Two Weddings and a Talent Show

Earlier this month, Sandy and I were invited to attend the weddings of two teachers from the KEBS Sunday School class that we help to teach at The Joyful Church in Pohang.  Pictured above is our friend Samuel and his new bride.  Their parents stand together on each side of them as they are presented to their 500+ guests as husband and wife for the first time.  Korean weddings are very elaborate affairs.  Both of the weddings we attended (one on Saturday and the other on Sunday afternoon) were held in the Grand Ballroom of the Philos Hotel -- the biggest hotel in Pohang.

In between these two formal events, we were invited to serve as judges that Saturday night for the University's International Student Union "Open-Mic" talent show.  Our trainer, Aleksey, was among the many contestants.  As a graduating senior this semester, he sang a parting song that brought tears to many of the young ladies' eyes.  I was happy when the other five judges agreed with me that Aleksey was clearly one of the top performers of the night.  He won second place!  I was called upon to announce the winners and hand-out their prizes.

We enjoyed a full weekend of celebration and quite a bit of fun!  There was a striking similarity, though, between the weddings and the talent show.  All three were very much staged "productions."  At both weddings, special songs were sung by friends of the bride and groom.  The second wedding even featured a singer who is well-known in Korean popular culture.  The weddings themselves were performed in the midst of banquet tables at which many of the guests had already begun to eat and drink even as the ceremony was occurring. 

The weddings were, however, distinctly marked by the honor given to the parents of the bride and groom in Korean culture.  At the point in the wedding ceremony when American bride's and groom's would give roses to their mothers, the newly wed Korean couple is instructed by the presiding minister to turn first to the parents of the groom and bow.  The bride bows from the waist so that her upper body is at nearly a 90 degree angle to her lower body.  The groom, however, goes down on his knees and then bows with his arms extended out in front of him along the floor and with his face all the way down to the ground.

After bowing to the parents of the groom, the couple comes across to the parents of the bride and the same bowing ritual is performed in their honor.  The value and respect such actions showed to the parents of the married couple was definitely the hallmark of the ceremonies and what -- in the midst of a fun and entertaining weekend -- we will remember most from these two weddings and a talent show.

How Do You Celebrate Buddha's Birthday?

The 21st of May is a national holiday in Korea. 

It is the Buddha's birthday. 

So, how do you celebrate? 

The answer I suggested to my students was this: 

"Be Awake!"

“Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.” 

Ephesians 5:14

(The pensive Buddha, pictured at right, is a Korean national treasure.)

Some Thoughts from a Visitor

Shortly after I arrived at Handong last August, I was asked by the student newspaper to write a brief essay describing my initial impressions as a visiting professor. Occasionally, a view from the outside can be a help to enlighten those on the inside.

In that first article, I focused on some early experiences with my U.S. & International Law (UIL) students whom I found needed to be encouraged to pose questions in class.

I suggested that asking questions is not a sign of disrespect or inattention, but rather, a good question is actually the most authentic signal that a student is truly interested in understanding the deeper meaning of things and not just memorizing facts that will quickly lose their significance once the class exam has passed.

Now, as I come even more quickly to the conclusion of my visiting professorship, I’ve been asked to reflect back and recount some lessons I’ve learned during my sojourn here – lessons that I will take back with me when I return to teaching at Fontbonne University this fall in St. Louis.

While those lessons have occurred on nearly a daily basis, I believe they may be best expressed in a few words. Through my days of service among you as a teacher, I have learned anew, from experiences with students and colleagues alike, the value of a walking-paced life, the value of interruptions, and the value of listening.

Coming from the States, one of my greatest challenges here arose from my nearly in-born tendency to live life at a rapid pace. Multi-tasking is considered a mark of proficiency. During my time at Handong, though, I have been put in a position where I lived within a short 5-minute walk to where I worked and worshipped. Leading a walking-paced life slows you down. It prompts you to be more reflective about what you do and even what you say.

You also can discover more opportunities to think when you slow down. The life I had been living in the States could fairly be described as a “driving-paced life” that frequently filled me with tension, stress, and worries. At a walking-pace, life may more readily become an on-going occasion for prayer trusting that Christ will lead us step-by-step as we seek to follow him all the days of our life.

Another challenge facing me came from a personality trait that is often inbred in people with my ethnic heritage (i.e. German as the “Sch” in my surname signals). That personality trait is one that insists upon orderliness and precision, especially in my daily schedule.

I usually approach each day with a pre-determined plan for nearly every hour. What I often found, though, was that my “plan” was interrupted by knocks on my door or emails announcing meetings for me to attend, not next week, but within a few hours.

To say that these interruptions caused me a bit of consternation would be to put it mildly. But, when I allowed the “interruptions” to change my plans, I found that instead of keeping me from doing what I thought I needed to do, pausing to heed those “interruptions” was actually what I was supposed to do. Being ready and willing to respond to the requests of others resulted in greater meaning for that day.

Likely the biggest challenge, though, that confronted me arose from neither the pace of my life nor the pattern of my day. Instead, it stemmed from my ever-present propensity to talk, and to talk too much. In my professional career, I have been a lawyer, a pastor and a professor. Each of these vocations is a “talking” profession. From my months here at Handong, I learned that well-spoken words have an essential prerequisite – thoughtful, engaged listening.

I learned once again the value of being quick to hear and slow to speak. I also learned anew (and tried to convey to my students) that when I do speak fewer words are best. These are the lessons that I will take with me from my time of teaching and learning here – slow down, pause and listen. What I hope to leave to my students and colleagues at Handong is this seven-word admonition: Question everything! Hold on to the good!

(This essay is planned for publication in the June edition of Handong Today, a student English-langugage newspaper)

Look Out for Them Thar Boars!

That's what I said, "Boars!" -- as in wild pigs!  I couldn't believe my eyes when I looked out the back window of our apartment late Saturday afternoon.  At first, I could only make out some movement in the tall grass that had overgrown the rice fields in the valley immediately behind the Mission House.  I was drawn, though, to watch. 

There was something out there. In a matter of minutes, he came into the clearing, or at least, I'm pretty sure it was a he. It was a boar! He was as big as any pig I had ever seen back in Missouri.  But he had something those hogs did not.  He had a mane of short, stiff, black hair running from the top of his head to the middle of his back -- the sign of what an Arkansan would call a "razorback."

But then, I realized that this big guy was not alone.  There was a second dark and equally big boar rooting around, too . . . and three more young pigs.  A whole family of wild boar had come out of the woods to root for their evening dinner in our "backyard."  We haven't experienced much of Korean native wildlife, so this was quite a sight. 

I tried to take a picture -- just in case some of my more skeptical readers might be supposing that I've gone to composing fiction just to liven up our last few weeks here.  Here's what I was able to catch with my little Samsung digital camera with its 31.5mm zoom lens.

When I recounted this little adventure to my mother in a telephone conversation this morning, she highly recommended that we not take any more hikes up into the hills behind the Mission House, unless of course, we were well-armed with a big stick.  Look-out for them thar boars!

Happy Birthday, Hannah!

Our daughter Hannah is celebrating her 27th birthday this week.  Her day is May 13, but in our family, we do our best to stretch out our birthday celebrations for at least a week.  In order to make sure that my gift would arrived by or before the 13th, I put it in the mail here in Korea 10 days ago. Sandy put a card in the mail to Hannah the following day.  Yesterday, when checking her email, Sandy noticed that Hannah was on-line and connected with her via Skype for a video call to wish her a happy birthday and catch-up on all her news from the home front.

So, here's another of our on-going birthday good wishes to keep the celebration progressing!  Congratulations, Hannah, on your new position as the Sous Chef at Molly's in Soulard! With your 11 years of experience in fine-dining, you have well-earned this recognition. (By the way, I strongly encourage all our friends in the St. Louis to make the trip down to Molly's for lunch.  You will have a thoroughly enjoyable time!)  Its one of the first places I plan to take Sandy as we re-accustom ourselves to American cuisine once again.

Continue enjoying the celebration of your birthday, Hannah! 

Don't spend all that 27,000 Korean Won I sent you in one place!

A Red-Letter Day

The 5th of May is a national holiday in Korea. On every Korean calendar the date is highlighted in red. Its Children's Day. Everyone gets the day off from work to spend the entire day with their children.  Here on campus all classes were cancelled, and even the weekly faculty meetings that are ordinarily held every Wednesday were post-poned until next week.  Most of the faculty members plan outings with their families at the local park or hikes into the foothills of the surrounding mountains.

A few of my Law & Advocacy Study Group students had learned that May 5 was also my birthday, so they invited Sandy and me to a brunch at Hyoam Restaurant.  I wasn't exactly sure what would be on the bunch menu, but I was looking forward to an enjoyable, leisurely morning with some of my brightest students.  When we arrived at the Restaurant, though, I was a bit confused to find that none of my students had shown-up. Koreans generally tend to be somewhat late to events, but when students plan a meal for their professor they usually arrive well in advance to make preparations.

The owner of the restaurant must have noticed that I was puzzled, so he suggested that Sandy and I should wait in the special dining room and assured me that my students were "on their way."  About ten minutes later -- as we were considering putting out a call to the study group leader -- the doors on both ends of the dining room opened, and my students processed in singing the traditional Korean birthday song to a guitar accompaniment.  The song was followed by the presentation of a beautifully decorated cake sporting one, tall and thin, lit candle. As I accepted the cake, the whole group together sang "Happy Birthday to You" in English.

At the end of the song, they all encouraged me to blow-out the single candle.  They explained that, while they knew this was not my first birthday (by a long shot, a 50-year long shot), it was the first of my birthday's to be celebrated in Korea.  They wished for me to celebrate many more birthdays here at Handong in the future.  Some already knew of our decision to return to the States this summer, but they were still attempting to use their influence to persuade me to stay longer.

Next, I was presented with a rice paper scroll from Prof. Chi, the chairman of the School of Law, on which he had hand-painted in Chinese calligraphy the characters Ko Deok (shown below) which one student translated for me as "high character" or "practicing the highest good".  It is the name that Prof. Chi has given to me. 

Another of my students then presented me with a gift box (about 8 inches x 8 inches x 5 inches in size) in which I found some 50 small pieces of orange paper all rolled-up in scrolls. I later unrolled each of the orange scrolls to find a special individual birthday wish written by my students.  Some expressed their wishes in their language and provided me with a translation, others even drew pictures. 

The final gift was presented when we all took our seats around the tables.  I had cut the cake for everyone to enjoy, but just before I could take a bite, Ms. Han -- the leader of my student study group -- placed in front of me a bowl of traditional Korean birthday soup that she had prepared herself.  It consists of a broth with a healthy amount of seaweed, an excellent source of nutrients, topped with a small portion of beef.  Along with the soup, a bowl of rice is also served.  The soup is an expression of everyone's wish that the one celebrating his birthday experience a long and healthy life. I ate nearly all of it before moving on to the less-than-health-enhancing (but delicious) cake.

Needless to say, I was quite overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness and kindness of my students and fellow colleagues.  It will be a birthday celebration that I will long remember -- a true red-letter day!

Set Your Seal

There are many things that fascinate me about Asian culture.  I believe my interest in Asia, in general, and in the countries of China and Korea, in particular, dates back to my elementary school days when my father was member of the local Rotary Club in Boonville, Missouri.  One of the regular events that dad's Rotary Club sponsored was a series of films shown at the high school auditorium called the Travelog. 

Each month a different film would be shown about places around the world that folks from Boonville had never heard of and would be even more likely to never be able to visit.  I recall several films over the years that featured China, Korea and other exotic countries of the East.  One film documented life in the small Himalayan country of Hunza.  It is located near Tibet and is one of those countries that many travelers believe may have inspired stories about Shangri La. 

I imagine that those stories and films of Asia were the earliest seeds that grew my increasing interest in this land over the years. In particular, I have always been intrigued by Asian calligraphy. I remember once when I was a teenager purchasing a wall scroll at an Asian imports store in Columbia, Missouri, located next door to the health foods grocery where my parents would frequently shop. I don’t think I realized at the time that the scroll I had purchased was written in Korean Hangul.

The Hangul alphabet, as well as the intricacies of Chinese characters, continues to fascinate me. On our recent trip to Seoul, I discovered several hand-made paper and stamp shops in the Insadon traditional shopping district. One of the customs of Asian writing is to sign one’s name with a special seal that is always inked with a particular hue of red. I asked my faithful teaching assistant, Mr. Mok, to order a signature stamp with my name in Korean Hangul. That’s the stamp in the upper right corner of this post. It reads: 코(Ko)델(Del)슐(Schul)튼(Teun). 

Now, I can “set my seal” in Korean upon any document I write. This is one of the many Korean customs that I will bring back with me to the States. These months that I lived here have definitely had a formative impact upon me, and I trust that the forming that has and is taking place is for the better -- as my thinking is broadened and my experience of life deepened.