SOBA

Having vehemently complained to my wife about three different people kept bumping into me while in line at the Incheon airport, being in Japan has effectively cured my irritability. Japan is a nation of politeness. (On the contrary, people from other parts of Japan have told me that Tokyo with its typical city hardness feels not as considerate.) Even so, coming from Korea, it did not take long to notice the contrast. I do not know what drives them to be well-mannered other than stemming from an honor and shame worldview. Later, I was told that the education system trains the Japanese in consideration and harmony from early on. In the busiest section of the entire Tokyo, Shibuya, (the only other comparable scene would be the New York Times Square) I have had multiple instances where a few people bumped into me accidentally and they would turn around, bow, and utter some words—probably some variation of “excuse me” in Japanese. Not being used to such politeness, I would also bow and crack a strained smile back.

A dear friend of ours from the US was in Tokyo at the same time we were. We knew of each other’s serendipitous plan months earlier and organized for a daylong happy collision. After a series of gastronomic extravaganza all day primarily focusing on frying kinds, (In Forest Gump movie, Bubba explains to Gump about ways to cook shrimp: you can boil it, broil it, sauté it, barbeque it, and bake it. But Bubba forgot about the frying part!) our friend chose an old Soba noodle joint for our first dinner. When we were about to enter, an older white man courteously slid the door open for us to enter though he was several steps ahead of us. Since we were wet and cold, we obliged and thanked him as we entered. The restaurant featured two different kinds of seating: western style where you don’t have to take off one’s shoes and Japanese style of cushioning Tatami mat made of rice straw. After wandering around all day like three jolly kids going bonkers at an amusement park (ok, two of us excluding my wife), our feet led the charge of our bodies to choose the Tatami mat. Plus, the mat was just lying there and invited us to lie down except we couldn’t. As I awkwardly sat and after the noodle dishes arrived, I noticed the white man who opened the door. He was by himself and sat diagonal from me facing away. He was kneeling the whole time he was eating seemingly out of reverence and cleaned out his bowl. As he exited, he bowed to each cook and server and thanked them. Comparatively, my troubled sitting posture accompanied by barbaric slurping became more pronounced.

The cooks and the servers were all elderly, seasoned, and soft-spoken, I noticed. They looked to me like they had been doing their craft for decades. Their movements were not elaborate in seeking one’s attention, rather, their movements were airy and graced. To exaggerate, I thought they were floating around the whole time. In a typical Japanese style, each fish cake was impeccably placed in my soba noodle bowl like some art piece. Even the plate the bowl was placed on featured perfectly angled chopsticks and one fukusai (side dish). The simple soba had imbued a quality of reverence. While I was in my usual gulping-down mode, the reverence all around me did not escape my mind.

Incidentally, the topic of my teaching in Japan was hospitality—the creation of a free, safe, and empty space for people to be themselves, to sing their own songs, and to dance their dances. We must, first, gift this space to ourselves because we often are the harshest critics of ourselves. As we become more sensitized and protective of this space for ourselves, we then are more capable of creating space for others, extending the circle of freedom and safety. What is often felt and experienced by the guests of this space includes an invitation to courage (courage to be and do), empowerment, and authenticity. I am encouraged to have witnessed this hospitable space at work during the retreat in Japan, further convicting me of the need.

While the message was on hospitality, I attempted to model how to create the vast empty, and free space. The medium was also a message. It is within this space we realize that we are capable of discerning how God is at work in our lives and arriving at decisions and steps from our deep. Answers rise from within. God is a safe, free, and hospitable God. In the same space, God in us recognizes God in others. A holy momentary highway toward union among followers opens resulting in unrestrained worship and union with God.

The world is in dire need of deep connection with others as there is a global epidemic of loneliness. I remain convinced to do my bit to create a hospitable space through my existence, song, and dance.