By Steven L. Shields
The adage, "there is strength in numbers," is more than just old wisdom. It is a fact that has been proven time and again throughout history. I've had many experiences with this. Work goes faster when several people are involved. Tasks get completed by using everyone's strengths, be it physical or emotional.
An old joke asks, "How many Christians (or insert the name of your group) does it take to change a light bulb?" The answer may surprise you. Such a task requires at least four people. One to hold the ladder for safety, one to climb up and swap out the bulb and at least two to prepare the refreshments. Of course, it may sound silly, but sharing food in a group seems almost second nature to most of us.
I was thinking about this on Sunday morning during the worship service. I noticed a burned-out bulb in the ceiling. The question "Why do I attend church?" came to mind. The question can be asked of members of the Jewish faith, Buddhists, Muslims, etc. Why do you go?
The answers may vary. My Methodist friend says he goes to church so he can pray (But we can pray at home, too). Another friend says that only by going to church can he receive salvation. OK, I could argue, but we'll let these friends hold onto their answers in the current discussion. Several years ago, an acquaintance asked why he should become a Christian.
I countered by asking what his faith tradition might be. He said he was raised Buddhist. 'OK, fine, are you a good Buddhist?' I asked. He said he thought he was. He attended services and events frequently. He was generous in his charitable offerings.
I told him to be the best Buddhist he could be and forget about the all-to-common rhetoric we hear in Korea: "Jesus is heaven, Buddha is hell." I suspect people of other faith traditions would say similar things. Indeed, prayer and worship are essential to a life of faith. I won't argue with that. At least not during today's discussion.
But is that all there is? Go to the church (or temple, mosque, synagogue, etc.), say a prayer, listen for a while, give some money and then go home? Is that all there is? Is there nothing more profound, nothing more meaningful, nothing more personal?
The past two years have been difficult because of the pandemic. My church's Sunday routine was canceled. We usually had Sunday school classes in the morning, coffee for early arrivals, then worship. After worship, volunteers prepared lunch while the rest of us chatted, played with the kids, and enjoyed the company of friends. After lunch, many visited over coffee for a couple of hours. It made for a long day but one of great satisfaction as we shared life stories and talked about matters on our minds.
Jesus set many examples for how Christians ought to gather. There always seemed to be food. The wedding at Cana, the sermon on the plain, the sermon on the mount, the Passover meal before Jesus' crucifixion, the breakfast on the beach and the dinner on the road to Emmaus. Jesus and others talked, listened, learned, preached and ate. The Passover meal, called by Christians "the last supper," became the model for modern-day Eucharistic practices. However, in the first-century Christian church, such practice was much more than the token it is in modern churches.
Of course, the church ought to be doing more than worship or sharing meals. Jesus gave excellent models for service to others. Christian believers form a community among themselves, to be sure, but we all live in a broader community of people from all walks of life. Faith traditions vary, and education, jobs, and age groups are different. Each of us engages with several of these communities on any given day. Most people who I know are generous-spirited folks.
They engage in a wide assortment of good works for the benefit of others. One good friend is active in serving meals to the homeless. Another takes part in a service club (such as Rotary). Other community organizations appeal to people. They may not be focused on a higher or supernatural power, but a common purpose unites people. Through these various communities, we can pool all our resources for the better good. Those can be muscle, time, talent and money.
I am grateful for my faith community because it appeals to my inner being. But I also belong to and am grateful for other communities like the Royal Asiatic Society Korea ― a secular organization that brings people together around a common purpose: exploring the beauty of Korea's history, culture, arts, beliefs and so forth.
No matter what your community might be (religious, service club, interest group, drinking buddies, etc.), don't forget the value of being together. And after the past two years of the pandemic, getting together in person has never meant so much to so many.
Rev. Steven L. Shields (slshields@gmail.com) has lived in Korea for many years, beginning in the 1970s. He is president of the Royal Asiatic Society Korea. He served as copy editor of The Korea Times in 1977.
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An old joke asks, "How many Christians (or insert the name of your group) does it take to change a light bulb?" The answer may surprise you. Such a task requires at least four people. One to hold the ladder for safety, one to climb up and swap out the bulb and at least two to prepare the refreshments. Of course, it may sound silly, but sharing food in a group seems almost second nature to most of us.
I was thinking about this on Sunday morning during the worship service. I noticed a burned-out bulb in the ceiling. The question "Why do I attend church?" came to mind. The question can be asked of members of the Jewish faith, Buddhists, Muslims, etc. Why do you go?
The answers may vary. My Methodist friend says he goes to church so he can pray (But we can pray at home, too). Another friend says that only by going to church can he receive salvation. OK, I could argue, but we'll let these friends hold onto their answers in the current discussion. Several years ago, an acquaintance asked why he should become a Christian.
I countered by asking what his faith tradition might be. He said he was raised Buddhist. 'OK, fine, are you a good Buddhist?' I asked. He said he thought he was. He attended services and events frequently. He was generous in his charitable offerings.
I told him to be the best Buddhist he could be and forget about the all-to-common rhetoric we hear in Korea: "Jesus is heaven, Buddha is hell." I suspect people of other faith traditions would say similar things. Indeed, prayer and worship are essential to a life of faith. I won't argue with that. At least not during today's discussion.
But is that all there is? Go to the church (or temple, mosque, synagogue, etc.), say a prayer, listen for a while, give some money and then go home? Is that all there is? Is there nothing more profound, nothing more meaningful, nothing more personal?
The past two years have been difficult because of the pandemic. My church's Sunday routine was canceled. We usually had Sunday school classes in the morning, coffee for early arrivals, then worship. After worship, volunteers prepared lunch while the rest of us chatted, played with the kids, and enjoyed the company of friends. After lunch, many visited over coffee for a couple of hours. It made for a long day but one of great satisfaction as we shared life stories and talked about matters on our minds.
Jesus set many examples for how Christians ought to gather. There always seemed to be food. The wedding at Cana, the sermon on the plain, the sermon on the mount, the Passover meal before Jesus' crucifixion, the breakfast on the beach and the dinner on the road to Emmaus. Jesus and others talked, listened, learned, preached and ate. The Passover meal, called by Christians "the last supper," became the model for modern-day Eucharistic practices. However, in the first-century Christian church, such practice was much more than the token it is in modern churches.
Of course, the church ought to be doing more than worship or sharing meals. Jesus gave excellent models for service to others. Christian believers form a community among themselves, to be sure, but we all live in a broader community of people from all walks of life. Faith traditions vary, and education, jobs, and age groups are different. Each of us engages with several of these communities on any given day. Most people who I know are generous-spirited folks.
They engage in a wide assortment of good works for the benefit of others. One good friend is active in serving meals to the homeless. Another takes part in a service club (such as Rotary). Other community organizations appeal to people. They may not be focused on a higher or supernatural power, but a common purpose unites people. Through these various communities, we can pool all our resources for the better good. Those can be muscle, time, talent and money.
I am grateful for my faith community because it appeals to my inner being. But I also belong to and am grateful for other communities like the Royal Asiatic Society Korea ― a secular organization that brings people together around a common purpose: exploring the beauty of Korea's history, culture, arts, beliefs and so forth.
No matter what your community might be (religious, service club, interest group, drinking buddies, etc.), don't forget the value of being together. And after the past two years of the pandemic, getting together in person has never meant so much to so many.
Rev. Steven L. Shields (slshields@gmail.com) has lived in Korea for many years, beginning in the 1970s. He is president of the Royal Asiatic Society Korea. He served as copy editor of The Korea Times in 1977.
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