Log24: The Uninvited, Part I

Well, it's been a while since I last wrote anything at all, so please excuse the inevitable incoherence and disorganization that will follow.

First, I know the title seems really pretentious, and maybe to some, it already so obviously is.  For what it's worth, I ask that you please humor me and read on as I try to explain why I think the title is appropriate and, perhaps, try to remove the veil of pretension and illuminate a sort of truth lying beneath.

Over the past couple of weeks, I have had the privilege of witnessing a great range of moments, all of which seem to have entailed some entity or being positioned as a kind of outsider.  More often than not, I myself have occupied that place as one who is from without, a foreigner, in more ways than simply my nationality.  In other cases, I have witnessed another distinct foreign entity collide with the reality before and come to shed new light on my life.  The following experiences I share are prominent examples that not only try to live up to the different meanings embedded in the notion of "the uninvited," but also more practically illustrate the life I have been leading, and living, here in Korea.

I. In the House of God

Two Wednesdays ago, the school minister (I teach at a Christian high school) asked me to join students from the Christian club to perform some music at a church located within an army camp.  Always seeking performance opportunities, I agreed.  On the following Monday and Tuesday, I stayed at school until 8PM to rehearse with the students: three cellists, two violinists, and a clarinetist, all of who were, needless to say, cute.  Growing up in Korea where a student's life is not about which extracurricular activities he or she pursues, but if the activities are pursued at all, these students have admirably contuinued their trades -- albeit only to a more modest degree relative to their American counterparts (no more than two or three years) --, and I was very happy to see them enjoying themselves.*

*Those who do commit themselves to an (usually one) extracurricular activity (i.e. soccer) dedicate themselves as professional athletes would in the states, dropping hopes for a life outside of that particular activity (i.e. only soccer).  There is not enough time for a Korean "student" to be both a student and an experienced/formal/club soccer player, say (there really aren't any outside "clubs" or "youth" organizations for extracurricular activities here, so it's no wonder school athletes are not required to attend class).**

**I'm sure I'm generalizing, as I speak from the small window of reality that is I am seeing, so this is not necessarily capital-T THE reality.

On the following day, the students and I packed up after school to go lead the evening service at the church for soldiers, located an hour north of Jeonju (I forget the name of the town).   The bus ride proved an enjoyable but exhausting test of linguistic trial-and-error, as the students bombarded me with their recapitulations of English idioms, colloquialisms, and "proper" usage.  Still though, butchered English words, the stories told incoherently todl through broken English, and jokes reinterpreted and recycled from grade school rejuvenated me in both spirit and purpose.  These students began to seem less like "students" and more like humans; almost like younger brothers.

It was a cute little church that could seat maybe...70 people?


The minister, directing preparations.
 

The students preparing for the service. 
I would soon find out what an entertainment extravaganza the service would really be: singing, dancing, speeches, plays, and music.


Choral practice.


There was cross-dressing involved. For the sake of the soldiers...or so they said.  Harhar. :)

Now for those of you who may not know yet, I am not religious.  I did not grow up going to a church or abiding by a major religion's doctrine or creed.  Though I would name Buddhism if I had to choose a major religion with which my family and I seem to at least have a familial association, sacred spaces or houses of worship were not a large part of my family, much less my childhood and youth.

And yet, from the absence of religion grew an ironic fascination with it.  Ever since I came to have some semblance of awareness about myself and the world, I have always found religion fascinating both intellectually and personally.  I have always yearned to learn more about it, from it, maybe because of its absence.  To be sure, this intellectual intrigue has had to combat a serious visceral and strangely unexplainable disinclination toward what few interactions I have had with religious worship (mainly Christianity), and sadly I have no doubt that this immature self still lies deep within somewhere whining and kicking every time somebody comes to proselytize or convert me when I am not ready or willing.  Still, I have realized in the past couple of years that one of the best ways to learn from those things that estrange you most is to engage it directly and commensurately, to confront and delve into it deeply, but perhaps more importantly, openly. 

This trip was another opportunity for me to do just that; to try to open my mind by becoming steeped in religion, and to do it within the house of god.

*     *     *

   Man those kids know how to dance!  Imagine the preparations, the time they put into this performance!  Imagine all the things they wanted to do but had to cut out because of time constraints, imagine the number of hours these students had to put in on top of their already unreasonable workload, and imagine the courage it took for them to do this, all in the name of God and their fellow brethren!  And look at just how much they are enjoying themselves!  They are so passionate, so lost in the moment, so inexplicably happy to share with others the glory of God, and do so through holy song and dance!



     Who am I to say what religion is good or bad, or even deem what constitutes a "good" or a "bad"?  Look at them, heads tilted up toward the stagelights as if they were the sun God himself is shining down; look at the smiles and the unfettered happiness they derive from this service!  Is this religion?  Is this what it means to be a believer, a follower of a faith?  Is this what it's like to be so completely and absolutely free of your world and struggles and know of a haven beyond?  Why then are there degrees of religiosity?  What does being religious really amount to then?  Does this mean any religion is okay?  Am I willing to resign myself to religious or cultural or subjective relativity?  Is that what I am doing, or is my reluctance to do so already a demonstration of some greater "humanist," "objective" creed by which we all abide?  Am I arrogant in saying that?  Is their reality better than mine?

     Wow, maybe the way these students feel about religion is the way I feel about music.   Is this their sanctuary, as music is mine?  Does that mean music is a religion?  Am I religious then?  But is that even a fair comparison at all?  What the hell is religion anyway?

*     *     *

For what it's worth, these students are talented.  Their dances were well-rehearsed, their songs worthy of great praise, and their enthusiasm and devotion to not only the service and the audience, but also their savior, were inspiring.*  The chance to see these students working under a different element in a vastly different context helped me connect with them on a new level.

 

*With particular note to dance, the frontman was the smallest, but the best; that man was killing it, dancing with a Michael Jacksonian conviction. 

NOTE: Most--if not all--of the students who were involved in this service are all very good students in my classroom.  I teach all but a couple of them, and they are all very attentive and hard-working.  What appropriate conclusions one wants to draw from this, I do not aim to explore right now...

I was certainly an outsider; at least it felt like it, at least in my religiosity (or rather, lack thereof).  In some ways, one cannot deny that I was not; what is a "heathen" doing in such a sacred space?  Perhaps I have come to be saved, or more ideally to learn and embrace that which so many millions around the world have already done, for God is great and loves all of mankind, believers and non-believers.  To his house I have come, invited by his disciples (followers) to perhaps begin a renewal, a rebirth. 

So am I a born-again Christian?

No, not quite.

But perhaps what I gained was of greater value: a chance to certainly chip away at the ignorance that has kept me from seeing religion both theoretically and empathetically, but also widen my heart as human being; that is to say, help me become a wiser, more understanding, more compassionate, and more engaged human being; that is to say, a better person.  The service helped clarify that distant and muddled form that always was religion into a more concrete figure.  Witnessing the evening as that outsider unfamiliar with this particular denomination and culture of Christianity, I gained a clearer picture of what religion might mean and to what it may amount.  I have begun seeing religion as something crucial both personally and communally, and was humbled by the fervent devotion and unfettered love that the faithful had for each other, and for what lay beyond.