A Visit by the Bishop - A Family Reunion - A Look into North Korea
I'm visiting my sister's family in the Seoul region this weekend. The main reason for our visit is her grandmother's 95th birthday. (She keeps telling everyone she's 93.) We're staying in Incheon's "Airport Town Square," which unlike the urban landscapes I posted about a few days ago, is quite a livable place. The reason for this is that it and Korea's other "new cities" were planned, unlike other Korean cities which mushroomed uncontrollably in the spurt of development in the 1960s and 70s. "Airport Town Square" was built only about two years ago, in conjunction with the new Incheon International Airport. The streets here a wide and there are plenty of trees. It reminds me of Singapore.
Across the street from my sister-in-law's apartment is the "New Airport Catholic Church," which this morning played host to a visit by the Bishop of Incheon. I was able to attend part of the welcoming mass. I was very impressed by the parishioners and the mass. I have been having an on-going debate with a commenter on this blog about whether Korean Christianity is really Christianity and not some form of syncretism. Listening to the beauty of the mass, particularly the Litany sung by a boy soprano, and seeing the devotion of the faithful, I came to the conclusion that I cannot judge what is in the hearts of others, only their actions, and what I saw today was nothing but a pure and moving expression of the Catholic Faith.
I had to leave the mass early (I was able to fulfill my Sunday obligation in the evening) to travel to nearby Ilsan for my wife's grandmother's birthday celebration. She had eight children that survived into adulthood, so many of her descendants were present. My daughter was one of many great-grandchildren. We enjoyed a lavish feast and good conversation. I felt nostalgic for the family reunions I attended as a child in Ohio on my mother's side and in Maryland on my father's side. That was before the Snyder and McCaskey patriarchs and matriarchs passed on to their eternal rewards. Now, with such scattered and small nuclear families, I don't know if my daughter will have the chance to meet with so many people at the same time who share the same blood. That's a very sad thought.
After that, my wife's immediate family left for a side trip to the Odusan Reunification Observatory, built on a mountain that offers views across the De-Militarized Zone into the Democratic People's Republic of Korea. An informational film was shown there, which had images from North Korea from as late as April 2004. It has been a while since I've seen the full truth about North Korea here in the South. (Those from outside Korea would be surprised to learn how the media in the South glosses over human rights issues in the North, and rather focuses on soft, fuzzy images of the world's last Stalinist dictatorship, like visiting delegations of pretty cheerleaders.) Of particular sadness were the images from North Korean kindergartens, where the children are indoctrinated in what truly is a cult of personality. The images and stories of the Great and Dear Leaders are simply hagiographic, and teachers voices crack with emotion as they relate them to their pupils. (Those with an under-developed sense of moral clarity will note that the kidnergartens are free-of-charge, something South Korea cannot claim.)
Growing up near Niagara Falls, I'm used to putting a quarter in a viewer and spending a few minutes looking at a natural wonder. At the Odusan Reunification Observatory, the same machines (they cost 500 won) are used to look into another world. Drab concrete buildings and other rudimentary structures could be seen, as well as what looked like idyllic farmlands. I spotted a few people walking on a dirt road, perhaps coming from work or going to it (it was about 5:30 PM). It was a sobering moment staring across "freedom's last frontier" into a world only a few hundred meters yet light-years away. I could do nothing but offer a little prayer for the those poor souls I saw, and their 22 million (or 19 million, after the famines) compatriots stuck up there by the accident of their birth.
I'm visiting my sister's family in the Seoul region this weekend. The main reason for our visit is her grandmother's 95th birthday. (She keeps telling everyone she's 93.) We're staying in Incheon's "Airport Town Square," which unlike the urban landscapes I posted about a few days ago, is quite a livable place. The reason for this is that it and Korea's other "new cities" were planned, unlike other Korean cities which mushroomed uncontrollably in the spurt of development in the 1960s and 70s. "Airport Town Square" was built only about two years ago, in conjunction with the new Incheon International Airport. The streets here a wide and there are plenty of trees. It reminds me of Singapore.
Across the street from my sister-in-law's apartment is the "New Airport Catholic Church," which this morning played host to a visit by the Bishop of Incheon. I was able to attend part of the welcoming mass. I was very impressed by the parishioners and the mass. I have been having an on-going debate with a commenter on this blog about whether Korean Christianity is really Christianity and not some form of syncretism. Listening to the beauty of the mass, particularly the Litany sung by a boy soprano, and seeing the devotion of the faithful, I came to the conclusion that I cannot judge what is in the hearts of others, only their actions, and what I saw today was nothing but a pure and moving expression of the Catholic Faith.
I had to leave the mass early (I was able to fulfill my Sunday obligation in the evening) to travel to nearby Ilsan for my wife's grandmother's birthday celebration. She had eight children that survived into adulthood, so many of her descendants were present. My daughter was one of many great-grandchildren. We enjoyed a lavish feast and good conversation. I felt nostalgic for the family reunions I attended as a child in Ohio on my mother's side and in Maryland on my father's side. That was before the Snyder and McCaskey patriarchs and matriarchs passed on to their eternal rewards. Now, with such scattered and small nuclear families, I don't know if my daughter will have the chance to meet with so many people at the same time who share the same blood. That's a very sad thought.
After that, my wife's immediate family left for a side trip to the Odusan Reunification Observatory, built on a mountain that offers views across the De-Militarized Zone into the Democratic People's Republic of Korea. An informational film was shown there, which had images from North Korea from as late as April 2004. It has been a while since I've seen the full truth about North Korea here in the South. (Those from outside Korea would be surprised to learn how the media in the South glosses over human rights issues in the North, and rather focuses on soft, fuzzy images of the world's last Stalinist dictatorship, like visiting delegations of pretty cheerleaders.) Of particular sadness were the images from North Korean kindergartens, where the children are indoctrinated in what truly is a cult of personality. The images and stories of the Great and Dear Leaders are simply hagiographic, and teachers voices crack with emotion as they relate them to their pupils. (Those with an under-developed sense of moral clarity will note that the kidnergartens are free-of-charge, something South Korea cannot claim.)
Growing up near Niagara Falls, I'm used to putting a quarter in a viewer and spending a few minutes looking at a natural wonder. At the Odusan Reunification Observatory, the same machines (they cost 500 won) are used to look into another world. Drab concrete buildings and other rudimentary structures could be seen, as well as what looked like idyllic farmlands. I spotted a few people walking on a dirt road, perhaps coming from work or going to it (it was about 5:30 PM). It was a sobering moment staring across "freedom's last frontier" into a world only a few hundred meters yet light-years away. I could do nothing but offer a little prayer for the those poor souls I saw, and their 22 million (or 19 million, after the famines) compatriots stuck up there by the accident of their birth.
Redeemed by Our Savior, I work out my salvation with fear and trembling in Pohang, South Korea, where I live with my wife, daughter, and son and teach English at a science and technology university. Baptized a Methodist and raised a Missouri Synod Lutheran in Buffalo, NY, I spent six years as a guest of the Anglican Communion before being received by the Grace of God into the One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church on the Feast of Saint Andrew, my patron, anno domini 2002.
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