VAN GOGH'S UPPER ROOM

This entry is the first of two series from the same event. Next week’s entry will be titled The Starry Night and God’s Fool.

Yesterday, I shed my first tears while in Korea. In fact, I broke down. A moment later, I uttered a statement to my wife and Brother Ha that I know now why God sent us to Korea. Even as I write this sentence in a café on the following morning, I am shedding tears.

On our visit to Brother Ha, he took us to a room in a dilapidated Itaewon neighborhood. Live wires 10 feet above the ground crisscross like some complex spider web. This area is scheduled to be bulldozed in 2 years to make way for uber-expensive high-rise buildings that will crowd the sky. As soon as I walked into the room, something moved me. I didn’t know why. I was told by Brother Ha that this upper room used to be a tattoo parlor, which I suspect could only be found through word of mouth, as satellite navigation would simply fail. 

I told Brother Ha as soon as we walked into the room that I loved the ambiance and the spirit of the room. As if he was waiting to hear the comment, his excitement level noticeably notched up as he invited us to sit down. My eyes were still scanning the room and its eclectic mixture of furniture and knick-knacks when he said, “I named this room, Gogh’s Upper Room.” I was puzzled and thus snapped out of my Bourne-esque scanning mode and locked my eyes with his. He went on to share the story of Van Gogh, yes the Van Gogh. Vincent Van Gogh was raised by fervent Protestant parents (Van Gogh’s father and his grandfather were pastors and his uncle was a theologian) and the receptive and the seeking Van Gogh decided to follow his parents’ wishes by going to a seminary but failed entry. This led to his becoming a missionary to a rejected and dejected mining town in southern Belgium, the lowest of the low at the time. Van Gogh hit a wall because the mining folk would not accept him as one of them, as Van Gogh was from an educated and well-to-do family. Van Gogh decided to go “all-in” by living with them and living like them. Van Gogh’s earliest drawings were all about the mining town and its folk. Needless to say, none of the paintings got sold. Not that he was trying to sell his paintings, since no artist in his or her right mind would draw such scenes at the time. Artists were drawn to paint Christian themes, as they were more likely to be bought by wealthy clients to be hung in their homes. 

Two years into his service among the mining folk, his denomination supervisor paid a visit to see how well Van Gogh was carrying out his mission. The supervisor was disturbed by Van Gogh’s approach and told Van Gogh that he was defaming Christianity and that he was “fired.” Van Gogh was deemed too radical by his incarnational approach. He didn’t preach and teach enough of Christian doctrine according to the supervisor. Shocked and shaken to his core, Van Gogh decided to leave the Church and Christianity. What follows is the better-known story of Van Gogh’s launching into becoming an artist (which he already was) of flowers, landscapes, portraits (including himself), etc. He made an intentional decision not to draw religiously themed paintings except for a few “spiritual” paintings, which took great courage and resolve.

Brother Ha and his wife are serving the “mining folk” of their context, which are the Muslim refugees from Morocco, Yemen, Egypt, Iraq, Syria, Bangladesh, Pakistan, etc, who have settled in Korea. Each of their journeys with its twists and turns I would not be able to fathom would be worth a book, I thought fleetingly. Husbands move from job to job and are often gone for a week or two at a time outside of Seoul, while wives tend to young children, barely making ends meet. Brother Ha stepped into the Muslim community in Itaewon by first establishing a “community center” for the Muslims. “Mr. Ha” is known as the go-to person who would help take care of many challenges facing these desperate families. We visited Brother Ha on a Friday afternoon right after the Friday prayer at the biggest mosque here in Korea. While sitting down to chat, a Muslim in full traditional garb came to speak to Mr. Ha. His eyes reflected trust and warmth toward Mr. Ha. He told me he had just attended the Friday prayer. 

3 years after opening the community center, Mr. Ha and his wife established Barocha Library, tutoring the school-age Muslim children right across from an elementary school. The elementary school with a student body of 300 features 120 refugee Muslim children from all over the world. We met vibrant Wajid with an infectious smile visible even behind the mask, who must have been 5 years old or so. Wajid was born in Korea and spoke Korean fluently, as any other 5-year-old Korean boy. A year after opening Barocha Library, Brother Ha and his wife established Boaz Center, specifically to equip the women with skills of sewing and making small decorative plants for online sale. A year later, they started a business of making and selling Korean rice cakes by employing Muslim women. We were served by a few Moroccan women who prepared their traditional Couscous dish along with the Korean rice cakes. Never have I thought that I would eat Couscous and Korean spicey rice cakes in the same meal. As we thanked them for a great meal, it felt right to be given, rather than to give. I hoped that it would grant them a small dose of dignity by being the hosts in a foreign country. Had we visited them in their homes in Morocco, they would have been just as hospitable.

Time is ticking for these families, including Brother Ha’s labor of love since the area will be bulldozed in 2 years or so. After we said goodbye, I simply asked God to provide a better future.