Zhong Wen: Matteo Ricci was a figure of profound influence. On December 17, 2022—on the 86th birthday of Pope Francis—the Pope signed the decree recognizing Ricci’s “heroic virtues,” granting him the title of Venerable. Ricci’s importance for many Chinese even exceeds his significance within the small Catholic community. Long before the traumatic experience of 19th–20th century colonialism damaged Sino-Western relations, Ricci achieved a rare moment of equal cultural encounter between China and the West.

Bo Ya: Many Chinese today see Christianity as a “foreign religion,” even “imperialist aggression,” precisely because of that “19th–20th century colonial trauma.”

Zhong Wen: Before that, in the sixteenth century, some Westerners arriving in East Asia had indeed dreamt of repeating in China or Japan the military-conquest model they used in South America or the Philippines. But most soon realized that such a model would not work in Japan or China.

The Jesuits in particular learned from the experiences of St. Francis Xavier and his companions, who had arrived in Japan in 1549. They succeeded in converting feudal lords and quickly won many followers—but the faith never deeply rooted itself in Japanese social structures.

The Jesuit Visitor responsible for all East Asia, Alessandro Valignano, realized that Christianity would thrive only if it first took root in Asian cultures. He believed Christianity must immerse itself in local culture, instead of preaching through minimally trained local catechists as was done elsewhere. It was on this rock, he believed, that the foundation for evangelization must be laid.

Thus he designed a rigorous curriculum in philosophy and theology for young Japanese Jesuits, tailored to their cultural context.

Valignano also wanted to advance Xavier’s earlier plan. To this end he ordered Ricci and another newly arrived Jesuit, Michele Ruggieri, to master the Chinese language. This sounds obvious today, but at the time many missionaries considered learning the local language a waste of time and were satisfied with only the rudiments.

Bo Ya: Clearly, that was the arrogance and prejudice of European colonizers.

Zhong Wen: Ruggieri accompanied Portuguese merchants from Macau to Guangzhou on short business trips, but he was required to return immediately, as foreigners were not allowed to reside in China. Yet despite this prohibition, the governors of Guangdong and Guangxi made an exception: they permitted the Jesuits to live in the city of Zhaoqing and practice their religious life, thinking it was a form of Buddhism.

Exotic gifts brought by the Jesuits—such as clocks and musical instruments—played an important role in persuading officials, as did the friendship they formed with the magistrate of Zhaoqing. His approval marked a major breakthrough.

Bo Ya: This shows that in late-Ming China, there still existed a significant space for local autonomy.

Zhong Wen: For any Westerner, learning Chinese was no simple task. When Ruggieri and Ricci began, there were no manuals or textbooks. The first thing they did was write a dictionary for themselves.

They soon realized that learning only the common language was not enough. To communicate effectively with the educated elite—upon whom the future success of Christianity in China depended—they needed extraordinary linguistic proficiency. Ruggieri and Ricci had to set aside their dreams of rapid evangelization and abandon the idea of building large churches filled with hundreds of converts.

Instead, they devoted themselves to reading Chinese classics, trying to understand Confucianism, especially the Four Books, the core of Chinese culture, and began translating them into Latin. In the process, they found that ancient Chinese texts already contained the notion of a divine being. More controversially, they came to believe that the Chinese term Shangdi—the Sovereign on High—was the appropriate expression for God in Chinese.

Bo Ya: This remains a highly controversial issue today, and I believe linguistic limits may make it unsolvable forever.

Zhong Wen: Valignano instructed Ricci to write a catechism that would include passages from the Chinese classics. Ricci undertook this task with great passion, investing years of difficult work. After a decade of studying Chinese texts and conversing with Confucian scholars—who also helped him—Ricci published The True Meaning of the Lord of Heaven (Tianzhu Shiyi) in 1603. In it, he argued that the Christian God—Tianzhu—is the same as the Shangdi of ancient Chinese classics.

This was indeed controversial. Ricci understood that to speak of Christianity in terms intelligible to the Chinese required linguistic and cultural mediation and that translation always involved risk. Some missionaries refused such risk entirely, insisting on the Latin Deus and translating it into Chinese as “Dou-si.”

Ricci’s acceptance of Shangdi was based on careful study of Chinese texts, not on resignation to local culture, nor on an attempt to manipulate Chinese language from within to impose a foreign religious meaning.

Bo Ya: Translating “God” as “Dou-si” is obviously impossible. Why not directly use “Yahweh” or “Jehovah”?

Zhong Wen: Many scholars evaluating Ricci’s interactions with Chinese literati interpret these exchanges too rigidly. They fail to notice that both sides changed through dialogue. Ricci himself was transformed through these encounters.

Bo Ya: Ricci did not realize that this transformation might itself be a kind of “Christian alienation.”

Zhong Wen: Through his writings we see how open he was to learning this new culture and sharing it. In his memoirs written toward the end of his life, Ricci reviewed his long and adventurous journey from South China to Beijing and shared everything he had learned along the way.

He marveled at the advanced nature of Beijing’s administration. He praised the civil examination system that distributed public office fairly—while Europe still relied on hereditary privilege or the purchase of offices. He was astonished by the social order he found in China, while Europe was torn by war. We can see how far Ricci moved beyond Eurocentrism and enriched himself through these discoveries.

In the spring of 1600, Ricci traveled north from Nanjing to Beijing with gifts for the emperor. The journey was dangerous. He was detained for five months in Tianjin, and only when the emperor heard that a foreigner brought him gifts was Ricci allowed to proceed. On January 25, 1601, Ricci presented his gifts and a written tribute before the empty imperial throne.

The emperor and his consorts were fascinated—especially by the two clocks, whose hourly chimes amazed them. Because these clocks required complex maintenance, Ricci was allowed to remain in Beijing to keep them in good condition.

Bo Ya: To me, Ricci was tragic. He had no idea that he and the other Jesuits had stepped into court politics—leading eventually to their downfall.

Zhong Wen: Ricci also brought extensive scientific knowledge, which the Ming scholars greatly admired. In many respects, his science was far more advanced, but he never used it with arrogance, nor did he hide knowledge to show superiority. Instead, he freely taught the many Chinese who visited him. He spent years teaching geometry to a student—Xu Guangqi—and together they translated Euclid’s Elements.

In Beijing, Ricci became especially busy every three years, when hundreds of exam candidates visited him. They asked him about world maps, about calculating eclipses, and occasionally theological questions. Ricci wrote that he often had no time for lunch and was forced to fast, but he never tired of explaining everything.

Bo Ya: Ricci was fully aware that adapting Christianity to China—and adapting China to Christianity—would take immense time. Most crucially, he deliberately “hid the Cross”: he avoided discussing Christ’s Passion and Resurrection for fear of frightening listeners. He forgot—or never understood—that Christianity begins with repentance and acknowledgement of human sinfulness—the very force that allowed European society and science to keep progressing.

Zhong Wen: Some missionaries criticized him for this, but Ricci preferred to wait until people were ready. For those who were ready, he freely discussed these mysteries and gave them catechetical materials. Ricci’s patient method reflected his respect for local culture.

Bo Ya: But clearly this approach was a double-edged sword, weakening certain essential aspects of Christianity.

Zhong Wen: China’s influence on Ricci is undeniable. He had to reshape his identity—as a Westerner, a Jesuit missionary, and a priest. He was sent by the Jesuits, kept regular correspondence with Valignano and Rome, and received guidance, new missionaries, funding, and books. He also wrote to family, teachers, fellow Jesuits, and friends in Europe. Letters took two years to arrive and often were lost; only fifty-four survive today.

Living in isolation nearly 2000 km from Macau, often suspected of being a foreign spy, Ricci quickly realized he needed Chinese friends for protection. He built a network of relationships to avoid being misunderstood or exploited.

Another issue involved his religious identity. From the beginning, Jesuits made clear they had not come for trade or worldly goals but to spread the faith.

Bo Ya: Though initially Catholicism borrowed Buddhist forms, the resemblance between the two religions is undeniable, likely a cultural legacy from their transmission through Central Asia.

Zhong Wen: From today’s standpoint, Ricci did not truly understand Buddhism. He inherited prejudices from his companions in Japan, believing Buddhism to be either idolatrous or atheistic. Rejecting any association with it—perhaps influenced by Confucian literati—Ricci developed harsh attitudes toward Buddhist monks and Daoists.

Bo Ya: Ricci’s rejection of Buddhism might not stem from misunderstanding but rather strategic necessity—discarding the ladder after climbing over the wall, because Buddhism hindered his progress in a Ming society where it was already in decline.

Zhong Wen: In 1595 Ricci left Guangdong, where he had lived for twelve years, and moved to Jiangxi. Along the way he changed his social identity, abandoning Buddhist robes and adopting the silk garments and four-cornered hat of Confucian scholars. At this time he also grew the long beard seen in his portraits. This bold decision was approved by Valignano, and it signified Ricci’s deeper entry into Confucian life—a world where the boundary between sacred and secular differed greatly from the West. The sacred could be found within the secular, manifested in human relationships governed by Confucian ritual.

Bo Ya: This was the strategy of “replacing Buddhism with Confucianism,” ultimately “uniting with Confucianism to reject Buddhism.”

Zhong Wen: It was in this context that Ricci began to understand the meaning of ancestral rites. He believed Chinese did not worship idols with supernatural power before ancestral tablets, but expressed their connection to those who had given them life, culture, and moral norms. Later, after Ricci’s death, this issue—known as the “Chinese Rites Controversy”—became a major conflict.

Ricci once wrote that China was not yet ready for harvest, not even for sowing—it was still the time for clearing the trees. In another place he said that success should not be judged by the number of converts, but by whether a firm foundation was laid for a great future undertaking.

Bo Ya: Though many praise Ricci, I must say bluntly: the foundation he laid for Christianity in China was not solid—for he hid the crucifixion of Christ and refused to show the blood of Jesus to pagans.

Zhong Wen: After Ricci’s death in 1610, his ideas and methods were repeatedly criticized and reassessed—especially during the Chinese Rites Controversy, when some European missionaries in China vehemently opposed Ricci’s approach.

The conflict lasted decades. In 1704, the Pope condemned Confucian and ancestral rites as superstition, and from then on forbade their use in the Chinese Catholic Church. This angered the Qing court, which tightened control over Christianity and eventually banned it. Yet many Chinese Catholics remained faithful, practicing cautiously.

Bo Ya: It was not until 1939, when Pope Pius XII—lost in the shadow of World War II—again permitted Catholics to participate in Chinese ancestral rituals. Later, Vatican II reaffirmed the importance of local cultures in Christian missions. Thus Ricci came back into favor and is now hailed as a model of “cultural accommodation.”