Beyond Physical Distance
Text: 2 Corinthians 9:6-15
What has been the most beautiful moment for you during the COVID-19 pandemic? My most beautiful moments – not just one, but two – were unexpected.
About a month ago, I got a phone call from my mother in Korea. She usually calls me for one of the two reasons, either to keep me in the loop about family in Korea, or to say: “Why haven’t you phoned me recently?” I thought it was the latter. I usually keep informed by following my niece and nephew, who live in Korea, on social media. Since there had not been any updates, when I picked up the phone, I was already feeling guilty for not phoning my mother more often. To my surprise, she was calling about my father. My parents have been separated for a long time. In fact, my father left home before I was born, leaving his young family – his wife and two children – alone. Once in a blue moon, he came back to spend some time with his family, but that was not enough for me to be able to build a relationship with my father. I remember only two occasions that he brought us somewhere nice for a family time – on one of my birthdays we went to dine at a famous tower, a landmark of Seoul, and another time we went on a summer fishing trip – our one and only family camping trip. I will always treasure those times spent as a family, however momentary they were.
Since my father was estranged from the rest of the family, and never called anyone in his family I knew when my mother mentioned him that something was seriously wrong. “Your father is in the ICU with a heart problem, and he has not been awakened yet,” my mother told me. As it turned out, the hospital had access to my mother’s contact information, as she was the legal head of the household. After hanging up the phone, all kinds of what-ifs went through my head. I began to prepare for the worst-case scenario. I worried about not being able to be with my father, however the travel restrictions made me reluctant to take any actions except waiting and praying. My biggest fear is not being able to say a proper goodbye to my loved ones. The death of my brother taught me not to wait for the right moment, but to make the moment right. A few days later, my father recovered; I did not hesitate to call him. During the call, I focused on my breathing because I was shivering, and I could hear my heartbeat. On the other end of the line, I heard my father weeping, and when he spoke his voice trembled. We had the most intimate and beautiful conversation we have ever had. I thanked him for the precious memories he created for me, gratitude I had never expressed before. I felt much lighter and more relived after the phone call.
My second story is about what I witnessed last week through an online ordination service I attended. A friend of mine, Miseon Choi, was getting ordained in Disciples of Christ in the US, a denomination that the United Church is in full communion with. Miseon is a PhD candidate at Claremont Seminary, and works in a small Korean American church while raising her child alone. Her husband is also a minister, but he started an alternative church in Korea a few years ago. The service took place both in person and online in collaboration with a variety of people. A group of young people Miseon’s husband was ministering to participated in the service virtually by singing and playing lively music. There was a great sense of community throughout the service. The highlight for me was when the time came for Miseon to receive the laying on of hands, an ancient practice invoking the Holy Spirit to come and bless the receiver. The person presiding assured us that there would be no physical touch. Instead, he invited everyone to open their arms and extend their hands toward Miseon to participate in the blessing from a distance. And he invited Miseon’s seven-year-old son to come and hold his mother’s hand. The child, who wore a mask the whole time, walked up to his mother to bless her on behalf of everyone. The small hand of the child became a symbol of God’s blessing. It was the most powerful ordination ceremony I have ever seen.
What I learned from those two moments was that God’s grace knows no boundaries. Indeed, the grace is so radical that it can dissolve all the existing boundaries facing us. Though we are in a time of physical distancing, we have never felt closer to each other in spirit. Our shared experiences have strengthened our sense of being one human family. Even with many restrictions in place, our gratitude for the small things has grown – clear water, fresh air, a place to sleep, our daily food, and most of all, the fact that we are still alive. There has never been a better moment to learn that we are nothing but breath and dust, and that everyone is equally fragile and vulnerable. We have been given a tremendous opportunity to learn about humanity with a new openness. We can use this time to develop a sense of place, which can help deepen our appreciation of our home, the Earth. I dare to say that now is a God-given moment to turn our lives around from competition to solidarity, from consumerism to sustainability, and from owning to sharing.
This Thanksgiving may feel different or even strange for many of us. Certainly, this special holiday is like no other. Amid uncertainty, we are called to give thanks to God. Perhaps, for the first time, we can reclaim the true spirit of Thanksgiving – instead of focusing on what we have accomplished, we can explore and reflect on what the Spirit has done and can still do for us. The generous and boundary-crossing Spirit of God continues to create many beautiful moments with and through us beyond physical distance.