Minjung theology
Anthony Jermaine Ross
January 24, 2012
Summary
Understanding Minjung theology, according to Choi Hee An, requires a grasp of two essential terms: minjung and han. Minjung combines two Chinese characters, min + jung. Min means “the people” and jung, in this use, means “the masses”. This term seems to have originated as the Joseon (Yi) dynasty consolidated its power base by organizing the people of Korea into a kind of caste system. The ruling class was called yangban and the common people who were ruled by the yangban were called minjung. Minjung identity begins with subjection to external power without recourse, reciprocity or mutuality.
The term minjung may invite comparisons to Marx’s proletariat. Choi points out, however, that minjung differs significantly from Marx’s worker defined in relation to labor, capital and production. By contrast, minjung are defined historically and trans-historically. Minjung identity embraces a spectrum of humanity that transcends Korean ethnicity as well as material reality and present power configurations. Minjung are “economically poor, politically weak, socially deprived, but culturally and historically rich and powerful.” Minjung are not “people who are only poor, weak, and oppressed.” They are also the custodians of indigenous Korean culture despite oppression at the hands of elites “who have manipulated the political, economic, and educational system for their own interests (200).” It is in this sense that minjung refers to any people caught “in the middle of war, poverty, the desert, and any other form of suffering.” Although minjung are oppressed in their world, they nevertheless “open new ways and create new hopes for transforming this world with justice and love (201).”
Han, on the other hand, is a more complex term. It refers to the experiences of individuals as well as the entire nation over centuries. Suh Nam-dong, an early pioneer of Minjung theology says that han is a “yearning for justice to be done” that is, at the same time, the “suppressed, amassed, and condensed experience of oppression” that “forms a kind of ‘lump’ in one’s spirit.” Suh offers four coordinates to help understand what is meant by the word han:
1) Koreans have endured invasions by surrounding powerful nations so that the very experience of the Korean nation has come to be understood as han.
2) Koreans have continually suffered the tyranny of rulers, thus they think of their existence as Baeksong [common people].
3) Also, under Confucianism’s strict imposition of laws and customs discriminating against women, the existence of women was han itself.
4) At a certain point in Korean history, about half of the population were registered as hereditary slaves and were treated as property rather than as people of the nation. These people thought of their lives as han.
Choi goes on to say that while han is “defeat, grudges, unresolved resentments, tenacity of life, frustrated hope, the collapsed feeling of pain, letting go, resentful bitterness, the wounded heart, and inner wounds,” han is nevertheless “minjung’s energy, the force of liberation and justice, the ‘transforming of spiritual, sociopolitical, and cultural consciousness and movement (202).” The purpose of this energy, therefore, is to fill the oppressors life with minjung’s han until the cry for justice is heard and satisfied.
Historically, minjung theology can be traced to industrial evangelism in the 1970s. During Park Jung Hee’s dictatorship, young Christian evangelists joined industrial workers for periods ranging from six months to a year. As evangelists worked along side laborers, both were exposed to “enormous injustice and discovered unimaginable working conditions and abuses (203).” As a result, Christian groups collaborated with the urban poor through weekly meetings in which workers learned about human rights and organizing as laborers. This period of collaboration taught the evangelists that their message would only be meaningful when interpreted in light of minjung’s experience of han in their daily lives. By the 1980s the minjung movement participated in a series of popular uprisings that succeeded in raising serious questions within Korean culture about the benefits of capitalism. As a consequence, the Christian gospel understood within the minjung paradigm played a key role in uniting Korean people in democratic struggle across class lines not only to battle capitalism as a form of imperialism, but also to work toward reunifying the nation. Since the emergence of minjung theology in the seventies, the movement has grown beyond ideological battles between capitalists and Marxists. Today, the spread of global capitalism provokes the minjung movement to engage a multiplicity of issues from foreign workers’ human rights to gender equity.
The breadth of minjung identity is an expression of Korea’s deep cultural roots. Therefore, minjung theology is not a mere translation of western orthodoxy but an expression of long held cultural understanding developed in the crucible of colonialism and resistance. The Fourteen Minjung Movements, for example, describes Korean struggles against foreign interference and hierarchical oppression that took place long before Christianity arrived in Korea. Nevertheless, minjung theology interprets the evetnts described in that account as a series of messianic movements. In this way, minjung theology remains an expression of Korean indigenous culture despite the fact that the earliest missionaries to arrive in Korea came promoting a western religious and economic agenda. Minjung, however, never worshiped a Christian god in place of their indigenous diety. Instead minjung Christians in Korea worship Hanunim, the Sky God, the unbound and transcendent one “who has lived and worked with the Korean people from the beginning of the Koreans’ existence.” Further, the Holy Spirit is liberated from western metaphysics in minjung theology. Minjung understands “holy Spirit as holy spirits and ghosts who have lived in their everyday lives with ‘omnipresent’ and ‘omnipotent’ power.” Therefore “minjung sees this holy Spirit as their spirits whom they have worshipped and served and to whom they have talked and listened (206).” Minjung Christology also retains a characteristically Korean approach in that Jesus Christ is understood as savior because his openness to suffering provides others with opportunity to be humane. In other words, the person who is abused plays the role of savior because “the act of saving this person is the act of being saved by God (207).”
The confidence to adapt has endowed minjung theology with considerable flexibility. Because it understands the Jesus-event as concerning the possibility of change in the present life, minjung can participate in every aspect of culture, even political satire like the mask dance, which is rooted in shamanistic ritual. Today’s challenge, ironically, has to do with maintaining the authenticity and flexibility of the minjung perspective even as its success tempts second and third generation minjung theologians to seek credibility from academic institutions. Minjung theologians wish to offer the best of their theology while avoiding becoming another theological ghetto. Only time will tell.
Striking Issue
I continue to be intrigued by han. What captivates me about this complicated word is that it offers an additional perspective that can easily get overlooked in ethics and in activism. By focusing on the actual experience of oppressed people, Han prioritizes the relationship between harm and hurt. In minjung theology, sin is not treated as an ontological problem that complicates access to ultimate reality, eternity, heaven or whatever. Sin does not fog up the windows of one’s interior castle so that the light of the divine cannot shine into or out of the soul in the minjung paradigm. At the same time, the term han is not a mere description of oppressive social structures either. Instead, minjung theology describes a new reality that redefines every aspect of a person’s life as a result of harm done to them whether or not legal justice is served or verbal apologies are uttered. The term han gives language to the real presence of damage and the persistence of pain and hurt that oppressed persons are forced to live with until han is resolved in relationship with the wronged party.
This goes beyond original sin, of course, but it also leads ethics past the threshold of structural oppression and inside the labyrinth of human experience that can serve as an entryway leading to genuine community life. Often, ethics and theology help to describe structural oppression and assist individuals and organizations to play a role in addressing an aspect of oppressive structures. Individuals and groups working toward justice hope that such efforts will result in less oppression for suffering people and reduced guilt and cooption for reluctant and indirect oppressors. Still, many who address unjust systems do so without an empathetic relationship to those who suffer within the structural injustice. In fact, persons addressing structural oppression are often quite intimate with and well adjusted to, if not greatly benefitted by oppressive structures. Without being aware fully aware of the meaning of charitable acts, activists and charitable persons and institutions face a paradox in which they remain quite loyal to the oppressive structures from which they seek to rescue the oppressed. This is creates more problems than we can deal with here. What I would like to say, however, is that understanding han may provide a way to strengthen the fragile ties between guilt-ridden beneficiaries of oppression and oppressed people. The reason that I would like to explore this possibility is not due to sympathy for those suffering from liberal-spiritual blackmail (although I am not entirely without sympathy). Rather, I would like to find out whether han can provide us with an opportunity to deal with each other as family- not as justice issues.
Because han points directly to the wounds that are left from human contact, understanding han can help ethicists and activist across our contexts form patterns of relationship that transcend the bare materialism of our current social and political environment. For the foreseeable future it will be necessary to continue to promote just legislation and remove unjust laws. But at the same time, a determination to resolve han can take us in a more fruitful direction. I suspect that if there is not a strong push to deal with one another on a level that goes beyond the mechanics of personal security, public policy and rights advocacy, then it may be impossible to address poverty, militarism and racism in a meaningful and lasting way. However, if we match activism with a real commitment to healing peoples’ wounds and to repair social and psychological damage of all kinds, then we may see an improvement in the quality of human communities where we live and work. We might transcend the materialist base of neo-liberal economics and its accompanying ethics and form protecting and healing communities dedicated to solidarity based on a new history of resolution accomplished and being accomplished, resolved and being resolved.
Questions
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- Where does one start resolving han? Do we seek first to address interpersonal wounds done to ourselves or committed by us?
- Where in your environment do you perceive damage that needs to be repaired? What is it that keeps you from seeking to repair that damage?
- How does it feel to consider that people needs you to play a role in healing their wounds rather than or in addition to helping to pass a congressional bill addressing a structural problem?
From Pete LaVoie
The death of Kim Jong Il has given me cause to think about how we treat the demise of those we dislike. I am put off by the generally celebratory reaction of so many people. Yes, KJI was a cruel dictator responsible for untold numbers of deaths, mass starvation, and the dismal state of his country. The world is likely better off now that he is dead. However, we undermine our own humanity when we celebrate the death of another person.
In September 2001, Americans watched on TV as hundreds of pro-Bin Laden demonstrators celebrated in the streets. We were horrified by the violence of the 9/11 attacks and mystified by the elation of so many people at our own suffering, celebrating the deaths of American citizens. Nearly a decade later, Bin Laden was dead at the hands of American navy seals. People around the world watched on TV as Americans celebrated in the streets. The world is probably a safer, better place now that Bin Laden is dead. But again, we undermine our humanity and any semblance of moral authority when we react in this way to violence toward others.
A better response is solemnity. We ought to reflect on the injustices of these men and learn from their crimes. But violence can only beget more violence. If we think ourselves superior to our enemies, we must not become like them.
–
Peter L. LaVoie
Retribution in Justice and Love
I want to flesh out and play with an idea I had in our small group discussion on November 11. This was the discussion where we were talking about Penn State and what is the most just thing to do, what is the most loving thing to do and if there is a difference, why? In thinking about how enacting love and justice differ, I came to the idea of retribution. In this case, I am thinking of retribution as something done or given as punishment for something an individual has done.
Retribution may be part of a just response toward somebody who is privileged and has done something “wrong”. In our society, I think there is an expectation for retribution. But could there be retribution in a loving response, even to somebody who was privileged? At the same time, could retribution ever be considered a just response for somebody who is oppressed?
This line of thinking opens up a whole bunch of questions. Who decides who is oppressed or privileged? Could it ever be productive to consider privilege in a situational manner or should it always be considered cumulative over a lifetime? Is there a hierarchy of privilege? These questions make me wonder if this is a productive line of thought in the first place, but I guess my intent is mostly to question the helpfulness of retribution in contributing to the kind of society in which I want to live. So what is something “wrong”? I guess I would come at that backwards. Based on class discussion on October 14, I came up with a definition of virtue.
Virtue: something generally agreed to be good
- in a society or
- by future societies or
- by societies considered to be good by other societies
that a person has determined through personal experience and learning that is then put into action.
So then something is “wrong” if it violates mores or rules in any of the above points.
I do not claim to have this all sorted out, but wanted to share what I was thinking about and hopefully open up some dialogue.
Grateful for you
The other night at dinner my 16-year-old daughter asked me how you convince someone who doesn’t believe in God that Christianity is true. I thought about it for awhile and said, “I don’t think I would try to convince someone of that. It doesn’t matter to me if they think Christianity is true. But if they asked me about it, I might tell them how I experienced God in our church and with our church people.” Thinking about ethics class, I went on, “But I think the best way to tell them is just to live a good life. And if they weren’t living a good life they might look and wonder, what makes that life so good? What does that person know, or believe, or trust in, that makes their life so good?” She said, “Most of the people in my school would just say, ‘What does that person have that makes their life so good?’ Because the people with good grades have nice clothes. And the people who are good at sports have lots of friends. The people who have more get more. Those are the things most people care about at my school.”
This is the leap, isn’t it?
How can the church (or more broadly, people of goodwill) possibly compete with the vast corporate/advertising/media/capitalist/military conglomerate for the hearts and minds (dare I say, souls) of the people?
Just one by one, I think. One relationship at a time. One life lived well, here and now, in community with others seeking to change unethical systems.
I commend all of you in this class for your examples of living well and being good. You have become my heroes in the faith for your courageous choices to do what’s right in your little corner of the world. I will remember you as my models when I meet ethical issues of racism, heterosexism, ageism, end-of-life, standards of beauty, restorative justice, food and consumption choices, marriage and family, grief, abuse, gender, power, violence, war, protest, children’s rights, classism, sacrifice and love. I am grateful for you.
radical individualism and cultural divide
Our conversations in class recently regarding gender roles, sexual politics and racism seem to me rooted in the supremely American idea that each of us, and only each of us, is responsible for right behavior. We hold this truth to be self-evident: that you, and only you, are master of your own destiny. And so we take it personally when oppression is pointed out, we see racism only in its one-to-one aspect, and we completely miss how we, all together, are complicit in perpetuating evil.
Newt Gingrich’s recent statements that poor kids ought to clean bathrooms is a case in point. As awful as that statement is, it resonates with a lot of people. Here’s a link to an article in Forbes I would commend.
http://www.forbes.com/sites/quickerbettertech/2011/12/12/if-i-was-a-poor-black-kid/
The author makes the same point, in only slightly less inflammatory language. It is the replies posted after the article where I find hope.
A Gallup poll from some time ago notes that those who embrace the Tea Party movement are much less likely than others to see discrimination as a threat to the nation’s future and a hurdle for minorities. More than three in four say racial minorities have equal job opportunities; half of non-Tea Party supporters agree. They overwhelmingly reject the notion that economic disparities between blacks and whites are mainly the result of discrimination. Nearly half say blacks lag in jobs, income and housing “because most African Americans just don’t have the motivation or willpower to pull themselves up out of poverty.
And here’s a gem from an anonymous blogger: ”I have respect for Hispanic people because they are willing to work, they don’t sit around begging for Affirmative Action or a handout. They will stand on the side of the road looking for work. I went to Home Depot this morning and there were about 40 Hispanics out there asking people do they have any work for them to do. I didn’t see any black person standing out there looking for work. It seems like Hispanics have a better work ethics (sic) than blacks, many blacks seem to be outright lazy.”
The mythology of America is that by your own grit and determination you can get ahead in life. The ideology holds high the value of the individual, of hard work, of the ability to overcome odds by your own effort. The argument assumes that some (presumably all) of the downtrodden (read: oppressed people) can and will come to the conclusion on their own that their social situation is what is holding them back and that, once they realize this, they can and should summon the internal fortitude necessary to overcome the odds. Poverty is an exacerbating influence, but in the end, it is cultural differences (read: reluctance to work) that seals the fate of most.
How do we move beyond radical individualism that blinds us to our collective evil, while at the same time retaining personal agency?
Ethical Eating: Stewardship, Trusteeship, Fellowship
While researching my final paper, I came across a quotation that I really like. In an article appearing in The Christian Century in 1950, James Wyker says, “The church might sharpen our conscience to the point where we recognize farming as stewardship, distribution as trusteeship and consumption as fellowship.” I think the church (or places of worship in general) has yet to sharpen their conscience to that point. If faithful people did, however, begin to take seriously their relationship to food production, perhaps a new plan could take root that would give more people better access to healthier food.
I am really passionate about ethical eating but I also know that I do not “get it right” all the time. What I mean by that is, even though I do not think it is right, for example, to buy convenience food from huge corporations, I do, especially if it is on sale or I have a coupon. At the end of the day, however, falling short in that way is not going to make too much of a difference in the world. Instead, with regard to ethical eating, I would rather spend my time cooking tasty healthful food from sustainable ingredients and sharing it with people and working at the policy level. A good recipe goes a lot farther toward changing somebody’s diet than a well-reasoned argument. Similarly, working toward eliminating subsidies for crops like corn is going to make a difference in how much healthy food is available to all. Government subsidies on corn are at least partially responsible for the prevalence of high fructose corn syrup in our diets in the United States as well as our habit of multiple sodas a day and its accompanying obesity.
Changes in our unbalanced food system are not going to happen overnight, but I think it is important for people of faith to work toward the goal of healthier diets for all. Let us broaden both our understanding and practices of stewardship, trusteeship and fellowship. Let us work toward helping more people have better access to healthier food.
Inside Out
By Kathy Huber
“And [Jesus] said to him, ‘Why do you ask me about what is good? There is only one who is good….” (Matt. 19:17)
Nick Hornby’s character, Dr, Katie Carr, wanted desperately to believe she was a good person. After all, she reasoned, she was a doctor. I used to assume I was a good person. After all, I was one of those easy babies who grew into a good girl…. Do I still think I’m a good person? Now, not so much–I have to conclude that living a life that didn’t dare color outside the lines is completely inadequate. My orthodox Christian belief, worship and private devotional practices wilted under the gaze of Yoder’s Jesus, who asks for the whole-hearted commitment of my stuff as a condition of discipleship. De La Torres reminded me that I occupy a place of unearned privilege in society, and that if my actions do not help bring justice, then I cannot claim to be acting ethically. And, I am not really qualified to determine what is just, either.
Even thinking about my conformity to social and legal rules: how much is true ethical goodness, and how much is complicity in power structures in order to avoid feeling disgrace shame? A life lived in pursuit of security and comfort is merely self-serving. Somehow, I have to agree with the psalmist who stated that “all our righteousness is as filthy rags.” Once again, my high horse is only a stick pony.
The way this course is helping me to transform my mind, first of all, is in how I think about what is good, or to say it another way, how to truly practice my faith. Yoder’s assertion that “the purpose of the church is to exist” had the effect of calming a growing restlessness that perhaps the church is a lost cause and it would be better stewardship to find other organizations to take my time and money. “It’s not about me” — a suitable mantra. Yoder taught me that social reconciliation – at its very heart, is the true meaning of the mystery of faith – the reconciliation of outsiders and insiders. It chips away at the deeply imbedded notion of “salvation” as being one’s personal decision to believe and I am being converted beyond individualistic faith, even past “community” to an ever broader vision of what God is about.
Considering the Smedes Article
We never did take the chance to discuss the article by Lewis Smedes in class, titled “Respect for Covenant.”
I’ve had some difficulties with this article. On the surface, the arguments that he makes regarding the seventh commandment make sense. His discussion of marriage as a covenant resonates with my perspectives on marriage. It is, indeed, more than a contract. Marriage is an agreement that is holy, that incorporates the fullness of being of those who enter it. For me, this is represented in the presence of friends and family. In community, the central force in my understanding of religion and church, two people covenant with one another to join their lives. I’m with Smedes on this one.
The dating of his article (1983) becomes apparent near the end, when he makes a link between marriage and the kingdom of God. He writes, “The line of reasoning goes this way: Families are for the Kingdom of God. Marriage is for families. And therefore, since sex is for marriage, sex is for the Kingdom of God.” Does this vision of the Kingdom of God include those who choose not to marry? What of those that so many of the church refuse to allow not to marry? I found myself writing in the margins, “Here, potential anti-gay marriage argument.”
The Kingdom of God must be open to all, as must our definition of “families.” Family extends far beyond bloodlines and marriage vows. Many of us choose who to include in our understanding of family. Some approach marriage with the understanding that the core of marriage is spiritual and devotional, not about sex, and choose to keep their marriages open to other potential partners. Can this not, in this age of post-modernism, also be the broadening of family?
I freely acknowledge that a covenantal relationship in all of its sacredness works best for many by including an element of sexual faithfulness. But, I do not agree with Smedes that it be a requirement for every marriage. Nor do I agree that marriage is the only appropriate outlet. I have personal experience of committed relationships that are better maintained without the overarching connotations of marriage.
To me, the spirit of the seventh commandment is one of respect of our own definitions of covenantal relationships, our own and others.
(submitted by Erin Margit Dajka)
my work and daily ethics conversations and heartbreak
I am writing this and realizing that although i am disappointed that I missed our last ethics class, I now see that i am in the daily mix of assisting others as they are attempting to decide on end of life perimeters for their loved ones. I was unable to come to class last friday the 16th, because i was needed to sit in on a care conference on a resident who was declining rapidly and his family was needing immediate guidance and support regarding end of life decision making. So I was in the throes of ethics and decision making and i was unable to come and discuss ethics in class. I found myself reflecting on the daily concerns of my job and feeling very overwhelmed and burned out this weekend as I reflected on how little i can really do to relieve the grief and suffering that families and residents face and live through on a day to day basis. I felt powerless and not too helpful this past friday as i watched a spouse break down and express her hope that her husband could just have his physical and mental anguish be relieved as he nears the end of his dementia journey. I listen and advocate for the medications that can assist and then listen some more to the inner suffering that is so constant with family members who have witnessed the decline of their loved ones. I often do not know if our medical system serves those suffering well. i do know that there are certain MDs and nurse practitioners who are angels to me and go the extra mile to put everything in order to provide the most comfort possible to these people. But i am not sure who cares for their spirits and their souls as they enter this dark night of saying goodbye. I would hope that I as a seminarian who wants to provide ministry to others could see the need for this spiritual hope in grieving families. I do wonder if churches understand the need for ethical conversations regarding end of life and grief issues surrounding people with dementia and their families. It seems that I will hopefully bring forth these concerns in any future setting that i am involved with and that i will not let these issues of aging and dementia go voiceless in any internship setting that I am part of. I do know that i would like to develop more of a support group for myself and other staff as we deal with these ethical issues. I would postulate that seminary education should include more of practical ethics so that students could spend time digging into the issues that would be daily in the life of a congregation or the concerns that would come up in chaplaincy. i know that one semester of ethics has only touched upon concerns and that a second semester would have taken me deeper into my thoughts and feelings and how these would relate to religious ethics. I have often been perplexed as family members have requested things of me and my staff that have been outside of the law and yet have been understandable in the throes of their pain. I have had to maintain an even keel and provide a listening ear that can give the boundaries of my facility and my nursing license, while at the same time listening to their pain without judgement. It is not an easy task, and i often wonder if i will be able to do as well with congregational concerns. So, i leave with these thoughts in mind, that we are here to do no harm and to try to alleviate some of the misery that confronts us. I am not always sure that I do this and i hope that I could continue to learn from others the path of compassion and loving kindness so that i can be a calm presence as i attempt to minister to others. Peace. cwilson.
“The World Would Be Better Off Without Religion” – A debate
A few weeks ago, I caught about fifteen minutes of a debate by Intelligence Squared U.S. aired on Gary Eichten’s show on Minnesota Public Radio. The motion: “The World Would Be Better off Without Religion.”
In particular, I want to speak to A.C. Grayling’s closing remarks. He was arguing for the motion:
“It seems very unkind to say that, but alas, it’s just basically true that the religious outlook on the world has its roots, its origins in the beliefs, the superstitions of illiterate goatherds who lived up to 3,000 years ago. And however much religion reinvents itself and however much it tries to make us forget its history and however much it obscures the fact that it depends upon proselytizing very small children for its survival, despite all that, we have an opportunity to think again and afresh and to recognize that in order to live with the kind of hope, with the kind of responsibility, with the kind of love for our neighbor, which is essential for a world of peace.
We’ve got to do that hard work of choosing our morality, choosing our ethics, thinking about the principles of which we live, not borrowing it, not inheriting it, not having to conform to a set of doctrines about these things and a set of rituals which people very, very, very long time ago depended upon to do their thinking for them, but to think afresh, start again, and look at this world as a place where reason and human experience have to be our best, because they are in fact our only guides.”
Having just heard this as I pulled into the seminary parking lot, I was fuming as I walked into the building. How can he say that the ethics that comes out of religion are not those which can evoke reason and human experience. We carefully considered in this class the sources upon which Christian Ethics draws, and they do, indeed utilize everything that he has listed. Reason and human experience have their own axis, which intersects with that of tradition and scripture.
Religion adds to our ethical experience by providing us with tradition and scripture to guide us. More importantly, in religious community, we do not do the work of ethics alone. Instead, we turn to one another in our interpretations of all four sources.
The debate is something to take a look at if you’re curious. It’ll get you thinking, to say the least, as it did for me.
(submitted by Erin Margit Dajka)
