I think I'm going to start going only to the Korean language church (the one I attended last week), simply because I feel much more welcome there. The English language service at the other church, where I went for the last time today, is isolated in the basement. We may be able to understand the words of the service, but we are never invited to participate in other activities, including lunch, which the whole Korean congregation eats together. Nowadays, there are only two Non-Koreans there: me and June. We've been effectively quarantined in our own language isolation cell. I am tired of it. Not one person in the halls smiled at me on my way into the building--it's like I'm a hostile alien. It's so lonely, I spent half the sermon today wiping tears from my eyes and contemplating just walking out abruptly. Which I didn't, because that would have left June alone, unable to explain why I had left.
I believe I can worship Jesus more directly and enthusiastically with people who are singing comfortably in church in their own language, even if I don't understand much of it. Particularly if they smile at me, and I can follow the order of service in the hymnal and Bible, I know we share the same heart. I want to feel like I am part of a family – a family of Christians – rather than an experimental control group with carefully selected staff members sacrificing their comfort to interact awkwardly with me during a designated interval and then metaphorically disinfecting their hands and returning to their regular lives away from us peculiar foreign folk.
The Navy guy didn't say anything to me today, nor did the drummer guy. (I had joked a month or so ago that I had made them have coffee with me, but I had no idea how true to the facts that was. They have made no attempt to talk to me of their own accord then or since, only speaking when spoken to.) The girl who was in charge of the PowerPoint presentation smiled briefly. The man who gave the sermon seemed mildly irritated, perhaps because I was less attentive than usual. The wife of the ruling elder (he is the one person who earnestly tries on an ongoing basis to make us feel welcome) did ask if there was something wrong, but I didn't spill. Once I have been vulnerable to people whom I have later felt to be on a different comprehension wavelength, I don't repeat the mistake. And what would an emotional burst have solved? It's not like this can be "fixed" by my input, and I don't believe that I am supposed to be staying there anyway.
Always well before this point in Russia, I had found a good church, with solid fellowship. I had established a relationship with at least one other Christian local. Of course, my language abilities in Russian, however minimal, certainly exceed my Korean skills. Still, Korea is an intercultural challenge. On one level I had expected this, and have been forewarned by others who had lived here. But I am severely handicapped in ways I didn't anticipate by the language barrier, and by the seeming unwillingness of many people to try to make gestures of goodwill. It's a learning experience, certainly. It has made me wonder how many people I have similarly excluded by not proactively smiling and speaking at home. How important it is to ask people of all ages, races, and socio-economic backgrounds to join you for meals and even small social activities! And how essential to the life of the church is moving beyond a nominal "friendship" on social media to real, in-person relationships!