By Kim Ae-ran
There were 347 coal mining villages in 1988, but now only four remain in Korea. Among them, three villages will also be closed in the near future. The number of mining villages has declined, but some social problems that afflicted them in the past ― such as poverty, casino businesses, gambling and alcoholism ― still influence villagers.
When we recently visited Cheongjeondong Catholic Church in Jecheon for our mission, Fr. Barnabas Young-gin Kim introduced us to two books he wrote about briquettes: "Yeontan (Briquette) Diary," a collection of 47 pastoral essays and "Yeontan-nim (Mr. Briquette)," a collection of 61 poems written while experiencing the presence of God in coal mining villages such as Sabuk, Gohan, Jeongseon and Dogye in Gangwon Province.
"Yeontan" refers to perforated coal briquettes used for cooking and home heating. It was a popular means of fuel in Korea before switching to oil and gas boilers. Some people still use them, especially in rural areas.
Fr. Barnabas has also published, "God of 54 Liters of Flour," "God Who Became a Vending Machine," "Do You Wash Your Face Every Day," and "People in the Bible."
As the eldest of three sons and three daughters, he was born in Hoengseong in 1954. He entered the seminary at the age of 14 and was ordained as a priest in 1980. Following his military service, he served in coal mines and rural areas as well as in New York.
His mother, Teresa Myo-soon Choi, is a fifth-generation descendant of Fr. Thomas Yang-eop Choi, while his maternal uncle, Fr. Benedictus Ki-sik Choi, is the eighth priest descended from Fr. Yang-eop Choi. As a descendant of a martyr, his sister also joined the Congregation of "Sisters of the Blessed Korean Martyrs." She is currently serving as a missionary in Vietnam.
Fr. Barnabas experienced the constant presence of God in the poor environment of the coal mining villages as well as in the mountains he often hiked.
At first, he was not willing to accept a coal mining ministry, but he discovered that the mission for coal miners has become a stepping stone for him to be a humble, compassionate and benevolent priest. In the preface of "Mr. Briquette," he confesses:
"I confess, I don't know about poems. But poems knew me. I don't know about God. But God knew me. The reason I wrote poems … is because everything around me has known me since a long time ago. Everything around me has been my friend and my love. Those friends talked about themselves; they often talked about God. Let me tell you that a leaf of grass spoke of God and a piece of discarded briquettes made me feel God. So I wanted to write that story and feeling. When the person I love saw it, he called it poetry. Knowing that it was poetry, I dared to leave it in front of you."
Serving as a priest in coal mining villages, he often pondered "white briquettes" as a metaphor for a life dedicated to people:
White briquette
A briquette is black,
but a used briquette is white
When a briquette has been burned,
when all the work to be done is done,
a black briquette becomes white.
Looking at my gray hair,
a piece of white briquette comforts me,
saying, "You also worked hard like me!"
Without courage, I couldn't burn yet.
I put it out and lived only with my mouth,
pretending to be a white briquette.
The author is a member of the Daughters of St. Paul (fsp.pauline.or.kr.), living and giving the Good News to the world by means of social communication.
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When we recently visited Cheongjeondong Catholic Church in Jecheon for our mission, Fr. Barnabas Young-gin Kim introduced us to two books he wrote about briquettes: "Yeontan (Briquette) Diary," a collection of 47 pastoral essays and "Yeontan-nim (Mr. Briquette)," a collection of 61 poems written while experiencing the presence of God in coal mining villages such as Sabuk, Gohan, Jeongseon and Dogye in Gangwon Province.
"Yeontan" refers to perforated coal briquettes used for cooking and home heating. It was a popular means of fuel in Korea before switching to oil and gas boilers. Some people still use them, especially in rural areas.
Fr. Barnabas has also published, "God of 54 Liters of Flour," "God Who Became a Vending Machine," "Do You Wash Your Face Every Day," and "People in the Bible."
As the eldest of three sons and three daughters, he was born in Hoengseong in 1954. He entered the seminary at the age of 14 and was ordained as a priest in 1980. Following his military service, he served in coal mines and rural areas as well as in New York.
His mother, Teresa Myo-soon Choi, is a fifth-generation descendant of Fr. Thomas Yang-eop Choi, while his maternal uncle, Fr. Benedictus Ki-sik Choi, is the eighth priest descended from Fr. Yang-eop Choi. As a descendant of a martyr, his sister also joined the Congregation of "Sisters of the Blessed Korean Martyrs." She is currently serving as a missionary in Vietnam.
Fr. Barnabas experienced the constant presence of God in the poor environment of the coal mining villages as well as in the mountains he often hiked.
At first, he was not willing to accept a coal mining ministry, but he discovered that the mission for coal miners has become a stepping stone for him to be a humble, compassionate and benevolent priest. In the preface of "Mr. Briquette," he confesses:
"I confess, I don't know about poems. But poems knew me. I don't know about God. But God knew me. The reason I wrote poems … is because everything around me has known me since a long time ago. Everything around me has been my friend and my love. Those friends talked about themselves; they often talked about God. Let me tell you that a leaf of grass spoke of God and a piece of discarded briquettes made me feel God. So I wanted to write that story and feeling. When the person I love saw it, he called it poetry. Knowing that it was poetry, I dared to leave it in front of you."
Serving as a priest in coal mining villages, he often pondered "white briquettes" as a metaphor for a life dedicated to people:
White briquette
A briquette is black,
but a used briquette is white
When a briquette has been burned,
when all the work to be done is done,
a black briquette becomes white.
Looking at my gray hair,
a piece of white briquette comforts me,
saying, "You also worked hard like me!"
Without courage, I couldn't burn yet.
I put it out and lived only with my mouth,
pretending to be a white briquette.
The author is a member of the Daughters of St. Paul (fsp.pauline.or.kr.), living and giving the Good News to the world by means of social communication.
