From Hero to Zero    return to top
January 7, 2006 / Number 172.

Last week I read the top ten stories of 2005. These ten national and world stories were selected by Associated Press members. The number one story was Hurricane Katrina. I agree. That was one big story. The following nine were: 2. Papal transition, 3. Iraq, 4. U.S. Supreme Court, 5. Oil Prices, 6. London Bombings, 7. Asian Earthquake, 8. Terry Schiavo, 9. CIA Leak, and 10. Bush Struggles. This is the view of American news reporters.

Do you notice anything missing? Where is the single news event that is obsessing all of Korea? I didn’t see any mention of stem cell research. How can this be? And why can’t I find mention of the famous Hwang Woo-suk? The omission of this story might surprise readers of Korean newspapers. Throughout most of 2005 Korean newspapers were packed with details about a “cloned dog” and “lines of stem cells”. Hwang Woo-suk became a household name and a national hero. Then in December this hero fell to zero. He resigned his university position after experts determined he had faked all of his stem cell lines.

I continue to believe that the story of cloning in Korea is important to the world of science, but how did it come to dominate Korean news for an entire year? How odd to me that Koreans lost all sense of proportion. Every week, I would read a small article in the San Francisco Chronicle about Korean cloning. In contrast, my wife would read pages and pages day after day in the Korea Times. She would say out loud, “Cloning is all they write about in Korea. It makes up half of all the news!”

But now things have changed in Korea. First, breakthrough cloning that was the big news. Then fraud and disgrace dominated. Now the news has turned introspective: “How could such a thing happen?”, the newspapers are asking.

It think that the story begins with an intelligent, personable, and prideful scientist. The story grew when the science community uncritically closed ranks behind this outstanding researcher. The story expanded when the president established this favorite son as a symbol of national aspiration. The story exploded when the national media jumped on board worshiping a veterinarian as part Elvis Presley and part Albert Einstein. Somebody in Korea should have suspected something. When an athlete out-races everybody in world, we suspect doping. When a student out-paces all competitors on an entrance exam, we suspect cheating.

It think that the story ends with a humbled scientist –a humbled university, a humbled government, and a humbled media. The writer of Proverbs got it just right: “Pride goes before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall. Better it is to be of an humble spirit with the lowly, than to divide the spoil with the proud”. (Proverbs 16:18-19)

Poverty and Suffering    return to top
January 21, 2006 / Number 173.

Immediately after my arrival in Africa, I noticed the poverty. Traveling from the international airport into the countryside, I saw mud huts along dirt roads and barefoot children running between banana trees. Later we visited these same humble dwelling places. We talked with Africans who had no electricity, no plumbing, no telephone, and very little money. And yet, most of these poor people appeared to be genuinely happy. How could such a thing be? Isn’t poverty the same as suffering? If so, then how can suffering people be happy?

My meditation over the past several weeks has been twofold. First, what is the relationship between poverty and suffering? And second, what should be the Christian response to poverty and suffering? These are my conclusions.

First, sometimes poverty is the same as suffering. When you are cold or wet because you cannot afford a roof over your head then poverty equates to suffering. When you cannot acquire enough food to sustain you, or enough clothes to cover your body, then poverty equals suffering. Also when you cannot afford even the simplest medical treatment, then poverty means suffering. As a Christian, I should do all I can to alleviate this extreme poverty by providing emergency food, clothing, shelter, and medicine.

Second, poverty is relative while suffering is an absolute. One hundred years ago a Korean who owned one house, ten acres of rice fields, and five oxen was counted as rich. Today, this same person would be considered poor. The standard of poverty has shifted over the years. However, a person with a toothache today might suffer just as much as someone who suffered a toothache one hundred years ago. Pain is pain.

Third, most suffering that I encountered in East Africa was not due to poverty, but to the same set of human conditions that we find in America. There are dysfunctional families, abandoned widows, and the strong taking advantage of the weak. Of course, war, disease, and bad government have made these problems worse.

Fourth, poverty is a society-wide problem and calls for a system-wide solution. Africans must build their own roads, schools, and hospitals. Most importantly they must establish good governments. Americans can assist in this, but Africans must solve the problem of their own poverty. In contrast, suffering can be dealt with one person at a time. Love is the cure for suffering, and love can be delivered directly person to person.

This is my advice to first-time travelers to Africa: You are going to encounter many people who will ask for your money. Be sure to distinguish between the poor and the suffering. Use your limited resources to comfort the suffering. Sometimes that means providing them with money. Always that means sharing with them your love.

The Page of Tomorrow    return to top
February 4, 2006 / Number 174.

I have kept journals three times in my life. In fifth grade my older sister gave me a small diary for Christmas. The space for each daily entry was only a few lines long. I wrote faithfully for almost a year before moving on to other things. When I was in high school, my best friend and I agreed to start a diary on January first. This journal lasted over a year and was filled with teen-age angst and quest for identity.

While I was in Korea, I vowed to keep a daily journal of my activity. I kept this promise to myself. From November, 1972, to September, 1974, I wrote in my journal every single day writing down 1013 pages of life. As I re-read my pages, I marvel at my discipline. I don’t think that I could do that today. I look back at those journals as my companions and therapists.

I consider the 690 days I lived in Korea as the pivot experience of my life. When I reflect upon all that I have accomplished, I mentally place events as “before Korea” or “after Korea”. And of course the major event of this experience was meeting and marrying the love of my life. This momentous event happens in book four of six.

Last Monday there were seven aspiring writers meeting in our living room. Our facilitator was talking about journaling. I said, “let me share a bit from my journal”. I removed book four from its dusty spot in the closet and shared a portion of my pivot experience with members of our writing group.

I read the first few sentences and the last few sentences. One person paused and said, “That’s great. It sounds like the opening and closing of an epic novel”. I answered, “Thank you. Now all I need is the epic that fits between the first and last page.”

This is how page one begins: “November 28th, 1973. So this is book four. In one year I’ve filled three books with drivel. I hope the reader wasn’t bored with the past day-by-day narratives. I wish that I could peek ahead at the following pages as you may do. But for me all of the pages in this brand new book are empty. It’s beyond my imagination as to what lies ahead. Will I find new friends, new loves, new crises? God only knows. It will always remain impossible for me to turn to the next page and read of tomorrow. Well, I begin …”

The last page concludes: “Book number four of my life in Korea is now complete. I can now peek behind at all of the marvelous things that God has given to me in the past seventy-seven days. The inconceivable has happened in an incredibly short amount of time. At the beginning of this book, I knew her casually by the name ‘Miss Kim”. Now she is my wife. Lord, you have given me the desire of my heart. I see why my steps led me to this little town in Korea. I see and I praise your name. February 13th, 1974.”

After the writer’s meeting, I mediated upon my inability to turn the page of today and see what’s written on the page of tomorrow. On the next day, I received a check from our insurance company for $550. That was unexpected and welcome. On the following day, I broke a tooth and visited the dentist two times. Who could have guessed that a check would arrive on Monday and a tooth would break on Wednesday? Maybe that’s why Jesus tells us “Don’t worry so much about tomorrow. There will be enough things to worry about when tomorrow arrives”. That sounds right to me, but I can’t help but wonder, “Will tomorrow bring a cashiers check or a broken tooth?”

Knocking down a wall of separation    return to top
February 18, 2006 / Number 175.

A few Sundays ago I had the opportunity to preach a message to a group of Korean young people. The message was about the Samaritan woman whom Jesus met at the well. I was explaining the four walls of separation that Jesus demolished with his simple request “give me a drink.” The first wall that Jesus knocked down was gender – He spoke to a woman. The second wall was religion – he spoke to woman who worshiped on a mountaintop. The third wall was status – he spoke to an outcast, a woman living outside of marriage.

The fourth wall of separation was race. Jesus spoke to a mixed-race woman. The Jews despised the Samaritans more than any other group because of their mixed blood. The proud people of Judea could trace their ancestry back to Jacob, but the people of Samaria could not. About five hundred years before the time of Christ, conquering Assyrians forcibly mixed the people of Israel with inhabitants of neighboring nations.

As I was explaining this situation to teenagers, I reached back into my Korean vocabulary and found a word that I hadn’t spoken in a long time – the word was “twegi” [Half-breed]. Many of the young people were uncomfortable at this word and squirmed in their seats. Samaria was nation of “twegis” and was therefore scorned by pure-blooded Jews.

After the church service, the EM pastor apologized to me about the low attendance for my service. He reminded me that it was Super Bowl Sunday. Many regular church attendees, especially boys, were absent in order to join Super Bowl parties. I understood the situation replying that my own son was watching the big game with his friends.

The next morning, I picked up the Korean Times and couldn’t miss the banner headlines of the Super Bowl. I thought to myself, “This is unusual. American football does not typically warrant so much attention”. As I read more closely, I discovered that the Most Valuable Player of this game was identified as a “Korean”. I called to my son and said, “Did you know that Hines Ward was Korean?”. He was surprised and said, “You’re kidding. I didn’t know that”. My mixed-race son thought that he was Black with some unusual ancestry.

As I read more in the Korea Times, it became apparent that all this attention did not concern American football at all but was all about Korean pride. (If Willie Parker had won MVP, would Koreans have cared?) Just as Hwang Woo-suk was overthrown as a point of national pride, Hines Ward was being haled as “the first Korean to win a football MVP”. What is it in the Korean psyche that worships individuals who are “most valuable” on an international stage?

I was in Korea about the time Hines Ward was born. In 1976 there were many newborns in Korea that looked like this future MVP. Most of these Black mixed-race children were openly despised and many put up for adoption to the West. They were not claimed as “Korean” but insulted as “twegi”. Thirty years later, is this adoration of Hines Ward just another case of Korean hero worship? Or is Korea finally attaining the attitude of Christ, where mixed-race is not a barrier to full inclusion? It is probably just another case of hero worship, but I pray that Hines Ward is at the front of a long parade that includes all mixed-race Koreans and not just those who win impressive awards.

Drought and Famine    return to top
March 4, 2006 / Number 176.

I read it again in the newspaper. There is a famine in the horn of Africa. The news company Reuters reports, "Drought conditions across the Horn of Africa are likely to persist until at least early April, threatening further loss of life and livestock. At least one hundred people and tens of thousands of livestock have already died in East Africa due to a drought afflicting Kenya, Somalia, Ethiopia, Eritrea, Tanzania and Burundi." Western aid organizations are sending millions of dollars to combat this famine.

This time when I read the words, I am not only sad, but angry as well. My perspective has changed. I have come to recognize a distinction between drought and famine. "Drought" is a word that means "lack of rain". This is a natural event, an act of God if you will. "Famine" is word that means "lack of food". This is not a natural event, but a human event - a symptom of bad government.

I became aware of this distinction when I read about a serious drought in southeastern Oklahoma. Statistics show that this part of the United States receives an average of 51 inches of rainfall a year. The 24 inches of rain recorded in 2005 made it the driest since 1921. Today there is a persistent drought in mid-America, but there is no famine. Nobody is dying from malnutrition. The same is true for Europe, which experienced a very dry summer. People used to die in Europe due to drought and famine, but no more. Why is this? I think the answer is good government.

My frequent visits to Africa have opened my eyes to the waste and corruption that exists in most African governments. The ruling party in Nairobi, Kenya, operates a fleet of one hundred official limousines. These government cars never seem to run out of gas as they drive around the capitol city. But there are no asphalt roads that lead north into the drought-stricken areas. Why have they never been built? Nairobi is also headquarters to dozens of aid organizations, yet within a few hundred miles, people are dying for lack of aid. How can so many aid-workers accomplish so little?

I don't have a solution to this famine problem. When I see people starving, my impulse is to send them aid. Suffering is still suffering whether the victim lives in a country with good government or bad government. And yet, western nations must hold drought-stricken nations accountable for their own famines. This cycle of drought and famine is no surprise to this part of the world. It happens as regular as clockwork.

Of course the most dramatic example of the tie between drought and famine occurs on the Korean peninsula. This is a small geographic area. The climate of the north is not significantly different than the south. But look at the difference. A British group called Anti-Slavery International reports that "famine in North Korea has had a destructive impact on North Korean children. About 40,000 North Korean children die of malnutrition every year." I once heard that all the starving children of North Korean would be well nourished by the food that Seoul restaurants toss into garbage cans everyday.

It breaks my heart that so many people in the world are suffering from malnutrition. The short-term solution may be to send in aid, but the long-term solution is to reform governments.

From Corn Leaves to Water Spray  return to top
March 25, 2006 / Number 177.

When I traveled to Korea in 1984, my wife and two sons accompanied me. I wanted to preserve this memory so I bought an expensive video camera. My younger son, Simon, celebrated his seventh birthday in Seoul and we have video of his party to prove it.

At Kimpo airport just before returning to America, I was documenting our last steps in Korea. For the record, I asked the two boys, “What was your favorite part of the Korean experience?”. Both responded, “We liked all the gifts from grandmother”. I then asked them, “And what was the worst part of your experience?” My older son, Zachary, said “My cousin’s toilet”. The younger son added, “Yeah, that place was stinky.”

I was half-way expecting this answer. I remember when we first arrived at my sister-in-law’s house. In the middle of a conversation sitting on the floor, Simon tapped me on the shoulder. He asked me to follow him. I excused myself and followed him out the sliding paper doors, across the court yard and into the concrete toilet. He asked me how to use it. My poor son had never squatted over a hole before. I told him how it worked and gave him some toilet paper. He adjusted just fine, but there were a lot of comments after that.

One time Zachary was joking about his cousin. Zachary couldn’t believe that anyone could squat for 30 minutes over a toilet and read a comic book. I responded that at least he had paper on a roll. I told him that when I first came to Korea, we were using the Chosan Newspaper. One of the older aunts then talked about using corn leaves in her younger days. My son appeared more disgusted than impressed.

I bring all this up because of a recent conversation with my wife. She had just returned from Korea after a ten year absence I asked her about the week-long vacation. After commenting about all the people she met and the places she visited, she added “and we just have to get one of those Korean toilets”.

I said slyly, “You mean you want me to dig a pit in the floor of our bathroom”. “No” she said. “Everywhere I went in Korea; everyplace there was the nice toilet that washed off your bottom with warm water when you were done with your business”. She said that even the rest stops along the highways installed these friendly toilets. She picked up a Korean newspaper and put it up to my face. “Like this one”, she said. I don’t know if I’m quite up to it, but I think that I am about to evolve into this next level of toilet care.

This means of personal hygiene is called a “bidet” in English. I remember seeing bidets in France, but haven’t seen them in America. I’ve always considered them un-American and too “girley” for my tastes. I think that if Simon and I traveled to Seoul together at this time , I’d have to tap him on the shoulder and ask him, “and how do you use this toilet?”

Sometimes I marvel at how quickly Korea is progressing. Progress is nowhere more evident than in the area of toilets. Consider this: in the last fifty years, Korea have moved from corn leaf, to newspaper, to paper rolls, to water spray. This is the Korean economic miracle.

Dok Do Riders    return to top
April 8, 2006 / Number 178.

As I was reading the local newspaper, my eyes ran across an article concerning young Koreans who intend to ride motorcycles across 23 nations in order to pass out leaflets and perform samulnori traditional music. These five university students want to tell the world why the Dokdo Islands should be everyone’s concern. The leader of the motorcycle crusade is Sang Kyun Kang, a student at Yonsei University. He said, “This problem can have a impact on world peace. The key to solving this problem is not with the two countries involved, but other countries”.

If you are from Korea, the mention of Dokdo makes your blood boil and stokes your patriotism. If you are from the rest of the world, you yawn or gaze in amusement, wondering at how islands so small can stir passions so large.

To discover more about the controversy I turned to the internet. I read Korean pages, Japanese pages, and American pages. I learned that the islands in dispute are about half way between the Korean and Japan located in what the Koreans call the “East Sea” but the rest of the world calls “the Sea of Japan” . Each of the two Dokto islands has a size and appearance similar to Alcatraz island in San Francisco Bay. And like Alcatraz, Dokto has no fresh water source. The rocks were always considered uninhabitable until Korean soldiers occupied them in 1953.

I don’t have the time to go into detail about the rival claims between Japan and Korea, but in all fairness is does seem to me that Korea has the better claim to the disputed rocks. That’s why, it is my opinion, that all this passion about Dokto is overdramatic. Look, Korea claims Dokto and Korea occupies Dokto. Isn’t that better than claiming Dokto but having Japanese soldiers sitting on the hilltop? Japan will never invade these tiny rocks and risk lives in the process. Japan is wrong and Korea is right. You know this and I know this. Why is it so important that everybody in the world agree with this position? Why is it so necessary to have Japan confess this?

Today my wife and I stopped by a Korean market. As she was buying vegetables, I was looking at the shelves of merchandise. I spotted a small metal globe about the size of a grapefruit. There was a slot in top to put coins and save money. As I studied the globe, I found Korea to be about the size and shape of my small fingernail. I saw the words “Tae Han Min Guk” stretched across the Korean peninsula and arcing toward Japan.

As I studied the map more, I couldn’t find the island of Jejudo. “Maybe the island is too small”, I thought. I also noticed that Seoul was absent from the map. I think that only nations were identified, not cities. But then, underneath the word “Guk”, I saw a very small dot with words so tiny that I couldn’t read them. I waked to the next isle and found a magnifying glass. Of course the extremely tiny writing was “Dokdo”.

I can now understand why five university students are handing out leaflets and performing samulnori. Those two tiny rocks half way between Korea and Japan are more noteworthy than Jejudo and more significant than Seoul. Here is my solution to this controversy: Japan and Korea can compromise. Japan will agree that the Dokdo islands belong to Korea and Korea will agree that the water they lie in should be called the Sea of Japan.

Season of Weddings    return to top
April 22, 2006 / Number 179.

My wife and I just got news that our second son has proposed marriage to his long-time girlfriend and she has said “yes”. We will be traveling to New York soon to attend our son’s wedding. Dilia is a wonderful woman and we look forward to welcoming her into our family. One of the advantages of being both a father and a pastor is that I can not only attend this wedding but preside over it as well.

Meanwhile, here in California, I am doing pre-marriage counseling for a young Korean couple. Last Friday, my wife and I took them on a counseling hike. I walked and talked with the future groom while she talked and walked with the soon-to-be bride. I have discovered that counseling hikes are a wonderful alternative to talking in a stuffy room. Sitting on a hillside overlooking the ocean, the four of us shared our lunch and our thoughts about the importance and permanence of Christian marriage.

Last month, we were getting strange messages on our phone. A woman’s voice said only: “yobosayo …yobosayo ….yobosayo”, then hung up. When we finally responded to this mystery voice, we discovered that it belonged to a Korean relative who wanted us to find a husband for her daughter. This desperate aunt informed us that the future husband had to be a Christian and either a doctor or lawyer. Although the daughter lives on the east coast, we assured the aunt that we would do what we could to be matchmaker.

It is interesting to me that these three single woman from different parts of the world share something in common. Our future daughter-in-law, the woman we are counseling, and the distant relative are all thirty-two years old. Is it my imagination or are people marrying at an later age than we did in a previous generation? I was married at age 24, which seemed old at the time. My bride was 23 year old.

Most people that I minister to in church are in their late 20s or 30s and are unmarried. As I talk with them, it does seem that these high-achievers are postponing marriage in favor of careers and lifestyle. Some appear to be distrustful of marriage because their own parents were divorced. In America the average marrying age for women is 25 years old, while in Korea the average marrying age is 27 years old. So at 32 years old, this trio of unmarried women are older than most.

Father, counselor, matchmaker. Springtime is a season of weddings. As a father, I will have intimate participation in my son’s wedding. That means paying the bills and basking in the happiness. As a pre-marriage counselor, I have only known this couple for a short time. Yet I feel a connection with them. I pray that their marriage is a covenant that will never be broken. It will be a privilege to speak the words that bind them together as a couple. As a matchmaker, there is not much that I can do. I pray that our distant niece in Virginia finds a husband, whether Christian or doctor or lawyer.

Of course every wedding that I celebrate brings back memories of my own. My hope is that, as these young people identify and join with their mates, each will find the soul mate that I have found.

Harvard, Princeton, Yale    return to top
May 6, 2006 / Number 180.

My first son is now thirty years old and leading a productive life. Twelve years ago, as a senior in high school, Zachary was at the top of his class. There was a lot of stress in his life as he navigated his last year under our roof. He and his mother were in the midst of “ivy league angst”.

Since the time he was a little boy, Zachary’s mother continually whispered into his ear, “Harvard, Princeton, Yale”. There was never talk of “Doctor, lawyer, optometrist” but always “Harvard, Princeton, Yale”. As high school was drawing to an end, Zachary was conditioned. He didn’t talk about a “vocation” but only a “location”. And the location was always ivy league.

I remember a New Year’s Eve when this ivy league madness reached its peak. Our son was applying for early admission to Harvard. He had enjoyed the Christmas season by singing in numerous musicals. He was hanging out with his friends, but now the deadline loomed. The end of the year was the end of the line for early admission. Our son was scholastically gifted, but he tended to procrastinate.

On the final day of year, his mother asked him about his paperwork. He said, “It’s not done yet, mom”. She yelled. She turned red in the face. Then she walked out on our second floor patio. She shouted out, “Zachary, if you don’t get that envelope out today, I’m going to jump off this balcony!” I’m not sure if it was her threats or his own resolve, but just before closing time, I drove my son to the post office and the early admissions envelope was post-marked “December 31st.

At this time of year, thoughts of college application return to my mind as I hear about Korean parents who desperately want to get their kids into ivy league schools. I recently read about the Korean mother who was fighting with her daughter. The young lady did not yet complete her application to Harvard. Her mother became so angry that she struck the procrastinator with her hand. In turn the indignant daughter was so offended that she dialed 911. The mother was arrested for child abuse. Now the daughter is struggling to stay at Harvard the because her mother is in jail and can’t provide for tuition. Maybe it’s time for parents of college applicants to lighten up. Relationship can be more important than achievement.

My son was not accepted for early admission to Harvard. He was disappointed, finally settling for his third choice of Stanford. I think that some of his disappointment was in staying close to home. For him, part of lure of ivy league lie in its distance from California. It may have been that Zachary was looking forward to being four thousand miles away from the woman who threatened to jump off the patio.

Three Groups of Men    return to top
May 20, 2006 / Number 181.

I read one time that it is healthy for a man to be regular community with three groups of men. The first group of men should be younger than yourself. Your goal is to help them as mentor and role model. The second group should be men of your own generation. With this group of peers you share your daily struggles and achievements. The third group of men should be older than yourself. Here you seek wisdom and insight into the direction that your own life is heading. At this moment, I am blessed to find myself involved in all three groups.

Over the last several Sundays I have been guest pastor at a young Korean-American church. This group of 20 and 30 year olds reminds me of my own children. They all appear so fresh and so youthful. Some of them talk about college and pray about doing well on exams. Others share girlfriend problems. One couple is getting married next month. I am doing pre-marriage counseling with them.

As I talk one-on-one with the young men in this group, I can tell that they are looking to me for answers to life's riddles. Sometimes my answers are appreciated. Sometimes I have trouble relating to their daily challenges. My experience of growing up in the 1960s is different than their growing up in the 1990s.

On Thursday morning from 6:30 to 7:30, I lead a Bible Study of about twelve men. Participants in this group range from forty to sixty years old. This is my peer group. My age puts me somewhere in the middle. After sharing God's word we share our lives.

Our talk typically revolves around troublesome but delightful children, declining parents, and challenges in the workplace. A few of us talk about not being able to find a good job. Last week we talked about a daughter who is suffering with bulimia. I get a perspective of my own life by touching bases with this peer group of men every Thursday.

On Friday mornings I attend a "Men's Connection" at a local Presbyterian Church. This group is facilitated by a active man of 88 years. We call him "Phil the philosopher". Last week I helped a man of 85 show a DVD of his own experiences in World War II. For the past year he has talked about collecting his memories and producing this project.

There is a lot of talk about health. I have recently learned about kidney stones, prostate cancer, and the perils of climbing on the roof and not being able to climb down. A few men talk about their wives suffering from Alzheimer's Disease.

I am the "baby" of this group and as such I am looking through the window into my future. I see myself in Stan who always talks about his dog, Snooper. He credits this dog with his good health. Every day the dog takes him for a long walk through his neighborhood.

My wish is to maintain a connection with each of these three groups; looking behind me, looking within me, and looking ahead of me. Life is short. Staying in relationship with this spectrum of life keeps me appreciating each moment that my heart beats.

Wedding Processional    return to top
June 3, 2006 / Number 182.

On May 27 my second son, Simon, and his fiancé, Dilia, were married in New York State I had the privilege of officiating the ceremony. This was a small wedding with about 50 guests. I officiated the wedding near a goose pond on a wooden platform. The scene was splendid with trees, flowers, birds, water and green rolling hills. The ceremony took place about 100 steps from the house. Several groups from the wedding processional walked the long distance from the farm door to the pond.

The first pair on the platform was the two mothers. My wife and the bride's mother each lit a candle to symbolize the two family lines which would soon merge into one. The bride and groom would shortly light a unity candle from their mother's candles. My wife wore a hanbok for the first time in many years. The mothers then returned to the audience and sat down. The second group included Simon, his best man, and myself. We were all a bit nervous and while on-stage. I broke the tension by making humorous comments about the groups coming to join us.

The third group was the bride's younger sister and a good friend of Simon. We wanted to honor as many people as we could and they joined us on the platform.

The fourth group was the bride's older sister and Simon's brother. As Zachary was walking on the wooden planks of the pier, I was wondering when it would be his turn to be married

The fifth group was the maid of honor, followed by Gus the ring bearer, and Mariana the flower girl. The children did a good job of patiently walking, even if the wind was blowing so hard that most of the flower petals blew into the water.

Finally, the sixth group was the bride accompanied by her father. My son married a woman from Venezuela and her father spoke little English. So I memorized a phrase in Spanish that translates as "Who gives this bride to be married?" I doubt that I will be using that phrase again.

That was the official order of the processional, but no wedding ever goes exactly as scripted and this processional included few additional people. Since there was only one route from the house to the pond, late comers also walked down the recessional path. An old aunt of 87 years walked behind one of the couples, oblivious to the two people ahead of her. A few people waved to her and she waved back. Then Gardenia, the hostess of the house, walked behind another couple. It took her a long time to make her hair just right. These two were a source of on-stage joking.

We could have even more extras in the wedding processional. As we practiced the ceremony on Friday, a pair of white geese waddled onto the platform and squawked as we chased them off. Later, Simon's little dog followed him up he aisle. For the Saturday ceremony we made sure that the geese were on the other side of the pond and that the dogs were locked in the house.

Throughout much of this wedding weekend, I was remembering my own wedding 32 years earlier. I was so happy and proud to see my son married. My wish is that 32 years from now, Simon and Dilia will still be treasuring their wedding day in their hearts.

Daughters of Korea    return to top
June 17, 2006 / Number 183.

Last Tuesday morning, my wife asked me to retrieve the Korean newspaper as soon as we woke up. I asked her why. She said that she wanted to know if a “daughter of Korea” had won election. She didn’t remember the woman’s name or what district the woman was from, but she did know that the candidate was a daughter of Korea. She also knew that this candidate had an American first name and a Japanese last name.

The Korean newspaper for Monday was filled with speculation that Mary Hayashi was expected to win a primary election in the 18th District and then to win a seat in the California Assembly. Sure enough, on the front page of the Tuesday Korea Times was news that Candidate Hayashi was winning the Democratic Primary in this East Bay district.

The San Francisco Chronicle is also delivered to the front door in the early morning. I had to look through the newspaper carefully to find the name of Mary Hayashi on a back page. I then studied the candidate’s web page at hayashi2006.com. I read through her biography word-by-word. I could not guess that this “daughter of Korea” was even Korean! I mentioned this fact to my wife. She sighed and said, “yes, she is intentionally hiding her Korean heritage in hopes of getting more votes”. I said, “That’s sad. She is probably keeping her kimchi out of sight too”.

Last Thursday evening, we sat in Davies Symphony Hall in San Francisco to enjoy the “beautiful challenge” The singing attraction was Sumi Jo, another “daughter of Korea”. But unlike Candidate Hayashi, Sumi Jo was not shy about her Korean heritage. She made a point to present two pieces in Korean, even though she has command of a wide operatic repertoire.

By my estimate about half of the Symphony Hall listeners were Korean and the other half were non-Korean fans of opera or fans of Sumi Jo. The Beautiful Challenge was truly a multicultural event. A Korean was singing in America words in German uttering praise for Italy! [Wo die Zitronen bluhm]

The American couple who accompanied us appreciated the encores. They were amazed that Sumi Jo and her piano accompanist would return five times to the stage. She was a daughter of Korea worthy of the name.

This morning, the front page of the Korea Times featured another person succeeding as champion in America. Se Ri Pak won the LPGA golf Championship in Maryland. She beat out an Australian (Karrie Webb), a Chinese-American (Michelle Wie), and a Swede (Annika Sorenstam). This daughter of Korea is more like a mother than a daughter. Her emergence as a star golfer in 1998 has given birth to thousands of female golfers in Korea. Now there are 32 Korean women playing on the LPGA tour!

Mary Hayashi has lost her Koran name. Sumi Jo retains a name that is recognizable as Korean. Se Ri Pak has a fully Korean name. These three daughters of Korea are the tip of the iceberg. Women from Korea are winning success across America in all arenas of life. They are making a difference.

Street Cheering    return to top
July 1, 2006 / Number 184.

I am not sure what it is about Koreans that makes them the world’s craziest sports fans. When the Red Devils lost in the world cup to Switzerland, every smile across South Korea turned instantly into a frown. The associated press noted “The South Korean fans are the loudest and most supportive in the World cup by a wide margin.” It’s not even close. Koreans are by far the most fanatical of all sports fans.

As an American with little interest in soccer, I can’t understand how this craziness happens. Why do 600,000 average Koreans paint their faces, pack the streets of Seoul, and watch giant televisions at four in the morning? My American newspaper showed one man in Seoul who stripped to his underpants protesting the loss.

Some people dismiss this street cheering as a release for pent-up stress. It is an outward sign of society outgrowing its Confucian traditions and cultural oppression. Others see street cheering as an excuse to get out of the house for a few hours and party. Regardless of motive, there is an awe-inspiring chill of solidarity reflected in Korean street cheers. Brought together by a game, Koreans show the world what it's like to be a part of something larger than yourself, even if it’s hard to figure out what the screaming and crying in front of a stadium screen really means.

I have proof that the people of Korea are really one nation. They may be divided by DMZ but they united by DNA. It turns out that Koreans in the north are just as crazy as their bothers and sisters in the south

In June of 2005, the North Korea soccer team was forced to play its home game in Thailand. The soccer's world governing body (FIFA) ordered the game moved from Pyongyang to Bangkok and closed the game to the public. This decision came after fans in Pyongyang rioted during a World Cup qualifying loss to Iran at Pyongyang.

At the 85th minute, with Iran up 2-0, a riot arose when North Korea's Nam Song Chol charged toward the Iranian goal and fell down. When the referee did not award North Korea a penalty, nearly the entire team charged the official. Fans began ripping up their seats and tossing them on the field. Bottles and rocks were thrown onto the field, and masses of North Koreans surrounded the Iranian team's bus after the match. It took riot police two hours to clear a way for the Iranians and the referees to make their way back to their hotel. This was the North Korean version of street cheering.

I look forward to the day when these two crazy halves of Korea are united into one crazy nation. They can keep the name “Red Devils”. “Red” for the north and “devil” for the south. Fans with painted faces will be cheering in the streets and tearing up seats from the Yalu River in the north all the way to Jeju island in the south. If you think that Korean fans are noisy now, just wait until unification.

Big Snakes in Africa    return to top
August 5, 2006 / Number 185.

A few days after returning from Africa, I was having dinner with two Korean friends. This couple intends to be missionaries to the Korean diaspora north of the Yalu river. They remarked how brave we were to be missionaries to Africa. First he mentioned multiple African diseases, then she mentioned snakes. As the word “snakes” left her lips, I saw her shudder with dread. I don’t understand this phobia of snakes. Snakes are just as much God’s creatures as are dogs and birds.

Speaking of these creepy creatures, I was able to handle a big, long snake during this mission trip. (Warning to squeamish Korean readers: If you are profoundly snake-averse, you may want to turn the page and read about sports or fashion).

While in Burundi, our group of five was disappointed because we were not able to see hippos and crocodiles in Lake Tanganyika. But just before our 4-hour return trip to Rwanda, we spotted a local zoo. As we walked through the gates, we learned that this zoo held was mostly reptiles: lots of snakes and crocodiles. Our African snake-keeper was not like the ones I’ve seen in America. In America, there are messages on glass cages that read “Do not tap on the glass. This irritates the animals”.

Our snake-keeper banged loudly on the glass cage of the cobra. It was amazing to see how fast the snake struck at the glass. The keeper did this two or three times. Then with a long pole he placed the cobra outside the cage. (I have a picture of it). Next the snake-keeper removed a python of about 2 meters from his glass cage. He gripped the snake in his hands and then asked if any in our group wanted to hold it. The four women in the group took a step backward, but I stepped forward.

A few things surprised me about handling this big snake. First, it was so dry and rough in my hands – like holding sandpaper. Next, I felt the snake muscles pulsating – almost like a beating heart – but in odd directions. It was certainly unlike anything that I have ever held in my life. After my wife took a few pictures of me holding the python, I passed it along to another brave soul. Of course my wife reminded me to wash my hands.

On the day that I returned to America, I posted some of the mission pictures on my web site. One of our Korean friends was happily clicking through my one hundred pictures seeing lots of smiling faces and green landscapes. But then she came across the snake pictures. She reported to me that she panicked and nearly passed out. I don’t understand why some people have such a strong reaction to snakes. But then, I have no wish to offend any of our supporters so I quickly removed the offending snake pictures.

There is a story in the Bible that suggests why people and especially women fear snakes so much. “So the LORD God said to the serpent, … From now on, you and the woman will be enemies, and your offspring and her offspring will be enemies.” [Genesis 3:15] This may explain why women dread snakes, but what about my Korean men friends? Maybe they are more nearly the sons of Adam and Eve than I am. But then I find this other verse “They will be able to handle snakes with safety” [Mark 16:18]. The fun of being a Bible scholar is to find the verses that argue either side of the issue. Koreans are from Genesis. Americans are from Mark.

Walking along the Unification Trail    return to top
August 19, 2006 / Number 186.

It is 248 km long and 4 km wide. It has been termed “the scariest place on earth” as well as “the most important wildlife refuge in all of East Asia”. Some have called it “the last front of the Cold War” and others “the only good thing to come out of the Korean war”. What is it? Of course it is the DMZ, a place which divides Korea in two halves; a place of despair and a place of hope.

This “no man’s land” along the 38th parallel is the most fortified and heavily mined place on earth. No one has freely crossed the DMZ in the last fifty years. Two opposing armies deploy over one million men on either side of the DMZ, but apart from Panmunjeom and two model villages, the DMZ itself is devoid of human activity. This thin strip of real estate running from the East Sea to the West Sea is like the calm eye in the center of a ferocious hurricane.

Deliberate neglect has created one of the most well preserved pieces of temperate land in the whole world. The DMZ has become a rugged natural haven for several endangered species including two varieties of crane, the Korean tiger, and the Korean leopard.

Environmentalists hope that when reunification finally occurs the former DMZ will become a wildlife refuge. A few years ago, an organization called the “DMZ Forum” held a conference in Seoul to gather support for designating the DMZ a World Heritage Site. This UN designation would curb development and prevent abuse.

Environmentalists fear destruction from both sides. South Korean businessmen might put economic development first and turn the zone into a weekend getaway for residents of Seoul. North Korea has no environmental movement and once the zone is open to traffic, hungry people might trample the landscape and kill the wildlife. Without a plan, North and South could rapidly destroy the zone as a refuge and a center for eco-tourism.

I have a picture in my mind about what this zone will look like in 100 years, when Pyongyang finally returns to being the provincial capital of Pyongan-namdo. These 1000 square kilometers will be known as “Unification Park”. Down the entire length of the zone, all 248 km, will be a hiking and bicycle trail about 10 meters wide. No cars will be allowed. This will be a wildlife refuge for all citizens of a unified Korea.

The nation can take advantage of four structures already in place. First, the land mines will stay in the ground, except along the hiking trail which will follow exactly the Military Demarcation Line (MDL). This way poachers and builders will not venture off the approved path. There will be large signs that say, “Danger! Landmines! Do not leave the trail.” This will make it safer for the trees and tigers. Next, Panmumjom and the two model villages will stay in place as museums and rest stations along the way. Future tourists will marvel that there ever could be such a division between north and south.

Also, the tunnels that the north Koreans like to construct under the DMZ. These underground highways will stay in place. They will be improved and expanded. Someday the Seoul-Pyongyang super highway will go underground so as not to disturb the wild life sanctuary. Thank you—north Koreans. Finally the two giant flagpoles will remain at Daeseong-dong. They will no longer fly national flags. From pole-top to pole-top there will be hung the largest sign in the world. It will read, “One Nation – One Korea – Forever”. I’m serious. Maybe your grandchildren will hike coast to coast along the unification trail admiring the cranes and the tigers.

Students are the future    return to top
September 2, 2006 / Number 187.

My wife and I have traveled to Africa for the past five years, each time visiting the city of Butare, Rwanda. In 2005 we decided to start a ministry of our own. But what kind of ministry should it be? The need across Africa is so immense. Poverty, famine, AIDS, and war wrack the entire continent.

As I speak to people about the desperate need in Africa, I use the image of a coffee cup. I pour water into the imaginary cup only to point out that the cup has no bottom. I could pour millions, even billions, of dollars into the cup and yet the cup is not filled. The nature of this bottomless African cup was recently underscored by the “two Bills”. Bill Clinton and Bill Gates have joined forces and are urging that billions of dollars be spent for AIDS prevention throughout Africa. Yet, will all this money make a difference? Perhaps a little, but the answer lies elsewhere.

The answer to Africa’s problems lies in good government; national governments that are free of graft, follow the rule of law, and really care for the welfare of their own people. Few current African leaders fit this description. If nations in Africa are to attain liberty and prosperity then it is the next generation of leaders that will lead the way, the generation of young men and women that are now students in the universities.

It was for this reason that we determined to start a campus ministry – aimed specifically at university students and intended to develop in their hearts and minds a Christian world view. At our Christian Fellowship House we are offering Rwandan students both Bible classes and the opportunity to actively support social causes in their own communities. As I discussed this idea with my Korean wife, she reminisced about her college days at Kyung Hee University.

She told me about traveling outside of Seoul and going deep into the countryside to distribute pencils to the children of poor farmers. She said, “yes, this social outreach is something that we should be doing in Africa. We should encourage Christian students to demonstrate the Gospel by service to people on the margins of life”. As she spoke fondly of her college days, she couldn’t quite remember all the details of her college activism.

About two weeks ago she again remembered her college days. As she was reading the Korea Times, she ran across the obituary of Pastor Kang. She said, “I had forgotten his name, but this is the man who organized Christian students and sent them out into the villages”. She did not realize that Pastor Kang had experienced such a colorful and remarkable life – in politics, in jail, in the limelight, and then in obscurity.

She explained that this is the man who molded her mind to help the poor in Africa. When she was passing out pencils to children in refugee camps she thought of this legacy. When she presented goats to the marginalized pigmies, her mind raced back to these college experiences. If Pastor Kang were still alive, we would like to tell him that his good works are being carried out in Africa even if they are mostly forgotten in Korea. Our Christian Fellowship House in Butare is a grandchild of the Academic house that Pastor Kang started in Seoul. We would like to tell him that, but perhaps he already knows – wherever he may be.

"Happily Ever After" -- NOT!    return to top
September 16, 2006 / Number 188.

When I was growing up, I was immersed in fairy tales. These are the stories, mostly of European origin, that tell of princes, villains, magic, and talking animals. Cinderella, Snow White, Red Riding Hood, and Pinocchio are the stuff of childhood memory. I encountered most of these stories in the 1950s through the colorful lens of Walt Disney animation.

All of these fairy tales began and ended with a formula phrase. “Once upon a time” indicated an indefinite time, long ago, as well as an indistinct place far away. This opening phrase was the signal that a fairy tale would follow. “And they lived happily ever after” was always the closing line of the story. I can’t think of a single fairy tale with an unhappy ending.

This is not the case with Korean stories – just the opposite. It would be unthinkable for a traditional story or even a current Korean drama to conclude with a joyful ending in which love triumphs and all life’s problems are resolved. The Korean reader or listener would feel cheated out of tears and out of their vicarious heartache.

When I was first learning the Korean language, our teacher would assign simplified readings of traditional Korean folk tales. We would learn both the language and the culture at the same time. The stories began like my fairy tales, “once upon a time”, but they always ended with sorrow rather than joy.

We learned a song called “Kapduri gwa Kapsuni-nun” . This folk song began with a girl and a boy living happily in a village. It ended with their passionate deaths. The message in these stories and songs always seemed to be “Fate is not your friend. Fate is your enemy”. Doesn’t anyone in Korea have a happy fate?

This same Korean message continues today. About two months ago my wife first discovered utube.com on the internet. In the beginning she was exploring educational sites, but within a short time she discovered the latest Korean TV dramas on UTUBE. These dramatic stories were addicting to her. In their original format the dramas were presented in one-hour blocks of TV time, but on the internet they can be viewed one after the other – indefinitely.

As my wife sits in the lounge chair -- eyes focused on her wireless laptop -- tears stream down her face. I interrupt to ask her about the drama. She explains how one beautiful girl gets hit by a car and loses her memory. The next week, I interrupt during a second drama and ask about the plot. Again somebody is suffering from amnesia because of a car accident. I’m thinking this: should I avoid traveling to Korea? Half the population seem to have amnesia after car accidents. I also discovered another problem common in Korea. Often a young person meets somebody of the opposite sex. They fall in love only to find out the love of their life is a brother or sister!

I count myself fortunate that my wife likes Korean dramas. Our shared life together is going incredibly well at the moment. This is a praise. Our children are thriving with independent lives. Our home and work situations are truly a blessing. The tragic Korean dramas, where terrible things happen to beautiful people, are an emotional outlet for her. I am fortunate that my wife is shedding tears for the fictitious world of TV and not for the true world of everyday reality. How much better is this than its opposite.

The Asian Tribe    return to top
September 30, 2006 / Number 189.

A few years before I was born the “color line” was broken in professional sports in America. The social impact of Jackie Robinson’s inclusion into Major League Baseball in 1947 resonates as one of the civil rights movement’s most significant triumphs. Baseball led the way for American football and basketball to field sports teams that included both white and black Americans.

It’s hard for me to believe that there ever was a time in American sports history when athletes were segregated according to race. It’s even harder for me to believe that race-segregated teams have returned to the American scene.

But that’s what we have seen on the 13th series of Survivor on TV. Unlike previous seasons, where tribes are divided once they reach land, these 20 castaways already knew their grouping fates. During this Survivor series, there are four squads of five: black, white, Asian and Hispanic. Rather than call them by racial names, the blacks are Hiki, the whites are Raro, the Asians are Puka, and the Hispanics are Aitu.

Now I very seldom watch television, but reports of this new Survivor series caught my attention. My first reaction was “This seems so wrong”. My next reaction was “I’m curious about how this social experiment will turn out”. Then, I discovered the secret pleasure of watching this stupid show with silly people performing nonsense actions.

During the opening episode, each of the four tribes had to put a boat together, row to get fire, row back to shore and put a puzzle together. Then they climbed to light the fire. The Latinos were ahead at first, but the Asians came back and won the event. Latinos second. Whites third. And the Blacks last.

The winning Asian tribe seemed more culturally diverse than the others, consisting of a Filipina, a Filipino Hawaiian, a Japanese, a Vietnamese, and a Korean. This group also seemed to be the most academically accomplished with two of the five having law degrees.

After pondering this episode of survivor, I wondered how this tribal concept would work if re-introduced into professional sports. Let’s turn back the clock to 1946. The white team would certainly win in ice hockey. The black team would win in basketball. A black/white football game would be interesting and unpredictable.

I think that baseball would be the most intriguing of all. Each of the four tribes would have a chance to win. Of course there are great black players and great white players. But Latin American players could put a team together that is potentially as good as any. Then there is the interesting fact that Japan won the international championship. A combined Korean/Japanese baseball team would be terrific. (If the players would co-operate). So who would win in tribal baseball is anyone’s guess.

With tribal sports competition there is also the difficulty of mixed-race athletes. Would Tiger Woods play with the black or Asian tribe? How about Hines Ward, who just won the MVP in Super Bowl? These speculating questions about sports really don’t matter. The makers of this reality TV show are reminding us how out-of-place and distasteful racial teams are. Watching this episode of survivor was like watching a train wreck. It is not something that I would ever plan, but once it is before my eyes, it is fascinating to watch.

The Strange Case of North & South Korea    return to top
October 21, 2006 / Number 190.

One of the classics of English literature is “The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde”. This novella was written by the Scottish author Robert Louis Stevenson and first published in 1886. The story is about a London lawyer who investigates strange occurrences between the kindly, Dr Henry Jekyll, and the hateful Edward Hyde. In the end, the good man and the evil man turn out to be same man. The work is known for its vivid portrayal of a split personality. In mainstream culture the phrase "Jekyll and Hyde" has come to signify wild or polar behavior.

And wild and polar behavior is exactly what is now happening on the Korean peninsula. How is it that a single people with the same blood line have such a "Jekyll and Hyde" personality? The 48 million Koreans in the south are among the most globally engaged in the world, while the 22 million Koreans in the north are the most globally isolated in the world.

The date that makes this case most profoundly is October 10th, 2006. On that Monday, UN members endorsed Ban-Ki-Moon to be the next secretary-general of the United Nations, succeeding Kofi Annon. This promotion to the top spot at the UN means that on the world stage Mr. Ban, a citizen of Korea, will “outrank” Mr. Bush, the president of the United States. South Korea is proving to be a true Dr. Jekyll, a nation noted for its good will and charity.

On the same Monday that UN congratulated Mr. Ban in the south, the UN condemned actions of the north. The rogue regime of Kim Jung Il stunned the world by announcing that it had successfully tested a nuclear device in Hwarderi near Kiyu City in North Kyangham province. A North Korean announcer who reported this explosion suggested that the world congratulate scientists in the North for their great technical achievement. But to the contrary, world leaders condemned this first-ever nuclear test in the north. North Korea is proving to be a genuine Mr. Hyde, a nation noted for its nasty temper, violence, and disregard of small children.

How is it possible that two halves of the same nation act out so differently on the world stage? Maybe the author of “Jekyll and Hyde” gives us part of the answer. Stevenson suggests that there is a mental and spiritual condition in all humans that separates the sinful self from the moral self. Many scholars suggest that a biblical text from Romans influenced Stevenson in the writing of this book “For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do-- this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it. [Romans 7:19 & 20]”

“The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” does not have a happy ending. After the unified person splits into two halves, the good half and the evil half grow farther and farther apart. When a final attempt is made to re-unify the two halves, the bad half (Mr. Hyde) consumes the good half (Dr. Jekyll). Then the bad half commits suicide rather than surrender to the authorities. My prayer is that the “The strange case of North and South Korea” comes to a better conclusion than “the Strange Case of Dr. Jeykll and Mr. Hyde”

Trophies in the Attic    return to top
November 3, 2006 / Number 191.

On October first, I was called to be pastor at the First Southern Baptist Church in San Lorenzo. Our church building is one of the oldest in the area, constructed in 1875. Next to this fine church is a parsonage, a home set aside for the pastor and his family. Both my wife and I love our new church family, but we also loved our old home. I found it a challenge letting go of our old place and moving into someplace new. But I have learned that the things I love most dearly are the things I must hold most loosely. It was time to pass this house on to another.

Our old home contained fourteen years of accumulated possessions. Large items such as sofas and tables may seem like the hardest things to move from place to place, but they were actually the easiest. Three men picked up a large couch, put it the back of a moving van, then placed into our new house in the location we chose. Small things were much more difficult for us to deal with. First, I had to decide if I should keep them, give them away to someone else, or just throw them away. Next, when these hundreds of little items arrived in our new house, I was not sure where to put them. They are still sitting in boxes.

Our attic contained boxes filled with a thousand of these little things. There were bags, suitcases, boxes, and bookshelves full of my own things, my wife’s things, and most of all things that were once treasured by our two sons. Our attic became the final resting place for all the things belonging to this family.

In traditional Christianity “limbo” was a place halfway between heaven and hell. Our attic was limbo for personal objects that were no longer useful in our living space but not so useless that they should be discarded. I spent several hours emptying out this space of limbo. I ran across long-forgotten college papers (keep), broken telephones (throw out), and old books (donate to Goodwill). I was surprised at how many old trophies and plaques I discovered. It seems like the only time I look at these objects is when I move them from place to place.

I saw trophies from high school when I ran track. I saw church awards, boy scout awards, and sports awards. I saw numerous awards, medals, and plaques from twenty years spent in the army. I saw academic achievement awards and certificates. Why do I hang on to all this junk? Most of these trophies are made of ugly gold plastic. I would never display them on the walls of the house. Why do I keep them in limbo? I suspect that my old trophies are a kind of security. Just knowing that they exist in some dark corner gives me assurance that I am worth something. It’s like I can always respond to some critic, “look here, I won an army award in 1978”. But really, does anybody really care about all of these gold-plated plastic awards?

There is an old Christian hymn with the words “lay my trophies down”. I never understood those words in my younger days. But now I understand. My house was a trophy just as much as those dusty plaques in the attic. It’s time to set aside these old trophies and seek the imperishable trophies of that only God can award.

Viva Las Vegas    return to top
November 25, 2006 / Number 192.

I heard last week that Korea Airlines has begun non-stop service between Seoul and Las Vegas. Koreans have been visiting Las Vegas for decades, but now pleasure-seeking tourists no longer have to pause in Los Angeles before they lose all their money in this center of gambling and entertainment. This by-pass of Los Angeles has worried the merchants in Koreatown who rely upon tourism from their mother country.

Koreatown has a lot of attractions. There is the Aroma Wilshire Center, the Koreatown Galleria, and Country Club Park. Koreatown is famous for its nightlife atmosphere, which includes exclusive clubs and numerous bars. There seems to be an alcohol establishment on every block and club-goers roam the streets throughout the night . But Koreatown, for all its attractions, can not hold a candle to the bright lights of Las Vegas. How could anyplace compete with the outlandish excess of the “Vegas strip”?

No doubt many Koreans fly directly into Las Vegas as a straight route to gambling. But now many Korean tourists are purposfully avoiding Koreatown. Crime is on the rise along Wilshire, Beverly, and Olympic Boulevards. Most every merchant has a story to tell of armed robbery. The bars and all-night parties that attract tourists, also attract theives and drug-pushers.

Many people do not realize that within the boundries of Koreatown, Koreans are a distinct minority. There are more Hispanics and African-Americans. Many of these local residents resent the prosperity of the Korean community and their resentment often reveals itself in crime. And so now Korea Airlines flies Korean tourists directly into Las Vegas to see some of the biggest attractions in the world.

About thirty years ago there was a giant attraction is Las Vegas. This attraction who died in 1977 was Elvis Presley. One of his popular songs sang the praises of his adopted city. Dressed in a white jumpsuit and sequens, Elvis sang “Oh, there’s black jack and poker and the roulette wheel. A fortune won and lost on every deal. All you need’s a strong heart and a nerve of steel. Viva Las Vegas, Viva Las Vegas”. It appears that Korea Airlines is taking up this song and is singing: “Viva, Las Vegas”, to the disappointment of Koreatown.

How can anyone on Wilshire Boulevard hope to complete with Elvis Presley? Since you can’t beat him, maybe you can join him. I suggest that the merchants of Koreatown find an Elvis impersonator. It would be best if the impersonator were Korean. Then the impersonator could sing the praises of this corner of Los Angeles: “Oh, there’s a bar on every corner and a party in every bar. Walk the streets at night and in the morning visit our spas. Spend, spend, spend, your money, every dollar and won. Viva Los Angeles and Viva Koreatown.” Maybe this would draw the tourists back to Koreatown .. but probably not.

Niceness Test    return to top
December 16, 2006 / Number 193.

Someone once told me this adage: “If your friend is nice to you, but not nice to the girl waiting on your table, then your friend is not a nice person”. I have thought about this from time to time. It seems to ring true for me. The courtesy shown to me is only a pretense until the same courtesy is extended to others.

There was a time when I was a school teacher in Korea. A Korean teacher invited me to a local tea room. The man appeared to be courteous and very proper. He was talking his best English to me when a small girl of ten years appeared at our table. It was in the cold of winter and she held three small tangerines in her hands. With her face downcast she repeated in a soft voice “100 won, 100 won”. My courteous friend tried to ignore her for a few minutes, and then he shouted at her, “an-sah, gah”. The poor girl scampered into the darkness outside.

I learned two things with that outburst. First, I learned that my friend was not a nice person, even though he was acting nice to me. Second, I learned how to speak rude Korean. Up to that time, my classroom Korean only included honorific endings like “an-sam-nida, gashipsio”. “An-sah, gah” was new to me

These days when I meet a new person who may become my partner in work or in ministry, I pay close attention to how they treat other people. Of course the person is nice to me. I have something that they want. But how does my new acquaintance treat others, especially those with little power? During my last mission to Africa, one person passed this “niceness test” and another person failed.

I was a passenger in Pastor Paul’s car. Just recently the police of Rwanda have been enforcing speed limits. Paul was driving toward Kigali when a state policeman with a rifle waved us over to the side of the road. I was upset by the behavior of the policemen. As the policeman shouted, Paul never raised his voice. He was written a speeding ticket for the equivalent of $80 – a large sum in Africa. Even after we drove away, Paul just took a deep breath and refused to speak bad about the situation. I appreciated his courtesy and self-control, even to people who I sensed were abusing him.

About the same time I was having a suit made at a local tailor shop. Petite was helping me with interpretation, fitting and purchasing. When we went together to have the jacket fitted, two young girls were sitting behind the sewing machines. They may have been 16 or so. As I tried on the suit jacket, I couldn’t get my arm to fit through the arm hole. There were threads in the way. I thought it was a bit humorous, but Petite went ballistic! I had never seen that side of her. She scolded and pounded her fist on the table. The girls ran to the back of the room and an older lady came out. She continued her rant. I began to walk away. She saw me, ran to catch me, and said, “Don’t worry. They will fix your jacket by tomorrow”. I wasn’t concerned about my jacket. I was concerned about my Petite.

Do you want to see who the really nice people are in the world? Observe them when they don’t think that you are looking. Look at them out the window or from behind. See how they treat other people in stressful situations – especially children or those with little power. Are they nice to the helpless and the homeless? If so, then they pass the “Niceness test”, and you can believe it is real when they are nice to you.

The Narcissus    return to top
December 30, 2006 / Number 194.

When I was first learning the Korean language, our teacher gave us a two-page list of Korean words with the heading “COGNATES”. He explained to us that Korean speakers borrowed these words from the English language and incorporated them into their own language. I remember words like: “ball-pen”, “computer”, and “television”. These were English cognates, but I needed to learn how to pronounce them like a Korean speaker.

Last year I learned a new English cognate. It is called “well-being”. A few years ago, this word was unspoken, but now it appears that every Korean is speaking the word “well being”. Just as Korean people desire to have “designer jeans” and “designer cell phones”, the purpose of well-being seems to be to obtain a “designer body” –one that will retain its good looks for a life time. I have noticed three components to this explosion of well-being in Korea: eat the right way, exercise the right way, and get the right plastic surgery.

Every time I visit the local Korean grocery store, I am amazed at the increasing shelf space given to health foods. There has always been the ginseng root, deer antler, and Bacchus F, but now every food is touting its health benefits. Well being is everywhere. My friend who visited Korea last year brought back a small bottle of “tree water”. He told me that this kind of water is only found in the deep countryside and drips slowly from trees drilled with small holes. It was very expensive. He offered me a few drops of the precious liquid and said it would really increase my “well-being”. I was not sure if my well being was improved, but I’m sure that the tree farmer’s well-being improved after the sale of that little bottle.

And then there is exercise. When I first lived in Korea, I would occasionally jog through the countryside. Friends asked me why I was running. When I answered that I did it for exercise, they shook their heads like I was a crazy American. But now every housewife seems to be doing some kind of exercise routine. Well being means reaching an ideal weight and obtaining the firm, muscular body that you see on TV stars. Health clubs, exercise equipment, and sports teams are all adding to the well being of Koreans.

And finally there is the obsession with plastic surgery. Is there any famous actor or actress who hasn’t been “enhanced” by the blade of a knife? Bigger eyes, smaller cheek bones, fewer wrinkles, more hair. Whatever diet or exercise cannot accomplish, the surgeon is on standby to complete.

Although well-being is mostly a positive development in Korea, there is downside. In my opinion, physical self-improvement can divert attention away from spiritual self-improvement. “Well-being” is causing many to take their eyes off of God and away from the welfare of their neighbors. Rather, they focus their eyes on our own belly-buttons.

Consider the Greek myth of Narcissus. This young man fell in love with his own reflection in a stream. He stayed transfixed by the stream and the gods thought he would die of starvation so they changed him into the flower to stay there forever. Perhaps the national flower of Korea should also change its name. Instead of the rose of sharon, let’s make it something that truly reflects the culture of Korea – the narcissus.

And Now the Necklace    return to top
January 20, 2007 / Number 195.

Everything has a lifespan. For dogs, 20 years is a long life. For humans, 80 years is considered a good lifespan. For redwood trees, 2000 years is possible. For this newspaper column – through American Eyes – 8 years is the lifespan. That’s right. After 195 appearances this column is drawing to a close. All good things must come to an end.

My life is moving into directions that make continued writing difficult. As a church pastor, my focus is increasingly on church matters and the needs of my congregation. Also, my contact with Korean people (other than my wife) is diminishing. I am much more involved in Africa these days. Of course this is a sad time for me and perhaps also for a few faithful readers.

My wife is a university professor and in 1998 she published a few articles in the Korea Times about higher education. Her editor graciously asked if I could write one or two articles about how Koreans look through American eyes. This sounded like fun to me and I agreed to write two articles. The first article appeared in the San Francisco Korea Times on January 23rd, 1999, and was entitled “don’t make dog sounds”. The second appeared a few weeks later and was titled “Korea: one nation or two?”

I believe the articles were well received, because I was offered continuing column space in the newspaper. After a several months the column was also appearing in Los Angeles and then across the entire nation.

I once met a stranger in a Korean market in Chicago who recognized me as a columnist. She began talking to me in Korean like I was her old friend. I just smiled and said “thank you”. I said only “thank you” because I couldn’t say much beyond that. This brings me to an open secret about this column. It is a true collaboration.

I would typically ruminate for several days about the topic of my column. Then in a few hours, I would put my words into a word processor. It was my wonderful wife who spent agonizing hours converting my English thoughts into Korean thoughts. Without her, there could be no column. And as I thank my wife, Kim Hyun Deok, I also want to thank our long-time column editor – Jung Hee Kwon. She consistently improved a few select words and made a good column even better. Of course, I also want to thank all the people at the Korea Times for hosting my column through 8 years and 195 articles. You have been very kind to me.

I look at each of my columns as a single pearl. My project is not complete until I see all 195 pearls strung together into a beautiful necklace. Therefore, you may see these articles again – stung together as a pearl necklace. Keep reading the Korea Times. Before the end of 2007, we hope to publish a book containing the best of “Korea through American Eyes” . I hope that you will read about the book in these pages.

One last thing. I have talked about myself, my wife, our editor, and the people at the Korea Times. These are important people, but the most important is YOU, the reader. I wish that my voice were loud enough to thank each of you personally. THANK YOU, God bless you, and good-bye.