A common point of view from many that have looked at the discussion of recognizing an Asian-American church is that by the time people (of any race) have existed as 4th generation people (and beyond) in America, they lose their ethnic identity and just blend in. Is this really true?

When we as Americans look at the church, we almost always agree that there are white churches and black churches. Why? We’re dealing with many African-Americans that have gone beyond the 4th generation here in the United States, yet they are still connected in the black church and recognized as existing within their own church. Can we recognize that African-American culture requires a church of their own, yet call upon Asians to just blend into the predominantly white American church? To do so either glorifies African-Americans as unique amongst all minorities or that we are afraid to tread upon blacks for fear of being labeled racists. With the polarizing remarks relating to the recent arrest of African-American Harvard professor Henry Gates, race is definitely an issue in our society today. Race definitely colors how and what we say.

Can we come to a point where we look at the culturally ethnic church and seek solutions to advance the gospel or is it just about making people feel important and catering the gospel to their needs? If we as Americans can acknowledge and recognize a black church as necessary, then why do we bring a different argument when it comes to discussing the Asian-American church?

Am I the only one that sees the disparity in this?

While I am not Korean, I have been to South Korea 15 times from 1999-2004 on business trips. While I was a total foreigner in Korea and their culture was completely new to me, I did learn some things. For one, I learned that the stereotypes and prejudice my Japanese mom had for Koreans was unfounded. In fact, I came to recognize that most of her issues with Koreans was due to the elitism that many Japanese have. I also learned that instead of looking at commonalities, we as Asians tend to look at what separates us.

From my experience in my secular, atheist worldview I one day found myself a Christ follower and youth pastor of a Korean-American church. I led a monthly youth ministry of praise & worship nights where several local churches would bring their youth groups to in a spirit of unity. However, I went outside cultural lines and invited everyone. One night there were several teens there that were not Korean and the church that was leading the worship music sets were Hmong. Once one of the Chinese teens realized that the group leading were Hmong, she got totally offended and exclaimed that didn’t we know what the Hmong did to the Chinese? It was said quietly to her friends that brought her and I heard about it later, but I had to admit that I had no idea what the issue was. Hmong people reside in China and I had no idea there were tensions. Kind of like I had no idea beforehand that there were tensions in Korea between Koreans and Japanese.

While on one of my business trips I was in the car with a Korean business partner and were talking about something. It was in the context of something being Korean and I mentioned again that I was not Korean. He told me that I didn’t have to be, but that it was in my Asian blood. In other words, from his perspective there was something that united us as Asians, rather than separate us as Korean vs Japanese. I understood what he meant, yet in my own mind there was still a difference. Culturally Koreans and Japanese are different. Just as Chinese and Vietnamese or Thai and Filipinos. If we add Indians as part of being Asians then it gets even more diversified.

With the pride and felt need that ethnic churches must exist to serve first generation Asians coming to America, why does the ethnic church have such a problem with ministering to second and third generation Asians? If many second and third generation Asian-Americans are migrating into the predominantly white church, then what about those that stay in the English ministry of their ethnic church? Should we speak to us all having Asian blood that unites in some way and move forward collectively as a pan-Asian church or should we look to change the perspective of the ethnic church to better meet the needs of second and third generation people? Will we always have English ministries in the ethnic church, yet find some second and third generation people migrating and congregating with those outside of their own ethnicity?

I am very excited to announce that on one of my favorite blogs, Church and Postmodern Culture, there will be a series about race and postmodern theology.

The intro states…

My humble hope in writing these posts is to provoke thought in ways that allow for rethinking the/a Race issue(s). These entries, these vignettes, shall investigate Race through a variety of perspectives and approaches rather than in any systematic way. On the front end, let it be known that I think of Race as a social construction. At the same time, I acknowledge that Race does produce real effects for our lives. We have an experience of Race. In other words, even though Race is not biologically real (as discrete natural categories of human difference), it is real in so far as this idea helps shape the world in which we live and in the manner in which we live it. Race cannot be ignored. This vignette will focus on (racist) structures of power based on racial sameness rather than racial difference.

It’d be great if our community here can speak into the conversation there, and hopefully conversation there can come our way!

Church and Postmodern Culture :: Race, Continental Philosophy, and Theology

What are my ethnicity and culture worth, really?

The notion of “selling out,” as offensive as it may sound, is actually trying to name the price at which the value of one’s ethnic or cultural identity is for sale, negotiable, exchanged into a non-issue, assimilated, etc. Now, this negotiation is almost always happening to those who are immigrant / post-immigrant or otherwise minorities. The only time it doesn’t happen is when an individual (not at the collective level) decides to sell all of the stock, or that they will never assimilate. To a great extent, the latter position is only an option for the elderly immigrant where they might have the structures to support that preservation of lifestyle, be it a China Town or a Little Tokyo. The younger immigrant or children of immigrants don’t have that luxury. We are born into the negotiation. We trade stocks in identity daily. And depending where we are, what resources we have at our disposal, who befriends us, what neighborhoods we live in, and what churches we might attend – all these factors and more affect that negotiation, it affects the commerce of our very understanding of ourselves.

Some cash out early. For whatever reason, it behooves them to move on quickly. Others keep some, but feel like the stock drops every time they forget a word in the native language. Sometimes the only value it has is some familiarity with a menu at a now-even-exotic-to self restaurant. Still others may find it useful, profitable even to be both, so they start amassing stock in the new and the old. Some buy back in when they have children and want to re-capture the familiar sounds of their growing up. There seems to be so much freedom about it really, after all, this is America. We are all little capitalists of identity.

The immigrant church then mediates between two worlds, the mother land and the land of the free. In some cases, it tries to keep the value of the identity stock high simply because that is the chief characteristic that draws the gathering. At the same time, between the covers of the holy book, are alternating whispers of “remembering” and “new wineskins”;  the diversity in all of creation with distinct people groups and “new creation”. It speaks of judgment against the nations and also the glory of the nations being brought in to heaven. The work of the Bible, which itself has taken on the vernacular of our mother tongue and the langauge of commerce, speaks of a different world.

One of the significant insights the immigrant church has shown me is that both sides, the foreigner and the citizen, try to keep the value of their stock high, without delving into the tension of the Gospel. Sure, we sell when identity value is low and you buy when it’s high, but either way, I feel as though we’re still far from glimpsing the new thing that is reportedly possible of happening in our midst. Possible and yet rarely visible. The Samaritans don’t leave their samaritan-ness, nor does Paul lay down his Jewishness, but it seems they both become a new and different kind of person, with other aspects remaining the same. And yet the unchanged, congenital conditions seem to be informed by a different narrative — not one that effaces the givens, but adds to them a medium in which reconciliation increases in value; a means in which love is seen as profound and not happenstance. Not by not seeing, or ignoring, but by entering into the dialogue fully aware, ready to embrace, ready to let go if need be, knowing that the stock we have is worth something, but not taking any stock from anyone else.

And if the church will not put forth a gospel that sees the value in a person’s ethnicity and culture, then how can we say we know the price of reconciliation or the costs of love? I cannot devalue someone and offer them friendship at the same time. If God has placed a value in creating it, how is it that we discount it and offer it for sale so quickly? Is it any wonder we have no idea what our worth is? or the worth of others? Ethnic immigrant churches have to name that value as does every other church in America. How are new and yet still the same? and how can we value all of it?

I only recently understood the concept of “vision”. And in finding a vision for ministry I had a great discussion with a friend who is more philosophically minded. He said that “Chinese churches have an unstated vision/purpose. They are cultural centers where these “refugees” come to get Chinese culture. Is that true of other AA churches?
Evangelism is thus done in a passive way as people are brought in, versus sending people out.

It occurred to me that part of going out involves being friendly to visitors and living with joy at home, church, and work. But that joy must come from  God! Too many though are not living in joy, and thus churches are dying.

Part of that may be due to more programs then true fellowship and true discipleship. One big activity after another. Another person pointed out to me the component parts to the Chinese character for busyness. It is composed of the word death and the “radical” heart. Busyness is literally death to heart. I guess some of our churches have brought into the idea that the more busy you are, the more spiritual.

Before I address the question from the subject line, let me state this: I am not quite sure how the intersection of church and Asian-American culture can really exist in the same sentence. I feel as if I’ve killed off some brain cells pondering this question.

How do you define church?

Can we come to a clear consensus as to what church is so that we can then explore the context of church and faith from an Asian-American perspective?

When I spoke with Daniel So yesterday I began to wonder if our perspective should be the church focusing on Asian-American awareness and cultural issues or if it should be used as a way to compliment American culture at large from a third culture mindset, as Dave Gibbons discusses in his book The Monkey and the Fish: Liquid Leadership For A Third-Culture Church.

Should we be defending our right to gather as Koreans, Chinese, Vietnamese and Hmong or rather should we be reaching out to other Asian cultures and inviting them to begin the process of being a third culture church? Can we be critical of the American church if we don’t first look to engaging other Asian cultures within our church settings first?

Again, the question to ask first is, how do your define church?

What I find amazing is how people can look at Asians and truly believe that we all look alike. It’s as if we Americans become instantly stupid at the sight of Asians. I can’t tell you how many times I have been in a Japanese restaurant somewhere and overhear someone speaking to a Korean waitperson in Japanese. Just because an Asian is working at a Japanese restaurant doesn’t automatically make them Japanese! Rather than ask politely before showing your ignorance, you just figure it would be super cool to say something in Japanese to someone that doesn’t even look Japanese. In the same way, some look at my last name (Ingland) and assume that I must be only half Asian since my last name is not Asian. Funny, as when I was younger people used to figure I must be only half Asian because I was 5′ 10″ and taller than the stereotypical Asian at the time. My, how things have changed! I’m actually kind of short or average in height compared to other Asians now.

If you’ve watched the movie Mr Baseball with Tom Selleck, you’ll know that there is a scene where he is at the dinner table in a Japanese home and eating noodles. Everyone at the table makes loud, slurping noises as they eat. Selleck’s character is told that it is polite and shows that you are enjoying the meal if you make lots of noise. Everyone at the table is holding the noodle bowl in their hands and slurping away. However, don’t try this in a Korean home. In Korea it is customary to eat quietly. Additionally, it is considered impolite to lift a bowl off the table to eat from it, let alone slurp noodles or drink soup out of it. Even things like how Asians eat rice is different. In Japan and China rice is eaten with chopsticks and the bowl is lifted up to the mouth. In Korea, rice is eaten with a spoon and the bowl is never lifted from the table.

With differences in facial features and customs, why then is it okay to cast John Cho as Mr Sulu in the new Star Trek movie? To me, it is no different than casting Mickey Rooney as a Japanese man in the movie Breakfast at Tiffany’s. I guess there were no Japanese actors that could act in the role of Sulu or draw fans like Cho could. Either way, I am one that thinks that neutralizing our ethnicities and just being Asian-American really takes away from our uniqueness and heritage. Being Thai, Vietnamese, Korean, Chinese, Japanese or Fillipino makes a difference. We are not all the same! Our languages are different, our appearance/features are different, and in many cases our cultural perspectives are different.

Have you seen the movie Gran Torino? Rather than pick from a very limited pool of SAG Asians like John Cho, the producers cast the movie with local talent. Not only did that add to the realism of the movie, but everyone that was supposed to be Hmong was Hmong in the film. I would have lost all respect for the film had a demure little Japanese girl been cast as Sue. In reality, since most Americans can’t distinguish between someone that is Hmong or Japanese, it really shouldn’t matter, right?

Unfortunately, I believe that this stereotypical homogenization of Asian-Americans is what clouds the judgment of the church in America. It’s believed that if a church adds a Chinese pastor to the leadership team that they will be an effective draw for Koreans, Japanese, and Vietnamese people as well. I mean come on, we all look alike anyways.

We as Asian-Americans should not settle for Francis Chan or Dave Gibbons as our featured pastors. We should push for more diversity within ministry and help raise up other Asians into ministry. Why should my voice be Dave Gibbons just because he is Asian? Why aren’t there more Japanese voices in the ministry. Why aren’t there more Vietnamese voices in ministry?

It’s bad enough that Americans in general think that we Asians all look alike, but when we buy into that and let them know it’s okay to confuse John Cho as being Japanese or that it’s okay to be ignorant and assume that a Korean waitperson is Japanese because they bring you a platter of sushi, then we really do ourselves and our culture a disservice. How can we ever be respected for our perspective in the church when we let the world think just attracting Asians is all that matters. Stop giving in for the sake of just getting any Asian representation! Stop letting people think they compliment us when they ask me what nationality I am and when I respond by saying Japanese, they then tell me how they used to have a Vietnamese neighbor and that he was such a nice man as if that gives us an immediate bond somehow. We need more voices in Asian-American ministry that will help educate others and bring about more understanding of the current situation. We need to take a stand against those that want to categorize us as one nice, compartmentalized segment known as homogenized Asian-Americans.

In this Asian Pacific Arts interview, The Game-Changer: An Interview with John Cho, by Oliver Wang, we discover a bit of the actor’s family background and intersection with faith. Arguably “Hollywood’s most visible Asian American” with his latest role as Sulu in the Star Trek reboot. I first saw John Cho in the infamous Harold and Kumar movie.

APA: Your father was a minister. What denomination?

JC: This was a denomination called Church of Christ.

APA: Many of my Asian American friends growing up attended Christian churches where they would have weekend night services filled with singing, playing music, and performances. Was that what your father’s church was like?

JC: Actually no. There were no musical instruments allowed in this church. Their philosophy is based on the absence of the mention of musical instruments in the New Testament. They took it very seriously.

APA: Wow, so no organs or guitars, I’m assuming?

JC: This church would call all that stuff entertainment. And the church wasn’t a place for entertainment. So we didn’t have a choir. It was only communal singing. We sang together from the pews, four-part harmonies, and no one was allowed to get up in front and solo. Or have a special light shown on them.

When the premier hot dog eating contest takes place this Saturday on Coney Island, I’ll be rooting for Kobayashi, and I think that reflects the complicated nature of race in America.

Kobayashi’s only real competition is Joey Chestnut, a full-blooded American boy born and raised in California.  As an Asian-American, I should be cheering on Chestnut.  Like Joey, I was born and raised in America, a full-blooded ABC.  I have no real connection to Kobayashi besides the fact that I look more like him than Chestnut.

Am I the only Asian-American who hopes Kobayashi can reclaim his title?  Care to help explain my prejudice?  Does my attitude tarnish the cause and only reinforce the perception of perpetual foreigners and mixed allegiances?