Higher Learning

I can now proudly say that I know what it is like to be a graduate from Harvard University. Not just any graduate, but a graduate of Harvard Law School, one of the oldest and most recognized institutions of higher learning in the world. It is the gold standard to which all other institutions are compared. As a good friend once pointed out to me, no one ever refers to a school as being "the Yale of the Midwest." So it is with great delight that I can now claim this knowledge for myself.

However, before your opinion of me starts to inflate too much (or perhaps deflate with my boasting), let me explain further. My knowledge has come not from personal experiences as a Harvard student and then graduate, but rather from meeting with and following around 6 Harvard grads last week. Last week six students (4 graduates and 2 rising 3Ls) from Harvard Law School visited Seoul in order to participate in our English camp for middle and high school students. They were all Christian men whom I believe were genuine and good-hearted. Not that they didn't have the confidence, or maybe we should say satisfaction, that one would expect to find in a person who has such a prestigious line in his resume. This was certainly present in varying degrees with each of them. But this attitude is one that flows from confidence rather than over-confidence and hardly seemed out of place in any of them. It was a genuine pleasure to be with each of them.

In addition to their participation in our English camp ministry, they also had an interest in issues involving North Korea (refugees, human rights, nuclear programs, etc.). This is where the cache that goes with the title "J.D., Harvard Law School" comes into play. Although living nearly 7,000 miles away from Seoul, these men were able to make more contacts in the months leading up to their visit than we have made in the nearly 6 months we have been here. And these contact were not only with those working in trenches, people with people at the tops of very accomplished organizations, to include at least one U.S. Senator. Very graciously, we were invited to participate in several of their meetings and it was both wonderful and enlightening.

One of the activities was meeting with NK refugees on Wednesday. We had the opportunity to speak with these refugees for several hours as they described their situations and living conditions in NK and how their lives have changed, for better or worse, while living in South Korea. These refugees, all of them who were college students, also had the opportunity to ask us questions. This is when I truly realized my status as an interloper. When the refugees learned that I was not a Harvard grad, but merely another person working as a missionary in South Korea, my stock plummeted faster than Enron. One student, who showed up late, expressed several times his desire to get our contact information in order to chat online with us. As he began to go about the room collecting our data, I was his first stop. I was providing the requested info, when he asked me about my experiences at Harvard Law. Upon learning that I wasn't a Harvard graduate, I suddenly became the invisible man as he rapidly pushed past me in order to accomplish his previously stated mission. I can honestly say I was not offended by this gesture. I know his struggle and plight and that his life will probably be an uphill struggle for the next 50 years. Although I might be able to give him a little push right now to assist him in his climb, he is more concerned with his long term goals, goals that someday might require the type of pull a person holding the title "J.D., Harvard Law School" can provide.

The real blessing for me is that I have been able to take the shortest possible route to learning what it means to be a Harvard grad. It didn't take me 3 years or $90,000. I was able to discover it in just a few days.

Praise be to God!

Celebrating Homogeneity

While the U.S. may celebrate its diversity with such monikers as "the Great American Melting Pot" (I can still hear the School House Rock song in my head), this principle is not a universal constant. For that matter, it is not even truly a constant within the U.S. as anyone who has ever lived in the state of Iowa can attest. Nevertheless, diversity is a concept that is at least viewed with some merits in the U.S. and individuality is a prized possession.

This is not so for life in Korea. I realized this tonight as I went to get my haircut, which has become a bi-weekly, 5 dollar, no-tip-necessary-or-expected ritual. Due to the recent departure of the previous stylist who had grown quite accostumed to cutting a head of hair that was neither black nor completely straight, getting my haircut has become a much more difficult affair. This is where homogeneity is quite beneficial. Displayed on the wall at the barber shop is a set of pictures numbered 1-10. No Korean language is necessary or needed to explain my desired style. Now admittedly, my hair type does not match any of the 10 heads displayed, but I also don't particularly care for any of them. So be it. Anyhow a thought struck me, would a thing such as this ever pass muster in the U.S.? I can hardly imagine walking into any salon where you order your haircut as easily as a Big Mac extra-value meal (yes, these tasks are of equal difficulty in Korea). The problem, however, is not in the shameless similarity of men's hairstyles. Having worked with middle and high school aged students for 5 years tells me that many young adults prefer to blend in rather than stand out and I have seen far too many shaggy, bleached heads of hair attached to an untucked polo shirt, extra-long shorts with a pair of flip-flops to boot. The problem is that in the U.S. people rarely like to advertise that they have chosen to go the way of the many. Imagine the conversations, Person A: "Hey, nice haircut." Person B: "Thanks!" Person A: "Did you get the number 10?" Person B: "No, I did that 2 weeks ago. I went with the number 3 today." Person A: "Hey, me too!"

In reality, most of us choose not to take the less worn path of Robert Frost's traveller. May we find comfort and safety in our anonymity.

Fear Factor Korea

I am an unashamed fan of the television show Fear Factor despite the relentless teasing from my wife when I watch it. I don't know why, but whenever it is on I find myself drawn to it. I have always been a fan of competition and I particularly enjoy the "mind over matter" types of competition. When there was a "quiet contest" as a young child, I would rarely be the first to open his mouth. My wife can also attest to my high tolerance for intentionally annoying behavior (though my children might disagree). When it comes to annoying and being annoyed, I can take it just as well as I can dish out. It is for these reasons that I think I am drawn into the show.

I have often commented that I would like to be a contestant on the show. Although I don't have the six-pack abs displayed by most of the young bucks on the show, I think I do have the will-power and stamina to succeed. After all, 50g is a lot jack to win. However, there has always been one thing holding me back. Those of you who are familiar with the show and its format (and I know almost all of you are, whether or not you are willing to admit it) know that the middle "stunt" usually involves the ingestion of some type of very foreign and twice as disgusting creature. It's not that I don't think I could do the eating thing, but it requires that you keep it down and there in lies the rub. I don't know that even my mental powers are enough to control the will of my stomach under such duress. What I do know, however, is that nearly any Korean would not so much as bat an eye at such a challenge. These types of challenges are regular dietary choices for Koreans. Just last night as Beth and I were scanning the channels trying to find info about the current flooding in Korea, when we turned to one of the many Korean Home Shopping-type channels. The woman was displaying the amazing capabilities of a top-of-the-line juicer. This machine was effortlessly juicing whatever contents she added. A pile of grass became a green milk shake in seconds. Oversized anchovies, no problem. This machine could churn out "healthy drinks" as fast as watching this disgusting display could churn my stomach. And then I had a thought. Perhaps my whole mission here is really just an extended preparation for my future. Someday I may stand alongside Joe from Fear Factor listening proudly as he proclaims to the world that "Adam, fear is obviously not a factor for you." I better start doing more sit-ups.

Almost English

For those of you who don't already know, my daughter attends a kindergarten in Seoul, South Korea. While her first two classes each day are English speaking classes (which she naturally excels at given her rather large advantage over the Korean children), for the rest of the day everything is conducted in Korean.

They have many songs that they sing and she has learned most of these songs quite well. A few days ago, Emma was singing one of these songs. It is a Korean version of the song, "I'm a Christian". As she was singing it, she suddenly stopped in the middle of a verse and commented to my wife, "Hey Mommy, that almost sounds like English." The fact of the matter is that it actually is English. At least, it's supposed to be. The verse "I'm a Christian, I'm a Christian" is sung in English. There are at least two things we can learn from this:

First, when living in a different culture you grow so accustomed to expecting the foreign and strange that you somehow lose your ability to identify even the familiar when you are confronted with it.

Secondly, the "familiar" as it is replicated by a different culture is sometimes such an imperfect representation of the original that we can't even identify what it is trying to copy.

Underestimating

Since moving to Korea, there have been many things I have underestimated. For example, I underestimated the difficulty of learning the Korean language. It is quite challenging. Nor did I understand the difficulty in adjusting your tastes to a new diet (see my last blog). I also underestimated my wife Beth's ability to adjust to such a foreign culture so far away from friends and family. She has been amazing and God has blessed me far beyond what I deserve in having a wife such as her.

And just when I was beginning to feel comfortable with my life in Korea and feeling that I was really starting to understand and enjoy the culture and way of life here, I underestimated the feelings of homesickness. This point was punctuated with an exclamation point today as my family and I took my mother-in-law and niece to the airport. They had been visiting for the past 2 weeks and it was such a great blessing to have them here. But watching Sarah and Karen cross through the gate as tears streamed down the cheeks of my wife and daughter, I found myself envying them. I realized that they would soon be home. Tomorrow, they will be riding through familiar places, reading signs in a language they can easily comprehend, and eating foods they have been enjoying all their lives.

I do not regret being here. This is our home, even if only for a time. I know that this is God's will for our lives as a family and we truly take pleasure in living our lives in the shadow of his wings. He is our shepherd in good times and in bad. And I am certain that the one thing it is impossible to overestimate, is his sufficiency for all of our needs.

As I reminded my daughter tonight, one of the greatest blessing of God's creation is that a day never last longer than 24 hours (except for the occasional intervention of God through one of his prophets). Tomorrow the sun will rise again on a new day. God will still be God. We will still be his children.

Blessed Ignorance

"...(Y)ou will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." John 8.32

I was reminded at lunch today that there is a certain blessedness in ignorance. Not the type of ignorance that stems from a lack of understanding or so often takes root in the postures and attitudes of zealots, who exclude all other ideas without reason. Nor am I speaking of that adolescent ignorance found in children, which is too often confused with innocence. I am speaking of a willful ignorance resulting from our own latent sense of self-preservation. Since coming to Korea, I have found this type of ignorance to be most useful, especially at the dining table (you should not necessarily envision a table and chairs complete with napkins and place settings).

Willful ignorance is the ignorance that I employ when I stroll through the market by my house taking in the smells. The sources need not be identified. When running in the mountains, willful ignorance keeps me from aksing "Why is that man repeatedly banging his back against that tree trunk?". The answer would not make sense anyway. When finishing a meal at a Korean style restaurant, willful ignorance prevents me from asking the nagging question, "What will they do with all of these half-eaten side dishes?". And willful ignorance is what has carried me safely through many a meal arrayed with bowls brimming with colorful, yet unidentifiable (or worse too easily identified) culinary creations. Foods that may be enjoyable in their consumption, but utterly unpalatable in my consciousness. Many such foods I have already come to appreciate. The anguish displayed by the open mouths and bulging eyes of fish does not necessarily betray a rather delicious taste. Raw and uncooked does not have to mean "fishy", although "slimy" seems to be standard.

However, there are still several such foods that the mental bar is still set too high for my westernized senisbilities to clear. Squid and octupus sit at the top of this list. Today, while taking lunch at the company cafeteria, I broke this covenant of willful ignorance. I was enjoying a dish consisting of breaded and fried fish with a coconut/pinapple sauce. When I first put the food on my tray, it most closely resembled the chicken found in Chinese sweet and sour entrees. Although slightlly disappointed to find it was fish, I nevertheless enjoyed the taste. Being a bit chewy though, I quickly became suspect.

And then my mouth trudged forward against my reason.

I asked the man sitting next to me, "Is this fish?" "I think it's squid," he replied. I will not elaborate further because I don't currently wish to relive this moment in my life. But I will be more jealous in the future of protecting my ignorance, as well as my appetite.

The Future has Arrived

I realize that for many people, this post will do nothing more than expose my extreme lack of technical knowledge. Yes, I am still hanging back in the dark ages of the '90s, when email was just a lazy substitute for pen and paper, 28.8 k modems were the "wave of the future", and "hours" had replaced "minutes" as the currency by which we valued our internet access. Now I am living in what is often referred to as the most "wired" country in the world. My internet access runs around the clock and at speeds which leave the old dial-up modems gasping for bandwidth (ker-scrreeecccch-hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm-scrreeeeeeech-buzzzzzzzzzzz-shhhhhhhhhhhh).

Thanks to a very gracious gift from my brother-in-law, we now have a webcam. He has been preaching their utility for sometime now, but until last night I hadn't really become a believer. Last night, Beth and I saw and spoke to David and his family. Praise God! What a blessing! To think that several continents, seas, and one very large ocean could be so easily traversed in so short a time! I was reminded of the scene from Arthur C. Clarke's 2010 where Roy Scheider's wife and child are speaking to him from outer space (we often feel as if we are in outer space). In fact, it was pretty much like every sci-fi movie you have ever seen where people converse by both video and voice.

And now for the best part.....it was entirely free! A 30 minute conversation that didn't cost a dime!

This is indeed progress.

Being Here

Of the many places in which I have lived, I have found the present has always been the most difficult. In the present, I am forced to deal with the many emotions and feelings I experience, to wrestle with my conflicting desires, in addition to paying my bills. In other words, to grind out my existence. But the future is always much more promising. I can spend hours thinking about the future. I guess I am forever a daydreamer. I consider where I might be living and what I might be doing. Will I finally go back to school and pursue my goal of getting my PhD? Will I writhe my way through the ranks of corporate America, not stopping until I reach the corner office? Will I pursue a career in politics, making my name common throughout households, either for good or bad? You see, there are so many roads to take.

But the danger is that many times, by looking at the future, it causes me to take my eyes off the present road that I am traveling. I miss the beautiful scenery as I speed past looking for my next exit. I take no notice of the people passing by on my right and left, people who want nothing more than to share the journey with me. All I can consider is my destination. Is this the type of life Christ would have for me?

There's a Bathroom on the Right

Sometimes I worry that my daughter has a hearing problem. I'm not referring to that selective brand of hearing that all of us develop (I would judge somewhere around the age of 2 based on my son's recently acquiring this skill). No, my daugther often hears words pronounced incorrectly in her mind. She is, of course, only 4 years old, so I am not too concerned. In fact, she has shown an incredible ability to learn and speak Korean during the last 2 months in Seoul, which further allays any concerns. Nonetheless, she does have some type of hearing problem. This morning, she used two such words on the way to school. First, she made a referece to my use of my "cellephone" (as my wife pointed out, a natural derivative of a "telephone"). Then, while driving to school, she decided it would be a good idea for her to wear her "advisor" in order to keep the sun out of her eyes. Now, I'm not sure that my 4 year old has any idea what an "advisor" is, but apparently she feels it is something used to keep you in the dark. Perhaps politicians could learn something here.

Penultimate Words

In a day and age when everyone is always seeking to get in the last word and thereby discouraging dialogue, it would seem only fitting for this blog that your comments are always penultimate (second to last). Have fun!