Do Looks or Books Make the Man???

C.S. Lewis wrote in his essay "On the Reading of Old Books" that for every new book one reads, one should read an old book, or if that is too difficult, at least one old book for every three new. From Lewis' perspective the old books help us to see what our contemporary eyes are blinded to. We need the insights of the earlier days, or what others have called "the wisdom of the ages," to give us broader views and deeper understandings of the challenges of life and what it means to be truly human. Lewis, I believe we may say, would strongly argue for the proposition that books make the man.

There is within Korean culture, however, a strong predilection (I'm beginning to find) that looks are what make the man. The Korean man views himself as "the Italian of East Asia" - suave, debonair, passionate. (No kidding! That is actually a quote I've heard from more than one Korean man who has tried to explain to me just how Koreans are distinct from other East Asians).

As you might imagine, such a view has more than a little tendency to clash with Lewis' notion of the making of a man. While Christians in Korea attempt to balance the two views by stressing the importance of learning, there is yet a strong inclination towards what Billy Crystal's character "Fernando Mahvelous" embodied in his memorable turn of phrase: "It is better to look good than to feel good." Really, could there be two more polar opposites that C.S. Lewis and Fernando?

So what does this have to do with an American trying to teach in Korea? Well, when students and some fellow faculty, for that matter, are as much or more concerned about "looking good" as they are about "learning good" you come face-to-face with a definite challenge. I don't know that I can say that this challenge to one's personal formation is peculiar to Asian culture -- there are, I would venture to say, plenty of Americans consumed with "looking good" as the highest good -- but emphasis upon the external appears to have an Asian twist that I feel I have not even yet begun to understand.

I'm hoping, though, that tomorrow will bring more opportunities to seek first to understand those into whose culture I've come before I start evaluating them from my perspective. Tomorrow, I expecting, will bring more occasions to read some old books when my cargo of 9 boxes are finally delivered. I've been anxiously awaiting their arrival for several weeks. I had received a call from the custom agent's office in Seoul about 10 days ago and requested a copy of my passport. I assumed that they wanted to verify that I had been issued an E-1 visa (granted only to professors).

Upon receipt of my fax, they assured me that the shipment was due in port on 27 Sep and that they expected it to clear customs easily since the cargo was not for commercial (books that would be sold) but was intended for educational purposes. I even got the impression that the lady at the custom agent's office knew about Handong and was trying to help me get my books as soon as possible. Then came the second call.

They now needed a letter from me explaining that the books would not be sold, but would be used in my teaching at Handong. Thankfully, my teaching assistant, Mr. Mok, was able to draft up a quick letter in Korean that set forth the requisite affirmations of use. I had no idea what I was signing since the letter was written in Korean, but I have come to trust Mr. Mok implicitly for all my needs. I knew he understood how much I have been looking forward to getting my books, and more than that, I think he, though being very much a young Korean man, is persuaded that books rather than looks truly make the man.

And with those 500 pounds of books I trusting will come the means that I need to sharpen my sensitivity, to hone my hearing, to refine my reflections on life and on learning in this new land. At this stage of life, I don't have much hope in "looks" but I do have a great expectation in "books" and in particular "the Book" making the man.

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:16-18)

Befuddled by Bowing

I've found that some of my expectations in coming to Handong, those that I had formed mainly from recollections of my experiences here in the summer of 2004, were mistaken or, at best, confused. One of those expectations was that the students and the faculty at Handong possessed a greater sense of genuine commitment to the things that matter in life -- God, others, justice, mercy and peace.

There's no doubt that I have found an enthusiasm among the students and most faculty, but what I'm beginning to think is that the zeal I'm seeing and hearing in many (though, I'm sure not all) is more "worked-up" than "grown-up" -- more like an "event enthusiasm" than a genuine way of looking at life born from experiences that challenge our faith and cultivate hope in God rather than in ourselves.

One of the most telling signs of this enthusiasm is the outward respect shown by the students to their teachers. I recall once when I was walking across campus on my first visit here five years ago that I was completely caught off guard when two students who were approaching me on the sidewalk literally stopped and simultaneously bowed to me. I wasn't even wearing a coat and tie! I was in shorts and a t-shirt, yet they still saw me as an American professor and so reacted with an outward show of respect that this culture cultivates.

Now that I've returned and have been here for five weeks, I still see students bowing to their professors. It puzzled me at first. How was I to respond? Do you just smile and accept the cultural "homage" or is it appropriate for me to bow in return? I felt uneasy just standing there or walking on without acknowledging the student who had bowed. So, I've been bowing back -- trying to express my respect for them.

What I've noticed, though, is that the bow is not so much an expression of respect or recognition as it was the Korean version of our polite greeting: "How are you?" Most who offer that greeting to others are not really listening for a response as they are expecting merely to hear the routine "Fine, and you?" We pass each other with these greetings, but rarely do we listen for words that reveal. We're too focused on pursuing our own path to be interrupted by others.

You would think, though, that a bow would prompt you to pause -- to reflect -- to actually see the other person. Yet, while there is an "enthusiasm" about showing outward respect to others and even to God through the many worship services and the informal gatherings for praise, worship and prayer -- the bowing that is going on seems to be more a show for others to see that I'm doing what is expected of me than a genuine expression of heart and mind.

Maybe after five weeks I'm just beginning to wake up from the illusions that I've had about life here. Maybe what I'm actually realizing is that people here are the same as people everywhere. We all struggle with wearing masks so that others only see what we want them to see -- what we think they expect to see from us. We all need to admit that we're just putting on the mask for the day -- we all need (as Michael Card sings) to pray for the grace to tear off the mask and see the art of our face.

Bowing is a good thing whether the one bowing is just bowing on the outside and not on the inside or whether the bow is indeed sincere. I think it is, at a minimum, a step in the right direction. I'm hoping that I will become more deliberate about my bowing -- truly seeing the other person and becoming, I hope, more concerned about the things that really matter in life.

Here's that song from Michael Card. Its called "The Poem of Your Life"



May He continue to write the poem of each of our lives even through disappointments and mistaken expectations.

Happy Birthday, Aydan Juan!

Today is my grandson Aydan Juan's first birthday. I took this picture back in June when Aydan was already so big that he looked like a one-year-old! I can only imagine how much he has grown in the past month since I've been here in Korea. I've gotten a little idea through our family Skype video calls. I not only see how big Aydan is getting -- "Soooooooo Big!" -- I also hear him beginning to talk. Oh, the blessings of Internet technology!

So, happy birthday little Aydan! Grandpa wishes you the very best today! I wish I could be there eating a piece of your birthday cake with you! I'm giving you a big hug in my heart!

Love, Grandpa

My First Taste of Kimchi

Put a star on the calendar. I did it! In spite of deep personal reservations over trying any sort of new or different food (especially one that does not have the most pleasant of aromas -- I know, you thought I was the adventurous type; well, I am when it comes to new places, but I'm not when it comes to new tastes), in spite of all that, I did it. I finally took my first bite of kimchi at lunch today with my Korean colleagues.

The undergraduate law faculty (among whom I am the only American) had been kind enough to select a restaurant for our weekly lunch meeting that specialized in a beef broth soup -- They didn't tell me, though, that the "beef" parts were, for the most part, unidentifiable cuts of some internal organs (I think -- I hope). The darker pieces of beef actually tasted a bit like small cuts of roast, but the lighter chunks were slices of stomach, I'm told. I didn't eat them. The soup broth was quite tasty, though, and with a spoonful of rice, the combination was actually hearty.

So after a few healthy helpings of the beef soup, I picked up my chopsticks (yes, I'm actually getting the hang of them) and reached over the table and nabbed my first portion of kimchi. It was made from several varieties of lettuce and cabbage mixed together. It looked a lot like a tossed salad with a bunch of red dressing and flakes of red pepper. Maybe it was my seasonal congestion, but for whatever reason, I could not sense the distinctive aroma as potently as I had on prior occasions. Maybe this was a "mild" kimchi.

In any case, I dropped the collection in my little white dish (sort of your own serving plate) and then selected a smaller portion and quickly popped it in my mouth. No, I didn't hold my nose! I was told by some other American that holding one's nose on your first experience with kimchi didn't really "count"! Anyhow, I had enough nasal congestion today to serve as a shield, but once I had the kimchi in my mouth, I began to sense its aromatic effects. Within moments my sinuses were opening and the flavors proceeded to play upon my palate. Wait a minute -- this isn't all that bad! In fact, its pretty good. Good enough for several more bites.

Although I still feel very much like a stranger here, I think I may have taken a significant step in my journey to learn more of what it means to live in community with my Korean brothers and sisters. Food, in certain ways, does indeed form community. And a willingness to eat the food that characterizes a culture brings one into a deeper realization and practice of community.

For those of you who may be interested in learning more about kimchi and especially its beneficial effects, here's a link to an interesting website: The Beneficial Effects of Kimchi

Keep Your Head Warm and Your Feet Dry

Autumn has arrived, and with it, a light, gentle, steady rain this morning. Cooler temperatures and damper days are upon us. I've started wearing my jacket, and I'm reminded of some very basic instructions given me by my mother: "Always keep your head warm and your feet dry." Without a doubt, taking heed to those words is one of the surest ways to ward off the coughs and colds that all too frequently tend to plague fall days and nights.

I, however, was doing neither earlier today. There I was walking across campus in the rain without an umbrella -- my hair collecting the raindrops and my shoes beginning to soak in the moisture. When I made it to my office, Mr. Mok (who usually arrives quite early) recognized my dilemma and readily offered me the use of his umbrella for the day. I assured him that I would head directly for the campus store on my way to lunch and purchased one of my own.

And, I did. I purchased the largest and strongest umbrella that was available. Mr. Mok recommended one like his that holds-up well in high winds, which he advises me are quite common here in the foothills above the seashore. So, I'm now equipped to do a somewhat better job at keeping my head warm and my feet dry.

Its afternoon and the rain has passed, though the skies are still overcast -- a bit of a gloomy day. Looks like I'll need to keep that jacket and umbrella handy, and in fact, with the increased likelihood of rain that appears to have now set in for these fall days, I guess I'll even pull out my old wool cap from Dublin. You might not naturally think it, but Ireland and Korea do share a few things in common.

Frost Revisited

In response to my post last week reflecting upon Robert Frost's poem, one of my most esteemed professors from Covenant Seminary, Dr. David Jones, sent me this cartoon:



Its wonderful how humor can deepen our appreciation for the lessons of life, all the while balancing its brevity with a little levity.

Such a Deal!

When buying furniture in a foreign land, it is clearly better to have someone who is a native speaker negotiate for you. A little more than a week ago, my Teaching Assistant, Mr. Mok, took me shopping at several used furniture stores. We were looking for some furnishings for my office. We found a couch.

I didn't get it at the time, though, since Younghoon advised that it is best to wait a few days and then telephoned the store back. He assured me that he could get the shopkeeper to knock a few won off the price. The store manager was asking 150,000 won, which is about $125. Not a bad price from my perspective, but Mr. Mok confidently convinced me that he could do better.

So this past Thursday, I told Mr. Mok to contact the used furniture shop again and see what kind of deal he could strike. Within the hour, he informed me that he had not only arranged for the purchase of the couch I wanted at the reduced price of 130,000 won (about $105 US), but it would also be delivered to my office later that evening. Great!

I returned to my office after class with two students who were posing a number of questions following-up on my afternoon's lecture. While we were in the midst of a conversation over issues of business law, the shopkeeper and his assistant knocked on my door and brought in -- not the couch -- but two matching chairs. And, as quickly as they had arrived, they were gone. Then, less than 10 minutes later, they returned carrying my couch.

Well, since I couldn't speak any Korean and Mr. Mok was not around, I thought I had better go ahead and accept the chairs along with the couch I had ordered. More than likely, I would have to pay the 130,000 for the couch and maybe another 100,000 or so for the two chairs -- still, all-in-all, not a bad outcome.


To my surprise, though, when I offered the shopkeeper more that the 130,000, he handed the difference back to me! Feeling like I had come out a good ways ahead of the game, I offered him a 10,000 won tip and he accepted with a big smile on his face, though not bigger than mine as I looked at my new office couch and chairs.



After a bit of re-arrangement, the office is shaping-up quite nicely with these new additions thanks to artful negotiation of Mr. Mok!