A Little Fun

We have new signage at church. On Sunday people were taking their pictures next to the signs and I got in one of them. Thanks Pat!

Easter Vigil 2008: Listening with Symbol and Posture

There I was again the only blonde blue eyed foreigner in a sea of Korean Benedictine sisters who were dawning their white habits for the first time since Lent’s beginnings. It was Easter vigil and my first ever. I had a heart full of joy because this was the greatest event of the year for the sisters and I was getting to be a part of it. I thought to myself, “Here I am sharing Easter with some dear people I’ve come to call friends.”

Sister Anna Marie tugged at my hand and motioned that I follow her to what for me felt like a privileged place among the sisters. Many of the other guests were further down the pathway closer to the entrance of the sanctuary and they stood in a bunch. Yet Sr. Anna Marie seemed determined for me to join her and the other sisters to watch the proceedings. She found a place where we could see well together. I stood with her humbled by the ways she shows that our relationship is moving towards friendship and often she does it without language. I cherish that she would call me friend. That “title” isn’t given lightly here.

There was a fire ring on the ground and a table with a massive candle on it. The candle had to be at least 3 feet in length! For the 10 minutes before the start all of us stood in complete silence waiting. Silence. Darkness. Those were appropriate symbols for Holy Saturday. Those moments of silence, darkness and anticipation among friends were sweet. At exactly 10 p.m. the silence broke and we watched the commissioning of the new Christ candle. We shared the fire of the Christ candle as one by one the small candles we held received light. Just as the silence had been broken by the first words of the priest’s welcoming so too the darkness of the night broke as we held our brightly lit candles. The priest started the procession down the path, between all the people and into the sanctuary. We all followed in behind to begin the mass.

After we made the procession into the sanctuary the service lasted 2 and half hours—so well past midnight. We were lucky. Not long ago this Easter vigil lasted the whole night unto dawn. There was a lot of standing, sitting and singing. There were at least 7 passages of scripture read. There were prayers recited. There were movements by the priest to prepare for this special mass’s rituals. There was even a short homily where the priest had the sisters banging on their chairs, making funny shapes with their hands and yelling out hallelujah. The priest broke all sense of “reverence” and thankfully revealed the humanity in it all. There was joy! In this special mass we welcomed the risen Lord like so many people welcome the coming of a new year. It was a different kind of party but the joyful anticipation was definitely like that of New Years Eve.

The evening began with moments where I had to pinch myself to make sure I was really “where I was”. “I’m in South Korea, with Benedictine sisters celebrating the dawning of the resurrection.” I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. Yet, as the mass went on, and on and ON some of spectacular waned in my mind with intervals of fatigue. The fatigue was a mix of timing and concentration. It was mid-night so of course I was tired. The whole mass was acted out in Korean. It could have been Chinese or Arabic; I would have understood nearly the same amount—almost nothing. I was concentrating on each word half hoping God would have mercy and bestow on me the gift of tongues—at least the Korean tongue. Sitting through any Korean mass is a lesson in patience but this extended version proved to be a series of lessons.

Eventually I realized there would be no miraculous event tonight. I wasn’t going to suddenly understand Korean with the touch of the Holy Spirit. I found myself tuning out the spoken language all together. I had this sense that I was missing something by straining to “understand”. Why would I even try to understand the singing, the reading, and the preaching? It would be altogether different in English. I was working too hard and at what gain? Then something profound happened.

As soon as I turned off the “cognitive” switch of my brain and stopped straining to understand with my mind, I heard something else. There it was, the “emotive”.  Despite not understanding the spoken language of the mass my heart got involved and understand more of what was happening than I realized it could. I asked myself, “How is it that I can engage without spoken language?”

Just then a sister walked up behind the towering Christ candle to take up fire so she could light six white candles on the alter. A new movement of the mass was on its way. Other sisters came down the isles of the sanctuary to light a few of our candles. Again we passed on the light to all who held candles. As everyone held a burning candle, the priest did some things I didn’t understand. He proceeded to wash his hands in these clay pots alongside the wall. What was happening? I had no idea. After drying off his hands a sister helped him pour some of the water in those clay jars into an small ornamented jar. He dipped a metal wand into the jar and he approached the people. The whole room without being told tilted their heads and shoulders forward in reverence and received the drops of water flung onto them. Then with even a tear coming to my eye I realized there was storytelling happening through symbol and movement. No one had to speak a word because during those moments it spoke to me loud and clear.

On this dawning of Easter we held the symbol of the light of Christ in our hands and with a few flung drops of water we took on a humble posture to remember our own dying and rising—our Baptism. My heart engaged this service—a service spoken in Korean--because of the symbolism and postures. Such things spoke to the language of my heart. I found my heart leading me to a space of contemplation. The story told led me to review my own journey of conversion. Isn’t that what Easter is all about!

The symbols of the night—the cross, the new Christ candle, the clay pots holding the baptismal water, the wand for sprinkling, the bread and wine, the fresh flowers, and the white habits all spoke to the meaning of the Easter mass. The movements of the people—the procession into the sanctuary, the bowing at times of great reverence, the crossing of “Father, Son and Holy Sprit” across the chest, the flinging and receiving of baptismal water and the kneeling in preparation for Eucharist all spoke to the story of death and resurrection. The story provoked in me a remembering of my own story. I couldn’t help but think of all the times I’ve sat through services in my own language and failed to engage with the story as much as this night. It is easy to take the symbolism and movements for granted when there is English.

Easter Vigil this year resurrected the power of symbol and posture for me in the telling of the Christian story. It began with a sister who invited me with a posture of friendship to follow her and stand with her in a privileged place. It continued with a turning off the sound of the spoken word. That “turning off” lead to an opening of mystery—connecting to the story by emotive and imaginative means. There is a reason the church has referred to the crux of the Christian story and the story we tell at Easter as the “paschal mystery”. If I wasn’t convinced before, I am now convinced that symbols and postures used in the telling of the Christian story can engage us in the paschal mystery in ways our words have not.

Korean Atomic Bomb Memorial

The Peace Memorial Park is a beautiful place. There is a river, walking paths, trees and memorial monuments.  The monument to Korean victims of the atomic bomb was an important one for me.  Koreans and Chinese were forced laborers in Hiroshima.  It is estimated that 20,000 Koreans died in Hiroshima.  (2000 is the estimate for Nagasaki) 

While I photographed the memorial a Japanese woman who spoke English came and talked to me.  I was so glad she wasn't just another Jehovah's Witness evangelist.  There were plenty of those too in the park.  One stopped to talk about peace and war.  This particular woman was at the park following a friend who was doing a peace presentation.  (Afterall...she could have been a JW!) She proceeded to take my photo.  She shared with me a bit of history I never could have known.  I told her that I had come from Korea and was taking the photo's for my students.  She said that this monument used to be outside of the memorial park--off the beaten path.  Koreans and others worked with the city to get the monument within the peace park grounds....like the rest of the memorials.  I can not validate this story against anything.  If it is true, it doesn't surprise me.  Great tensions exist still between the two people.  It would just add to the tensions to have the memorial in any other place besides the park. 

 "Pwang Hwa Dong Il" are the words on the pink paper.  It is the saying Koreans use to talk about uniting Korea.  "Peace" and "Unity" are the two words.  

In Korea the turtle is a symbol for long life.   So the Korean Memorial to atomic bomb victims is a turtle. When you are a people who have fought all the surrounding countries to keep your "life" you need a symbol for long life! I guess if the USA can have a bald eagle (symbolizing fierce independence?) than the Koreans can have a tortoise.  

Sadako Sasaki and Children's Peace Memorial

Sadako Sasaki was 2 years old when the bomb fell in Hiroshima. She survived and for 8 years went on to live quiet the normal childhood.  In 1955 she developed a terminal case of leukemia.  While she was in the hospital she began making paper cranes.  "Origami"!  In Japan (and Korea too) there is a myth about folding 1000 (in Korea 100) paper cranes.  The gods will grant a wish for 1000 of them.  Sadako didn't receive the health she had hoped for.  However, her life has become a symbol and hope for peace.  Every year children across Japan (and beyond) fold paper cranes for this Children's Peace Memorial.  The "booths" to the side of the monument are full of paper cranes.  Next time I see origami I will think of Sadako's story.  

A-Bomb Dome

This "ABomb Dome" is one of few remaining buildings testifying to results of the August 6, 1945 bombing of Hiroshima.  Many other buildings that "survived" were torn down.  This one was saved and eventually became an UNESCO World Heritage site which means it will be "eternally" saved. (as long as "eternal" can be) 

There is a tram system that survived (in part) too. One of those tram lines passes by the A-Dome at least every 5 minutes. Inside Hiroshima-ites are on their way to work, going shopping or going home.  My last morning in Hiroshima before heading back to Korea I was on my way to Hiroshima Station and it dawned on me, "Most of these folks in the tram pass by this A-Dome every single day and probably at least two times a day." I wondered if they even see it anymore. Does anyone think about where the tram is stopping? The conductor recording calls out the name of the stop in Japanese and English.  In English it said something like, "A-Bomb Station, next stop A-Bomb Station.  If you are going to the Peace Memorial Museum, get off here." I imagine like many things we see and hear everyday that this A-Bomb Dome and its tram stop are just places to glaze over on one's way to work.  Could that be?  For someone like me, who blows in and out of town, it seems hardly possible.  But I suspect for the resident it is just another tourist attraction regarding a significant time in the cities past.  

On the surface of Hiroshima, the only part I really saw, there is very little which speaks to the events of 63 years ago.  As I walked through the city there were random placards or mini-memorials to Atomic Bomb victims.  Hiroshima is a stately city, a center of commerce and it's sophisticated in its transportation and architecture. It is one thing to read about world events like the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and develop mental pictures of what happened and what must be now.  Yet it is totally different to visit and know from seeing and hearing what life really IS.  Hiroshima has a horrific past, and it is a past to remember, but it has definitely moved on into the present and seems to be flourishing.

So why is it that a city and country like Hiroshima and Japan can flourish?  Yet other places around the world with tragic histories continue to struggle.  Of course the answer is layered and complex.   

Tree Survivor

       

Alone these two photographs are nothing. What...a tree? So what! I didn't just go around shooting trees while I was in Hiroshima. This tree, however, while it is broken, mis-shaped and in need of supports is a testimony to life after the A-Bomb. Somehow it survived the blast and continues to live on through the seasons. It was getting ready to spout green on this mid- March day.

Link to Photos

Look to the right under "Links" for the link to my recent photo's taken while I was in Hiroshima, Japan. CLICK on "Flickr Photos"

Hiroshima

Japan, the very little that I am seeing, is so clean! And it is quiet! The people I have watched at the transportation centers, bus, train and ferry station, actually wait in line to board. There is no shoving and pushing.

Redemption. That is the word of the day. Yesterday when I arrived to Hiroshima the first thoughts were an awareness of the beauty of the city. It is a huge city with beautiful buildings. Their is actually character in the architecture here. There are trees and green! There is open space. In 60 plus years a lot has changed here. I visited a beautiful garden yesterday. There was a pond and a pathway to enjoy the greenery and water. There was a pathway of cherry blossoming trees. Ah...signs of spring are present in Hiroshima. So all this beauty and then the historical backdrop of the first A-bomb. The city is doing what they set out to do and for me that is the work of redemption. The city is called, The City of Peace, and they are committed to educating the world of the atomic horrors. From a visitors perspective and only a short visit I think they are helping to redeem tradgegy. They remember what happened and in the process they are creating new memories. The past must be used for the good of the future. That is the tone I have felt at the Peace Memorial. I have been surprised today by this tone--a tone of redemption--because I would have expected blaming and anger. I guess coming as an American citizen I bring with me that sense of sorrow for what has been done on unsuspecting generations. I sense that my coming to this place is a part of the continuing reconciliation between past warring peoples. I feel humbled as a citizen of the USA in this place. I am humbled by a space of grace rather than bitterness. There is sadness and regret. But there is hope too. Just as Spring is in the air this 15th day of March....so too is another kind of spring...redemption. Thank God for the people of the world who take suffering and allow it to create new life for themselves and others.

Just some random thoughts as I close out my 30 free minutes of internet time at the International People Center across the way from the Peace Memorial Museum.

White Light, Black Rain: The Destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki

Hiroshima, Japan is on the "to see" list this weekend.  This summer I will be leaving Korea and before I do I have a short list of "to sees".  One of those is the Peace Memorial Museum in Hiroshima, Japan.  I started looking into it shortly after my return from Rwanda.  Getting their from Korea doesn't seem difficult.  I can go and return in 4 days.  So here I go!  The trip will involve high-speed trains in Korea and Japan and a hydrofoil ferry from Busan, Korea to Fukuoka, Japan.  We'll see if I get sea sick.  

 A few weeks ago I watched a documentary called, "White Light and Black Rain".  It was released in 2007 by HBO.  I am impressed by the films portrayal of all sides--Japanese and American.  It presented the real tensions faced by the United States (and the world) in 1942.  I've lived in Korea for 4 years and visited other Asian countries who know first hand how evil Japan's Imperialism was during those years.  Masses were dying.  The innocent were being raped and slaughtered.  I can see the reason for and the hope to stop the destruction.  

Then there is the story of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and all of the innocent who were killed unexpectedly by an instrument never before used on humanity.   People were walking the streets one moment and vanished "in thin air" the next moment.  The survivors came down with symptoms(radiation sickness) the medical professionals had never seen before.   Everyone lost someone.  Most lost almost everyone!

Survivors face shaming within their own culture and country for decades. It sounds like Japan is similar to Korea in how it uses shame as a "power".  In such a culture survivors continue to be victimized.  (This sounds like the treatment of women and children who survived the genocide of 1994 but were infected with HIV/AIDS by their perpetrators.)  White Light, Black Rain portrays a people who harbored their story for decades for fear of mistreatment and shunning.  Can you imagine not talking about what you had seen and experienced? But the stories have been shared.  And Japan has begun to care for the survivors who today in their 60's and 70's continue to have great health problems.    

There has been movement within the survivors to share their stories, to go public, and to compel the next generation to remember.  This call to remember and listen is what compels me to jump on a few trains and a ferry this weekend.  More to come.