Torture is Un-Asian American

This may not exactly be related to Asian American stuff, but I gotta rep my seminary and an admired prof here, Prof. Steve Hayner. So here is a letter from his desk. Please read and sign after you check out the issue…

Dear CTS Community,

Our nation, our allies, and our enemies now know that the United States has committed torture against foreign detainees.  And regardless of the motivation for doing so, torture is a nonnegotiable moral issue that we need to end once and for all.

That’s why, last June, I was one of more than 200 military, security, and faith leaders who signed a nonpartisan Declaration of Principles calling on the President to issue an Executive Order to ban torture. Since then, thousands of citizens have joined us, and I hope that you’ll consider doing so, too.

You can read a *summary of the effort* in this recent God’s Politics blog post: www.sojo.net/blog/godspolitics/?p=2616

And you can *sign the Declaration* at

www.campaigntobantorture.org

I hope that you’ll sign on, and that you’ll in turn send this email to your friends and colleagues. Thank you for taking this stand with me.

Sign the Declaration: www.campaigntobantorture.org

*TORTURE IS UN-AMERICAN, IMMORAL, AND BAD FOR SECURITY.

—————————————–

Dr. Stephen A. Hayner

Peachtree Assoc Prof of Evangelism and Church Growth

Columbia Theological Seminary

***EDIT***

John Lamb at HispanicNashville emailed me this also. Please join the petition and make sure torture doesn’t become part of the American legacy. Thanks John.

Check out Amnesty International\’s virtual campaign to tear down Guantanamo Bay.  By signing their pledge, you get to take down one pixel.  Once 500,000 people have signed, the virtual Guantanamo Bay will come down.  Join me and get your own pixel.
tearitdown.org.

– John Lamb

Share and Enjoy

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Digg
  • Email
  • RSS

Why Churches Split: A Family Systems Explanation

Most Korean Americans I know have experienced or witnessed a church split in their lives. At least one. And by the time they’re adults just kind of shrug it off as if they are inevitable, because in their minds and experiences, it is. Even pastors will say, oh, it’s that whole depravity thing. We’re sinful creatures, blah blah blah, drivel drivel drivel. As though that is an acceptable posture to project in front of a world that is mocking churches these days. Shame on us, judgment on us, and boo for us. A church splitting is absurdly normal for Korean communities. And between church splits and new church plants, Koreans are prolific, sometimes embarrassingly so, but rarely profound.

One of the things I realized while serving a church that had been decimated by the associate pastor bolting for another local church was that the circumstances which created the dysfunction were still in place, which to me was troubling. Most of the time, when a church does split, it is viewed by the “faithful remnant” that finally there will be peace because the troublemakers have all left. But in many cases that is not true. And it’s not an individual thing, it’s a systemic thing. That is to say, you can purify each bucket you draw up all you want, the well is poisoned.

So when I read this in my Family Systems for Ministry class, I was floored. This really helps to articulate the dangers present in the Korean immigrant church.

From the book, “Creating a Healthier Church” by Ronald W. Richardson (which I highly, highly, highly recommend for pastors- and did I mention, highly?), he discusses four functional styles of congregational life. In one of those styles, he outlines the “Enmeshed” format. Here I offer some clips and edits (I apologize for the rather long reading, but really, it’s good stuff). Enjoy!

[Enmeshed is when] In the extreme, when individuals, families, and congregations…have trouble knowing where one person’s boundaries stop and those of others start….

The fear of abandonment, of being left alone in the world, would be the most powerful motivating force for people when operating in this quadrant, and they would do everything they could, including giving up major parts of self, to avoid this outcome. They have a deep-seated need to be loved, accepted, approved, of, and guided by others; or, conversely, to provide this for others. Their emotional life soars when they are praised, and crashes when they are criticized….

Here are some characteristics…

  1. We are on guard for any sign of interpersonal threat, always watching for any minor slight as well as overt attacks.
  2. We tend to think others are responsible for our experience, and/or we are responsible for theirs.
  3. We have a sensitivity to criticism, which creates a sense of feeling damaged or harmed by it, so we tailor our lives to avoid criticism, and we resent or fear those who give it.
  4. We seek approval and praise, perhaps believing we need this to be happy, and like an addict feel miserable if we don’t get it.
  5. We may work hard to please others, getting our feelings of okay-ness from pleasing them.
  6. We become overly concerned about our position in the hierarchy and whether we are receiving our due recognition or about whether our authority is being respected.
  7. We may have a reaction to the difficult circumstances of others that leads us to be overly sympathetic by trying to make things better for them, rescuing them, when they actually have to do the job for themselves.
  8. Conversely, we may think that others should be doing more for us, even when we are actually capable of doing for ourselves. (We see others as responsible for our happiness)….

The development of our own personal faith is difficult….The reaction of others to our beliefs will have a powerful modifying impact, so we play down or do not voice all our beliefs. We might even change our beliefs in order to fit in with the prevailing beliefs of the emotional system of or some subsystem within the larger system, or with the beliefs of the leadership of the system whose approval we want….

Walter Lippmann once said, “When all think alike, no one thinks very much.” That is a good description of some enmeshed church systems. There will be a low level of tolerance for differences in thinking, feeling, and doing. The leadership will tend toward authoritarian, autocratic, rigid, legalistic, and dogmatic stances. They will not allow any questioning of the principles of faith or of the authority of the leadership….

Even in spite of the appearance that they are “gifted” in many ways and appear to be “successful” by many standards, the emotional morass of their communal life will ultimately defeat their ability to maintain a unified and effective way of working together. So much energy will go into the internal life of the group…and the turmoil centered on this, that the group will ultimately be unable to accomplish its goals.

This kind of church eventually develops a major symptom of some sort–a “church split” is one of the most common.

It was like reading a church fortune cookie–unbelievably accurate from where I sit. So the million-dollar question (and I’m still reading the book) is how do you get un-enmeshed? Let me finish the book and I’ll keep you posted. :)

But back me up here, does this family systems theory description of an enmeshed congregation resonate with your experience?

Share and Enjoy

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Digg
  • Email
  • RSS

The Gig is Up

One of the idols in Asian American homes is the god of Ivy-league institution. It doesn’t take long after a child is born for the word, Harvard or Princeton, to get mentioned. And depending on how hard your parents work you, it becomes ingrained in you pretty early on that getting into a top school is what will set you up for life, ie. get your parents off your back, get the girl, get the job, and make that paper. 

And Asian parents are similar in this regard; I didn’t know too much about “white flight” until I grew up, but when looking for a new home in the metropolitan Atlanta area a year ago, my own dad said simply, “Look for where the Koreans go. They’re all in good school districts. That and taxes is all they look at when they move.” A generalization to be sure, but not inaccurate from what I can tell. Even Asian churches have to move to keep up with this migration to the suburbs. And “cutting edge” Korean churches offer SAT classes to reach out to the Korean community (Lesslie Newbigin would roll over in his grave). We are not tied to the land, we are tied to the opportunity, and if those prospects are strong enough to bring us over from the Pacific, you sure as hell ain’t going to stop us from changing a couple of zip codes. 

And this frantic chase to get into the good schools mirrors the frenzy to get into college from the motherland. In Asia, the competition is so stiff and the awareness of the names of universities are so strong, everyone can mentally rank simply on what schools you get into (or not). Heck, we even do this with seminaries (Columbia what? What about Fuller or Princeton? Princeton is always good). But the impression that I get from a lot of people, is that in Asian universities, once you get in, you’re in. It’s like high school is four years of hazing just to get in, and college, you skate. Your “older brothers” take care of you. 

But the game is different in the US, and getting admitted to these Ivy-league schools is admittedly difficult, but getting out is probably harder. There is no skating at that level. So when Korean parents, in particular, work so hard to pull strings, teach kids entrance strategy, develop those specific skills just to get in…they might get in. But then what? 

They fail. And almost half of them drop out (h/t: Metropolitician).

Forty-four percent of Korean students at top American universities give up their studies halfway through. 

This data is contained in Samuel S. Kim’s doctoral dissertation “First and Second Generation Conflict in Education of the Asian American Community” delivered at Columbia University Friday. 

The drop out rate is much higher than 34 percent of American, 25 percent of Chinese and 21 percent of Indian students. 

Read the article and here’s a clip from the first comment – scathing, but sobering. 

Koreans view university degrees as receipts, not as confirmations of academic achievement. Cheap, shallow, materialism drags Korea and the rest of the world down…Koreans are predatory, see the rest of the world as a mass of sub-humans…You participate in the tearing down of your own cultures to sit with these piranhas and drink formaldehyde. You marry women that treat you as slaves, work for slave-drivers, teach little racists to ingratiate themselves with polite society and encourage Korean exceptionalism. Korean obsession with American education is a servile expression of their neurosis.

Wow. absolutely blistering. But is he wrong?

Education was never the goal, its benefits were. And when we confuse the goal with its benefits, we encourage people to cheat. It’s like learning to play the guitar to get a girl, or becoming a doctor for the money– you will never be a musician worth his salt nor a doctor worthy of being called a healer. You do just enough to get by. 

And what does it means that our churches follow these types of communities out to the suburbs? Same thing…we do just enough to get by, but we rarely reflect the transformative and generative power of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The gig’s up…are we in it for the title? or the real thing?

Share and Enjoy

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Digg
  • Email
  • RSS

Finding A Voice

So I’ve recently been thinking through what it means to be Asian American, angry, and Christian. People have said or implied to me that they don’t really feel like I’m entitled to being angry because as an Asian American, I’m a beneficiary of what America has to offer and as a Christian, I should forgive and be joyful anyway.

Quite a conundrum. And I’ve been taking this to heart. I don’t want to make my ethnic identity or culture an idol, rather I feel that my recent questions about ethnicity and the distinctiveness that comes along with it to be simply a matter of good stewardship – after all, what good is salt if it has lost its saltiness? James Choung pointed out to me that people wouldn’t bat an eye if I said that I was trying to ask what it means to be a good Christian. Nor would they feel as though I’d stepped out on a limb if I said I wanted to ask what it is to be a good Christian man. But when I add the dimension of ethnicity, what does it mean for me to be a good Asian American Christian man? that’s when it seems to draw looks and comments of bewilderment.

What is it about ethnicity that seems to throw a wrinkle in this process of discipleship? And what is it that draws the annoyance of people?

A book that has been sitting on my bookshelf for a while, but recently recommended again by Eugene Cho (what’s with all the name dropping today? gyah~tacky) in a recent online conversation is “Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria?” by Beverly Daniel Tatum, Ph.D. In it, there are a few paragraphs that really clarified something that I had sensed…

Another dimension of the “model minority” stereotype is the notion that Asian Pacific Americans are quiet and content with the status quo. Mitsuye Yamada challenges that stereotype in her classic essay, “Invisibility Is an Unnatural Disaster: Reflections of an Asian American Woman.” She recounts her experience teaching the Asian segment of an ethnic American literature course, discovering that her White students were offended by the angry tone of the Asian American writers. Yamada was puzzled by this response, since her students had not been offended by the Black, Chicano, or Native American writings. When she pressed them for an explanation, they said they understood the anger of Blacks and Chicanos and empathized with the frustrations and sorrows of the American Indians. But the anger of the Asian Americans took the by surprise. Said one student, “It made me angry. Their anger made me angry, because I didn’t even know the Asian Americans felt oppressed. I didn’t expect their anger.”

Dr. Tatum goes on to quote David Mura from his book Turning Japanese: Memoirs of a Sansei:

Many white Americans don’t want to deal with these questions and, through much of their lives, have not had to deal with them. In contrast, my memoir explores how, up until my late twenties, I mainly attempted to avoid dealing with my sansei identity, and tended to think of myself as a middle-class white person. The result of such an identification, as my memoir makes clear, was self-hatred and self-abuse, a long string of depression, promiscuity, and failed relationships. If I had not become self-conscious about my identity, I might have destroyed myself. What appears to certain white readers as either negligible or a flaw in the book is actually its very lifeline.

But anger is not synonymous with hate. I don’t hate the dominant majority. I think I hate the fact that I sold my ethnic heritage so quickly. Unlike my Black brothers and sisters who perhaps had their freedom and identity taken from them, I’m disappointed that I gave mine away. I sold my inheritance for a bowl of soup. I’m angry that no one told me that who I am is valuable, where I came from is beautiful and proud, and that I have something to offer even before my grades come back or resume is read or my paycheck stub is necessary. And if it’s true that God created race and wants to bring the glory of the nations into heaven, I want to know that race matters and that I’m fighting a good and worthy fight so that my child will have a sense of who they are to go along with the content of their character and the color of their skin. Because you cannot have a healthy sense of character when you hate the color of your own skin. And just because we are beginning to take steps to define ourselves rather than be defined by the majority doesn’t mean that we are less Christian or less American, in fact it may lead to more of both.

Share and Enjoy

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Digg
  • Email
  • RSS

When We Fail Both Christ and Gandhi

Forgive us, O God, for we do not know what we do.

The death toll in the continuing anti-Christian violence in Orissa state rose to 50 as India celebrated the birth anniversary of Mahatma Gandhi, father of the nation and champion of peace.

Gandhi led the first non-violent independence movement just over three score years ago. And while the notion of ahimsa (non-violence) existed in ancient Hindu tradition, Gandhi revived it inspired partly by what he read in the Sermon on the Mount. Gandhi made non-violence a viable political force and understood that unlike pacificity, non-violence was active and paradoxical – one had to be violently non-violent, not passive at all. How far have the politics fallen?

I can’t say how far, but we have some idea as to how much:

Some 20 people have been killed, 50,000 displaced and 4,000 homes have been destroyed over the last ten days, as a result of the “worst ever communal riots against Christians,” according to a report by the Forum. Of those who have fled their villages, some 13,000 are living in nine relief camps run by the government. Some 200 villages were affected, with hundreds of churches burnt down.

How is it that we as Christians and Hindus can enter into violence with one another? Christians are accused of murdering a Hindu priest (it was denied of course, which in addition to the immorality of that, it defies common sense as they’re outnumbered 9 to 1 based on national demographics) and Hindus are burning churches and homes in retaliation, even though local Christian groups have condemned the killing. Have Hindus done the same? Why in the world do we even call ourselves Christians or Hindus if we are to commit these acts of violence? This doesn’t signal to me that our beliefs cause or condone violence, but that we have little faith at all. Or perhaps that politics can do many things under the banner of religion, but if we were to live up to our faith we would look more like Jesus and Gandhi than what is happening now.

May the people of Orissa have peace. May the righteous rest tonight. May the killing stop.

Share and Enjoy

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Digg
  • Email
  • RSS

길: "Road"

I wanted to share a poem – my favorite Korean one so far. I first discovered it when I was in my first years of college and even though my Korean is less than fluent, this one really speaks to me. Dong-Ju Yun, the poet, wrote and lived during the Japanese occupation of Korea and although he is writing with a completely different context from mine, we share something. So here is the poem in the original language and following is my poor man’s translation. If your Korean is better, please feel free to improve this translation or add to the commentary.

길 : 윤동주 시

잃어버렸습니다.
무얼 어디다 잃었는지 몰라
두 손의 호주머니를 더듬어
길에 나갑니다.

돌과 돌과 돌이 끝없이 연달아
길은 돌담을 끼고 갑니다.

담은 쇠문을 굳게 담아
길 위에 긴 그림자를 드리우고

길은 아침에서 저녁으로
저녁에서 아침으로 통했습니다.

돌담을 더듬어 눈물짓다
쳐다 보면 하늘은 부끄럽게 푸릅니다.

풀 한 포기 없는 이 길을 걷는 것은
담 저 쪽에 내가 남아 있는 까닭이고

내가 사는 것은 다만
잃은 것을 찾는 까닭입니다. (1941.9.31)

_________

I lost something.
What or where I lost it I don’t know.
Hopelessly digging through my pockets, I set out on the road.

Stone after stone endlessly connected
The road goes alongside the stone wall.

There is a well locked iron gate
Casting a long shadow on the road

The road goes from morning to evening
And evening to morning.

Feeling the stone wall with tearful eyes
Looking up the sky shamefully blue

I walk this road without one stalk of grass because
I realize so much of me remains on the other side of the wall

I live only
because I am looking for something I have lost.

Share and Enjoy

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Digg
  • Email
  • RSS