By Jason Lim
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Even before he became a best-selling author, he always presented a very gentle, likable persona. During my infrequent attendance of Sunday services at the temple, usually via parental coercion, I heard him speak once or twice. I don't quite recall the substance of his sermons, but they were gentle, harmless and soothing. Exactly like his books.
I have to admit that I wasn't a fan of his books, although I actually have signed copies of both his Korean and English versions, thanks to my faithful parents. His writing always seemed to lack substance and felt almost like a soothing balm without any sting that you lather over a slight burn or superficial cut. The initial words seemed to promise a deeper insight. But when you delved deeper, you noticed that it was merely an exercise in circumlocution that reveled in the superficial beauty of its own language. A plastic flower that glowed.
However, you have to admit that his message resonated with a huge number of people. People wanted and needed his pretty, bite-sized messages. His books also apparently helped many to feel encouraged, inspired, and supported. Ven. Haemin wasn't selling Zen or enlightenment in the traditional sense of Buddhism. He was selling a temporary emotional high, a moment of vicarious spirituality, and even a sense of feel-good achievement at empathizing with the noble, beautiful words.
In a word, he was repackaging and selling New Age again. You might remember the nineties when Oprah took over the TV airwaves, and books from Marianne Williamson, Neale Donald Walsch, Gary Zukab, Deepak Chopra, and others were perennial best sellers that found huge following. Don Miguel Ruiz' "The Four Agreements" and Eckhart Tolle's "The Power of Now" are still widely relevant and have become an industry unto themselves. I've seen many of them up close, and they are truly masterful speakers and story tellers.
Essentially, these spiritual teachers filled the human need to want to connect to one another and experience something bigger than themselves. I believe the need is real and always present. However, New Age providers filled that need with slick, polished products that didn't ask too much of the buyers. It allowed you to attain an emotional high based on a fleeting glimpse into what seemed to be deep insights and spiritual truths but didn't ask you to actually make the difficult and painstaking journey to change your own habits. This may be harsh, but much of what passed as spirituality was nothing but emotional pornography, with fast glimpses into seemingly enlightening aphorisms that stimulated your sense of self but ended up being something akin to a drug-induced high. Sooner or later, you came down. It was definitely a product for the first world audience.
This was the role that Ven. Haemin filled in Korea. He wasn't selling enlightenment and the accompanying "practice." Those are hard. What he was selling was much easier: New Age but rebranded in Korea as "healing." He was literally selling a soothing, language balm for the tired masses living in an impersonal, mechanical world. He had the right bona fides that Korea loved as a Princeton and Harvard graduate with a personable but not too burdensome appearance. He presented himself like a fluffy teddy bear. He let himself be productized into an "idol" for pseudo-Zen.
I think that was his downfall. The immediate reason could have been the TV program that showed off his modest apt. (for Seoul at least) and the meditation app that he was hawking. The accusations of hypocrisy and greed against him are themselves pretty hypocritical and hollow for the most part. Expecting a Buddhist monk to survive as a penniless mendicant is not realistic today, especially in light of the huge amount of monies that religions of all stripes collect from their faithful based on promises of transactional favors of a supernatural nature.
Ven. Haemin ultimately fell from grace because he was all about his image. The superficiality of his message didn't have the depth to cushion him from his missteps. You know what? What happened isn't probably a bad thing for him. If he is truly a sincere practitioner, he will use this as a valuable lesson for his own enlightenment journey and emerge much wiser and more resilient. When he does, he will assuredly have many people waiting for his gentle guidance.
Jason Lim (jasonlim@msn.com) is a Washington, D.C.-based expert on innovation, leadership and organizational culture.
