Drowning Out the Sound of Our Demise

By no means am I a cultural expert, especially concerning the culture in which I currently live. But I do try to notice things and observe what exists around me. I struggle with this observation, though, because so often it turns to judgment and furthermore, I haven't decided for myself when it is or is not ok to judge a culture. Allowance for cultural variety and regard for higher morals or ideals do not easily compliment each other and I tend to fall off one side of the horse or the other. For now, my goal is simply to question. I can't come to conclusions and I can't pretend to understand the way people live around me, but I can pay attention and ask questions.

Since moving here, I have started to think about the ways in which people observe death and question whether we can gain insight into the spiritual health of a people through their customs for the passing away of life. It started last fall when I came across a funeral and wrote the following:

Death is a loud and noisy thing when it does not offer hope for eternity. When we do not acknowledge what is truly taking place – that a soul has left this world for the next, either to enjoy an eternity of satisfactory fulfillment and peace or to face eternal and excruciating separation from God – all of the ritual we produce is nothing more than empty, meaningless, destructive, sinister noise. All of the memories, all of grief, all of the talk are nothing more than smoke to cover the eyes of the living, satiating the screams inside them with clattering numbness.

Yesterday, I witnessed my first funeral in East Asia. The empty gaudiness of is made my soul sick. From what I’ve seen, funerals here are no time for meditation or reflection on life and its meaning. They are a time of loud and showy distraction from reality. In this society of disbelief in any higher deity, or for that matter, in any higher meaning, moral, or reality, death has been reduced to a crowded tent in the middle of the street, filled with neon lights, karaoke singers, and bored looking passers-by. Women put on make-up at a table and attempt to look grieved. Family shuffle through the music selection, picking songs that seem appropriate for the memory of the departed.

Christ said, “Blessed are those who mourn.” In this context, in this society, I take those words to mean, blessed are those capable of mourning. Humanity lives brokenness and thus to be fully human, we must know how to mourn it. If we don’t acknowledge our brokenness on any other given day of our lives, death, at least, is a time for our nature to slap us in the face. How wrong not to mourn when such a beating takes place! How can you declare with Paul, “Where, O Death, is your sting?” if you cannot feel death’s knife piercing your heart?

When a people are religious it at least enables them to realize what takes place in death; they are more fully human in their acknowledgment of the eternal and desire to touch the holy. The East Asians need something that is going to make them aware of their own human nature. A prick that will teach them to mourn this existence and to yearn for release from death’s sting. They need something that will force them to turn off the noise machines, to forgo the glittering lights, to leave behind the show, and to bleed with reality for once. To scream in the night for rescue as the noise of distraction is left behind and the heavy silence of eternity settles in their hearts. For no noise we frail humans create can drown out the roar of an eternity without God. But what is more, that awful roar of hell cannot overcome the glorious and surrounding chorus of Jesus Christ’s triumph. The crack of death’s back on Christ’s empty tomb is a deafening sound that echoes throughout time and space, even to the back alleys of my little neighborhood.

Let us pray that it is heard from our lips every time we open our mouths.

There's Nothing You Have That I Need

"16th of June, nine 0 five, door bell rings
Man at the door says if I want to stay alive a bit longer
There's a few things I need you to know. Three
Coming from a long line of traveling sales people on my mother's side
I wasn't gonna buy just anyone's cockatoo
So why would I invite a complete stranger into my home
Would you?
These days are better than that
These days are better than that
Every day I die again, and again I'm reborn
Every day I have to find the courage
To walk out into the street
With arms out
Got a love you can't defeat
Neither down or out
There's nothing you have that I need
I can breathe
Breathe now
16th of June, Chinese stocks are going up
And I'm coming down with some new Asian virus
Ju Ju man, Ju Ju man
Doc says you're fine, or dying
Please
Nine 0 nine, St John Divine, on the line, my pulse is fine
But I'm running down the road like loose electricity
While the band in my head plays a striptease
The roar that lies on the other side of silence
The forest fire that is fear so deny it
Walk out into the street
Sing your heart out
The people we meet
Will not be drowned out
There's nothing you have that I need
I can breathe
Breathe now
Yeah, yeah
We are people borne of sound
The songs are in our eyes
Gonna wear them like a crown
Walk out, into the sunburst street
Sing your heart out, sing my heart out
I've found grace inside a sound
I found grace, it's all that I found
And I can breathe
Breathe now"
- Breathe, by U2 (Thank you for this song, Bono!)

Droves of Filipino Women

Recently, I was traveling with my friend Sarah in Hong Kong. We were walking through Central on our way to ride the Peak Tram and we came across swaths of Filipino women sitting on pieces of newspaper in bus terminals, parks, and church steps. There were literally hundreds of them everywhere and we could not figure out what they were doing, especially since they were calmer, politer, and better dressed than prostitutes or the homeless tend to be and they seemed to have a strong sence of community amongst themselves as they read, played cards, or styled their hair. We researched it once we returned home and this is what we found. Yet another amazing situation of Asian distress which breaks my heart. After reading this, Hong Kong's sheen started to wear off a little and I realized that while Hong Kong's wealth may far exceed my city or other cities in this part of the world, it might not be too different from the rest conerning its inability to care for the weakest in society. Immigration is rough for all involved, but hardship doesn't have to be a done deal.

http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9C0CE2D61F39F93BA1575BC0A966958260
http://ezinearticles.com/?Women-of-Faith---Hong-Kongs-Filipino-Domestic-Helpers&id=1868537

Fruit Stand Reality Check

I went to buy some apples from my regular fruit stand this afternoon and starting thinking about the physical difficulties I am facing here in Asia. My fruit seller has lazy eyes and decaying ears and I buy his fruit not because it is the best, but rather because the man stirs up compassion within me. I don't know what causes it or if it's really as bad as I think, but the edges of his ears are often black and wilting.

My heart often breaks as I think about the physical conditions of those living around me, but today I realized I am not too different from them. The harsh environment of this city created by both natural factors and the falleness of man is taking a toll on all of us whether it is my lungs, the fruit sellers ears, the grandma with no teeth bent over double, or the student with gray hairs. The lives of this city's citizens mirror the buildings surrounding them as they crumble under acid rain even as they are built.

My body often hurts here, but today's trip to the fruit stand was the beginning of peace and maybe even pride in the pain. I am starting to say, "It's ok" and bow my head because how can I expect to be different from the people I live with? They are in pain, too. Afterall, their ears decay. If the people I live with suffer, why shouldn't I? Of course I long for healing and am seeking medical assistance, but my soul is realizing that suffering alongside the residents of this crumbling city increases my love and pity for them.

Two months ago, I was convicted to pursue further indigenization and maybe this is it. I don't want to presume anything, but just maybe this is how my Father wants me to identify with this corner of the world.

A Prayer

My body is weak. Never before have I struggled to have energy and perseverance, but now the promise of my young years is proving to be a trick. Remind me that I do not have any rights, except the right to be your daughter. Nothing is owed me, yet you choose to love me tenderly. Let me know of your compassion even when breathing brings anxiety, and let me rest in the joy of a soul at peace in you eternally.

A Thousand Questions

I can't watch this short film without getting choked up, and maybe even crying. Since high school, I have wrestled with how to hold the beauty of this world and life in one hand and the destruction and despair we all witness in the other. I still don't have any great answers, but I am learning to keep an eye out for those who do. This movie strikes especially close to home because the longer I live in Asia, the more I become convinced that understanding the Creator's larger story of redemption is the only way to accept the majesty and horribleness of existence without succumbing to one or the other and furthermore, that once we understand the story, we are propelled into playing out the story, being given roles and purposes in the advancement of redemption.

50 Things I Like About My Current City

1. The view from my living room window seat
2. Porch nights with my roommate
3. Starbucks mugs are actually cute here
4. Reading ridiculous Asian fashion magazines while eating raisin zhou on slow mornings with Talia
5. Sitting on the little blue square of foam at the front of the party bus because all the seats are gone
6. Christmas parties with brothers and sisters
7. Watching the building under construction across the way get higher and higher every month - how tall will it be in the end anyways?
8. The blind erhu players downtown
9. Watching people do random stuff on their roofs
10. The fabric market in all its craziness
11. The bright lights downtown
12. The skittles building
13. Crazy taxi rides with the windows rolled down on a hot summer night
14. Yummy street food in my neighborhood
15. Carlsberg drafts at the beer garden
16. How quiet the tea house is (most of the time)
17. Pork strips at Asijen Ramen
18. The graffiti art neighborhood near the arts school
19. The red sparkle hot pot restaurant
20. McDonald's chocolate sundays
21. Looking at the city lights from my roof
22. The fresh produce market across the street
23. The lack of other foreigners
24. Cameron and Ben, some of the most awesome little kids
25. The foster kids I get to play with
26. Headwashes are brilliant and cheap
27. Being able to bring my own DVD to watch at the pedicure place
28. Hong Ya Dong - especially the pirate ship and sitting outside at the bar in nice weather
29. Bowling
30. It makes me happy that they have an ice skating rink, but it is a horrible rink, so I'm conflicted on this
31. Oh my gosh, how could I have forgotten about it until number thirty-one?? I LOVE the flower market!
32. The little gang of neighborhood girls who have become my friends
33. The daily surprise of never knowing what interesting thing has appeared in the square over night... especially when a circus comes through
34. The old ladies dance club
35. One song dance parties in the elevator
36. Back room DVD sales
37. Playing Russian roulette with every bottle of red wine I buy
38. Watching fireworks hit the building next store
39. 奶奶们
40. Flying kites at the point
41. Buying fresh mangos, bananas, and apples at the fruit stand
42. Cheap massages

Ok, so maybe I really can only think of 39 things, although I have been working on this list for five days. I will keep adding to it, though. I trust that eventually I will make fifty.