When my wife and I were in Beijing in 2012, we visited a small memorial and museum dedicated to one of China's most famous and beloved novelists, Lao She.

Tucked away in the small alleys of old Beijing, the memorial was his residence starting in 1950. Almost as soon as one departs from the mundane and chaotic world of Beijing's alleys and crosses the threshold into his former habitat, one can sense that this is a sacred place, a place for reverence and remembering.

Part of that sense comes from the attitude conveyed by the staff working or volunteering there. One man in particular, the main caretaker I think, had a spirit about him and his work that made this visit unlike any other visit I've made to memorials, residences, temples, and shrines in China.

He was not just doing a job there, but somehow serving a mission. He was more like an LDS temple president than a museum worker, and he was delighted to have two people asking golden questions that allowed him to share more.

At the memorial and in subsequent reading, we learned that Lao She was a member of a poor family in the Manchu minority that suffered and lost much as the Han majority overthrew Manchu rule in China in the founding of the Republic.

As he grew and matured, he was a patriot who spoke out against foreign intrusions in his own land. During the Second Sino-Japanese War (1937-45), he led an organization of writers in boldly speaking out against their invaders.

Later, after living in the U.S., he would return to China to add his strength to rebuild China as the Revolution was moving forward. Though loyal to China, in 1966, during the darkest days of the tragic Cultural Revolution, a foreign couple would interview him and quote him as saying something critical of the Party.

Hours after the published account was read and reported to authorities, Red Guard soldiers came to his home and beat him. According to some accounts, they destroyed some of his works and promised to return tomorrow to continue their vengeance for his alleged crime.

Feeling all was lost and not willing to bring any further shame upon himself and his household, he left and apparently drowned himself in nearby Taiping Lake that evening, August 24, 1966. Or perhaps he was "suicided" — helped along in the suicide.

It was a terrible time and a painful loss for the world.

Lao She was actually a Christian, though his belief in God and Christ has not been highly publicized by the Party here in China. His connection with Christianity is also a secret in Wikipedia and Britannica, though perhaps that missing fact will be added sometime soon.

Fortunately, China’s own Baidu. com has a biography of Lao She that acknowledges his belief in Christianity. Kudos! A good overview of his life recognizing his Christianity is available at the New World Encyclopedia, though that site is not fully reliable. In Ranbir Vohra's 1974 book, Lao She and the Chinese Revolution (Cambridge, MA: Harvard College, p. 13), we read a little about his conversion:

Frankly, it appears that little is known about his conversion and his private beliefs. It also seems unclear what role Christianity played in his life after his voluntary return to an officially atheist nation. But I'm pleased to count him as a Christian brother, secret or otherwise.

During the inspiring visit to Lao She's memorial, I resolved to not forget Lao She. Later I would purchase and read his most famous novel, Rickshaw Boy in English and also Mandarin (finished the English, over halfway through the Mandarin text). Brilliant, beautiful, and depressing.

His language is captivating and so effective, though I am surely still missing much of the power that is there. My experience with Rickshaw Boy has given me much to ponder.

By the way, I am using the translation by Howard Goldblatt, which should be the best one available. One popular early translation made radical and inappropriate changes in the story. If you have read a version with a happy ending, it was fake!

Since he converted to Christianity prior to writing Rickshaw Boy, I cannot help but wonder how Christianity influenced this work. While the story is highly depressing as we watch a noble, diligent, and wholesome young man face disasters and setbacks that lead him to give up hope and abandon his principles that seemed to do him no good.

Rickshaw Boy is about a young man named Xiangzi, which means “lucky son.” The Chinese title is Luoto Xiangzi or Camel Xiangzi, a reference to an early incident in his unlucky life. After diligently saving money to buy his own rickshaw in Beijing, Xiangzi and his rickshaw are seized by a group of soldiers and taken away to the north of Beijing. Xiangzi is able to escape and is able to take 3 camels with him as he flees.

Finding the camels actually is a stroke of luck that might have given him the capital needed to buy a new rickshaw. Unfortunately, he is perhaps too anxious to sell them and takes the first low offer he receives, fetching a price of 60 yuan, about 40 yuan short of the price of a rickshaw.

I see the events relating to the camels as a sign of divine intervention, a mysteriously “lucky” event that helped Xiangzi move forward. His lot was hard, but there was hope in the midst of trouble. Later, he encounters another blessing in finding an employer, Mr. Cao, who is a noble Confucian gentleman with kindness and high values.

Life looks good and Xiangzi is close to having enough cash to buy his own rickshaw again. Unfortunately, a corrupt detective who is tracking Mr. Cao threatens Xiangzi and takes the money he has been saving (all except the money from the camels, which had been entrusted to the master of a rickshaw rental house).

In this scene, though, there was evidence of hope. Mr. Cao, spooked by the presence of a detective tracking him and knowing that he had a political enemy, gave Xiangzi instructions on how to go back home, warn his family, and help them rapidly escape before the threat of arrest could come.

Mr. Cao told Xiangzi that if he suffered any loss in this matter, then he would make it up to him. Xiangzi, though, after being intimidated by the detective, fails to stay true to his commission and flees, as instructed by the detective.

The detective tells Xiangzi that it is no use looking out for the Caos and needs to just think of himself and his own well being. By the time his conscience leads him to come back to the Cao family home, he is too late, and the Caos have fled to some other city.

Had he been less selfish, less focused on himself and more on his duty, Mr. Cao apparently would have helped Xiangzi and reimbursed him for the loss from the detective’s theft. A means for delivery had been provided, but Xiangzi failed in his moral duty and, in my opinion, was unable to receive the blessing prepared for him.

Later, Xiangzi faces further disasters, but also further blessings and, with each disaster, opportunities for escape, if only he would stick to his morals or seek advice from others.

His failure to get outside opinions on his difficulties and his lack of connection to others, due to his selfish focus on his own needs, resulted in much unnecessary loss, including being tricked into a terribly unhappy marriage by a girl who had seduced him and then pretended to be pregnant.

Getting advice from almost anyone else could have helped him deal with this problem with less pain.

Some see Rickshaw Boy as a depressing story that points to the hopelessness of the poor, even those who are able to work with great diligence and energy. Others see it as a message supporting the claims of socialism and the futility of individualism. The closing paragraph seems to emphasize that point:

Xiangzi had been a victim of a sick society and of external evil, suffering theft from soldiers and a detective, abuse from his employers, deception from a woman, and other wrongs. But none of these wrongs were so devastating as to end all hope or leave him with no recourse but abandonment of principles. It was selfishness that ended his hopes most fully.

His victimhood from outside forces is symbolized, in my opinion, by the scar on his head that he received as a boy. While he was napping, a donkey bit him, leaving a scar that ran from his cheekbone to his right ear.

He was marked for misfortune, it seems, and when things got worse for him, his scar became more visible and finally becoming “spidered” with wrinkles during the difficult time living with the wife he despised, the one who tricked him into marriage.

The scar on his cheek also helped the detective recognize Xiangzi as his former conscripted colleague in the group of soldiers that took his rickshaw, making it easier to extort Xiangzi.

Perhaps the scar symbolizes the unavoidable impact of external factors that can destroy that which is material, but it was his entire countenance that changed for the worse when he abandoned principles. Xiangzi’s scar reminds me of the scars Christ received, a symbol of what He suffered at the hands of others, and what He conquered in the end. We cannot avoid scars and injury, but we can choose how we react.

When Xiangzi made the decision to abandon his principles and give up goodness, he blamed goodness itself for his trouble:

Goodness was not the problem. It was selfishness and despair.

Shortly before this tragic turn in his attitudes and values, he demonstrated the ability to overcome the selfishness and materialism that had fueled his single-minded quest to save money to buy a rickshaw, a quest that is even called his “religion.”

The young man who would never waste money or give it away felt a wave of compassion in the presence of a decrepit old rickshaw man who came into a tea house seeking a few minutes of reprieve from the bitter cold of the Beijing winter. Responding to those feelings, Xiangzi ran out to buy the man a dozen hot buns to give him and his young grandson a meal.

It was the best he had felt. That event reminds us that he had potential to grow, to life others and himself, in spite of setbacks. That experience was a moment of grace, both for him and the man and child he served.

Another example of grace being offered was his encounter with Mr. Cao after his fall. He resolved to be better, and dared to face him. He was greeted with warmth and given a second chance. The girl of his dreams, whom he had deserted earlier in order to save enough money for marriage, was a topic of the discussion and Mr. Cao offered a job for her as well and a place to stay.

The goodness of Mr. Cao and his mercy may be a symbol of God’s love and enduring grace.

In going to meet Mr. Cao, his former employer, the recently fallen Xiangzi was penitent and resolved to abandon his evil ways and return to the virtuous person he once was. He said: “Please, Mr. Cao, be there, don’t let me come up empty.... Heaven won’t desert Xiangzi, now that he’s turned his life around, will it?”

It was a prayer that was answered, but in a complex way. Mr. Cao would be there and would be as gracious as anyone could hope for. The final challenge Xiangzi had to face, however, was to show that his resolution to change was real, even when faced with the devastating news that the girl he wanted to marry was dead.

He failed that challenge, and sank even lower than before. But he had a choice and the opportunity to change and improve, in spite of sorrows.

Suddenly there was hope, and Xiangzi rushed out to find the girl he had neglected. Tragically, he learned that she had been forced into prostitution and had committed suicide. With this final blow, Xiangzi rejected the grace offered him, abandoned his repentance, and plunged to new depths, never to return.

When he previously rejected or walked away from the girl he loved, he focused on his own goals and needs foremost. His selfishness interfered with the chance he could have had to save her and live happily with her, with kind assistance from Mr. Cao.

The major setbacks in Xiangzi’s life were balanced with lucky events such as finding camels or again encountering Mr. Cao, events that had the potential to give him renewed hope, if only he would adhere to virtuous principles and endure. The real tragedy was his abandonment of virtue in the face of trouble. The real enemy was his own selfishness.

One speaker in the novel equates rickshaw men with a grasshopper tied to a string. When grasshoppers join together in a great mass, they can become unstoppable and devour all crops in their way, yet when tied to a string, an individual grasshopper achieves nothing. Their powerful wings have no value when tied down.

The need for unity and cooperation among the rickshaw men to improve their lot is one that many of them recognize, but none have the faith or knowledge needed to take action. Xiangzi takes a step in that direction not by agitating for reforms but by sharing to help a needy brother, and it makes him feel better than he had ever felt.

One of the most important Christian objectives that I think may be found in Lao She’s book is making society aware of the challenges of poverty among the workers in our own midst.

China and all nations still have numerous rickshaw boys pursuing other endeavors: today’s rickshaw boys may be cabbies, factory workers, peddlers of food and cheap goods on the street, and others who work long hours with little compensation. Rickshaw Boy does much to bring their sorrows and hopes to light, that the rest of us might be able to show more compassion.

It is not an overtly Christian book, but as Christians, we can learn much from it. Though it is rife with sorrow, we can learn from Xiangzi’s mistakes and realize that there may be grace and hope extended to us even in times of trouble. And I hope we will all learn to better grasp the plight of the poor and do what we can to offer hope and mercy to those in distress.