projects in 1852 and, after the “Great Fire of Hong Kong,” in 1860. According to a 22 June 1843 report in the Friend of China newspaper, “about 100 people attended the first service,” including Africans and “Bengalis, Madrassis and Chinese.” There were soldiers from an Irish regiment, as well as “sepoys and native artillerymen” and
“Portuguese, Italian and other foreign seamen.” With the mix of nationalities living in the Mid-Levels today, Mass at the present cathedral is an equally diverse experience.
3. You can see connections between the old church and the present building
Want to peek at a piece of history? In three of the cathedral’s four chapels—the Sacred Heart Chapel, the Passion Chapel and the St. Joseph’s Chapel—the altars come from the original Wellington Street church. The laying of the old church’s foundation stone was meanwhile overseen by Hong Kong’s first prefect apostolic, the young Swiss cleric, Theodore Joset. He sadly died of a fever two months after the church opened its doors, aged just 38, and his remains are buried behind the present cathedral’s Grand Altar.
4. Despite appearances, the cathedral doesn’t actually have a pipe organ
You hear those sweeping chords and fugues during Sunday Mass, look up at the balcony and see that impressive array of gleaming silver pipes, thinking how nothing can compare to the majesty of a handcrafted analogue instrument. But unfortunately that’s no pipe organ. “Only pipes of a pipe organ on the balcony remain. The musical instrument is replaced by an electronic organ, showing the strength of revolution triggered by modern technology,” says the Catholic Heritage website, without a hint of remorse.
5. The neighbouring Canossian school was a refugee centre during World War II
At their convent next door to the cathedral, sisters of the Daughters of Charity of the Canossian Institute housed, cared for and educated foreign children stranded in Hong Kong during the Japanese Occupation.
In his 2019 memoir Lost in the Battle for Hong Kong, Bob Tatz, a wartime orphan in the bombed out city, recalls how he was taken in and received schooling from Mother Maria Riva, who “was very patient.”
He learned painting and music from Mother Wilhelmina and “discovered my own artistic skills.” Mother Rosetta gave him regular pocket money, which he spent at a barber shop on Caine Road and in the convent gift store. “She was like a real mother to all of us,” Tatz writes.
He eventually became an altar boy, “assisting Bishop Valtorta at Mass in the Catholic Cathedral,” as well as at a memorable ordination ceremony on 6 November 1942, involving several members of the Dominican order who received the tonsure.
