Protestants and Catholics represent a small part of Taiwan’s population, yet they have contributed some interesting pieces of architecture to the island.

BY STEVEN CROOK

Organized Christianity has been present in Taiwan since at least May 1626, when six Spanish Dominicans set up base on a small island near what is now the entrance to Keelung Harbor.

Efforts to convert Taiwan’s aboriginal inhabitants, and later Han Chinese settlers and their descendants, have had mixed success. Christianity is certainly accepted as part of the country’s religious landscape, yet no more than one in 20 Taiwanese is Protestant or Catholic.

Observers of religious life in Taiwan often contrast the situation here with that of South Korea, where it is estimated that Christians make up at least 26% of the population (some estimates put it as high as 49%). But Taiwan, it can be argued, is far richer when it comes to interesting, attractive, and historical church buildings.

It is easy to overlook these chapels, basilicas, and mission houses. Folk temples are so numerous, so colorful, and so noisy they tend to grab one’s attention. Yet among Taiwan’s churches are buildings designed by world-famous architects, naves rich in local art, and even some intriguing examples of stained glass.

From the late nineteenth century onward, Western missionaries in Taiwan such as George L. Mackay, James L. Maxwell, and Thomas Barclay were financially backed by co-religionists in their home countries. Some missionaries used this funding to purchase plots of land in locations that today would be unimaginably expensive, or reserved for government use.

Taipei’s Chi-nan Presbyterian Church (濟南路基督長老教會), which faces Zhongshan South Road right beside the Legislative Yuan, is a prime example. Designed by Moli Yamasi of Japan and completed in 1916 for the use of students and faculty at nearby Taihoku University (now National Taiwan University’s Medical College), this building is something of a pastiche – inspired by English country churches, but built of red brick rather than stone.

If you step inside, you’ll see a surprising amount of wood, much of which was torn out and replaced this spring. Renovation work should be finished and the church opened again by mid-summer. The church’s address is 3 JiNan Road.

Another Presbyterian church in Taipei has a short but thoroughly tragic history. The Gi-Kong Church (義光教會), within walking distance of the Weekend Flower Market, was the scene of one of Taiwan’s most notorious unsolved crimes. It was in this five-story residential building on February 28, 1980 that the mother and twin daughters of dissident politician Lin Yi-hsiung were murdered while Lin was in jail following the previous December’s “Kaohsiung Incident.”

In 2007, the only survivor of the attack published an account of how the church came to be founded. Judy Linton, as she has been known since marrying an American pastor, is Lin's eldest daughter. “The site of Gi-Kong Church was my old childhood home,” she recalled. “It is actually the only home I remember as a child. It is the setting for many of my happy childhood memories. It is also the same place where I was stabbed six times and left to die, and where my sisters and grandmother were murdered 27 years ago.”

No one was ever indicted in relation to the killings, but many are convinced they were ordered by someone connected with the security apparatus – “especially since the assassinations took place when my home was under 24-hour police surveillance,” Linton noted.

While Lin Yi-hsiung was in prison, Presbyterian supporters of the family decided to purchase the home and convert it into a church as a way of helping Judy and her mother start new lives in the United States. “Gi-kong” is the Taiwanese pronunciation of the church’s name, which means “righteousness” and “justice.” It was established on Easter Sunday 1982, and the first pastor was a former political prisoner.

There is little to be seen here, however. Outside a large plaque explains the church’s history. It is possible to peer in through the glass doors and see a cross, a lectern, and enough pews for about 70 people. The church’s address is No. 16, Lane 31, XinYi Road, Section 3.

Stress on simplicity

The simplicity of the Gi-Kong Church has little to do with its background or its relative newness. Rather, it is a reflection of the brand of Christianity preached here, says David Alexander, an assistant to the president of Tainan Theological College, a Presbyterian seminary.

“Protestant architecture in Taiwan is not at all interesting. It's flat-out functional,” remarks the American, who has served in Taiwan since 1976. “However, in terms of decoration, sometimes some interesting things are done.”

“Protestantism in Taiwan is basically Zwinglian,” he says. Huldrych Zwingli (1484-1531), the Swiss theologian and Reformation leader, believed churches should be austere – even bare.

“What matters is what we say, not what we look like,” Alexander explains, before going on to say that Taiwan also has some visually arresting Protestant churches, such as a small one in Linzinei, in the northeastern corner of Tainan County. When the ceiling of that church was removed so air-conditioning could be installed, the original wooden beams were exposed. The congregation found these visually appealing, and recently decided not to replace the ceiling.

Tainan Theological College was founded in 1876, but the oldest surviving building on the campus is a two-story block dating from 1902. Just south of Xinlou Street, this brick-and-mortar building includes the college’s original chapel.

Since 1957, the college has used a much larger sacral building. Known as College Church, it is – true to Alexander’s observations – extremely simple within and without. What little color there is comes from the three British-made stained-glass windows behind the altar.

A plaque inside states that the church was paid for by the Nanking Theological Seminary Board of Founders, a U.S.-based missionary fund unable to fulfil its original purpose after the Communist takeover of mainland China. In terms of design, it is based on the chapel of Westminster College in the English city of Cambridge.

At the very center of the Tainan campus, visitors can see the front porch of a house, all that remains of the place where Thomas Barclay, the college’s founder, lived until his death in 1936. (Alexander stayed here briefly in July 1977 after the student dormitory he was then staying in lost its roof in a typhoon). Currently nothing marks the historical significance of the spot or the ruins.

In keeping with the Presbyterian Church’s reputation for localization and pro-independence politics, each of the stone tables near the chapel has been shaped to resemble the island of Taiwan.

If you travel around Taiwan, you may well see churches that look as though they are intended to overshadow other religions' places of worship. The Presbyterian Church in Xingang in Chiayi County is one such landmark. It is close to but much taller than the town’s Fengtian Temple, a 270-year-old shrine dedicated to Mazu, the Goddess of the Sea and a key figure in local folk religion.

Such buildings may not necessarily be grand statements, Alexander points out, but rather a way of getting the most out of a small piece of land. “Sometimes building or rebuilding is done because a church has the money,” says Alexander. “Sometimes it’s done, not because the congregation has outgrown the current building, but because the church hopes to grow.” Nevertheless, he thinks that Taiwan's Christians are just as likely to suffer from what he calls “edifice complex” as the island’s Buddhists and Taoists.

China-born American architect I.M. Pei (貝聿銘) and his German counterpart Gottfried Boehm have enjoyed international renown in recent decades. Both are known to Taiwanese architecture aficionados largely because of the local churches they designed in the 1950s. Interestingly, neither Pei nor Boehm – who won the Pritzker Prize in 1986 – visited Taiwan until many years after their buildings were completed.

Pei’s Luce Memorial Chapel (路思義教堂) stands on the grounds of Tunghai University in Taichung City. Tunghai was established in 1955 to carry on the traditions of Christian universities in China that closed after the Communist takeover.

Luce Chapel is named after Rev. Henry W. Luce, an American missionary in China and father of Henry R. Luce, the co-founder of TIME magazine. Nearly 20 meters high, it resembles a shiny concrete tent, or the upturned keel of a boat. Inside, a diamond-shaped frame supports the roof. The campus’s address is 181 Taizhonggang Road, Section 3, Xitun District. Free shuttle buses connect the campus with Taichung’s high-speed railway station.

Boehm’s contribution to ecclesiastical architecture is less well known, partly because of its remote location. His Saint Cross Church (聖十字架堂) is in Jingliao Village in Tainan County’s Houbi Township (台南縣後壁鄉菁寮村).

If you can find the village, you cannot miss the church. The spire is an alloy-covered pyramid much higher than – and in terms of color quite different from – anything else in the village, which itself is surrounded by flat agricultural land.

Even a cathedral

Unlike the Protestant places of worship in Taiwan, many of the Roman Catholic churches resemble Taoist temples, with thick vermillion columns and roofs covered with glazed green tiles common to both. There are exceptions, of course. The Catholic church on the corner of Hsinchu City's Beida and Zhongzheng Roads is emphatically Western in appearance. And while Taiwan’s only Catholic cathedral, the Holy Rosary Cathedral (玫瑰聖母主教座堂) in Kaohsiung, might lack the crypts and sarcophagi that can be found in old European churches, externally it shows both Gothic and Romanesque influence.

There are stained-glass windows featuring doves and roses. The vestibule is tiny. Inside the nave you will see confession boxes, the 14 Stations of the Cross, and a traditional pulpit and chancel.

The cathedral is the seat of the Archbishop of Taiwan. First established in 1860, it was rebuilt to its present dimensions in 1928. The cathedral is just east of the Love River at 151 Wufu 3rd Road. Masses are held daily, with English mass celebrated at 10:30 a.m. every Sunday.

Officially the cathedral is open to visitors from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday to Saturday. However, at other times it is often possible to take a discreet look inside. Visitors are requested to be quiet, respectful in terms of clothing, and to turn off their cell phones. The congregation is very international if the pamphlets on display are anything to go by. Among the languages are Chinese, English, Vietnamese, Tagalog, and Burmese.

Taiwan’s indigenous people are the most Christianized segment of the population, and have several tribes renowned for their woodcarving and other artistic skills. It is hardly surprising then that several churches in aboriginal districts are among the island’s most attractive.

The most special aboriginal church in southern Taiwan is perhaps Shenshan Roman Catholic Church (神山天主堂) in Pingtung County’s Wutai Township (屏東縣霧臺鄉).

Located a few meters from Highway 24, beyond the police checkpoint above Sandimen where outsiders have to stop and obtain mountain-entry permits, Shenshan is a tiny hamlet inhabited by members of the Rukai tribe.

Like most other buildings here, the church has a low roof and walls made of concrete and local slate. The feature that gets tourists and photographers excited lies within – row upon row of handcarved wooden chairs, each one made to resemble a tribesman in traditional garb.

A few kilometers further into the mountains, the village that lends its name to the township is dominated by a Presbyterian Church almost as big as the Holy Rosary Cathedral in Kaohsiung. Again, most of the structure is concrete, but slate and wood (including a large crucifix made of two varnished tree trunks) are what give it character.

In northern Taiwan, a renowned aboriginal stone church is located in an Atayal district of Taoyuan County's Sanmin Township (桃園縣三民鄉). Tuba Church (基國派老教堂) has not been used for its original purpose for more than a decade because the congregation grew beyond its capacity, but its design still draws plaudits from architects and cultural heavyweights.

Not all aboriginal churches are destined to be tourist attractions. One in this category is a hut that serves as a Presbyterian chapel in Xiameiyuan (下梅園) in Taroko National Park. Its significance becomes apparent if you take a look around this village of fewer than 100 people.

The settlement – which is off the main road and very much off the tourist trail – has no clinic, no school, no police station or community center, no shops, nor even a proper road connecting it with the outside world. The place of worship may be makeshift, and perhaps even a little shabby, but it does show how deep-rooted this imported religion has become.