Filial Piety

Crown Prince Sado spent his last eight days in a large wooden chest.  The summer sun beat down on the box that acted as his execution device.  Such was the penalty for his excesses and his own wanton cruelty.

Traditionally, an English gentleman was a gentleman by virtue of good breeding.  The son of a gentleman was fit for all of the offices of a gentleman.  (It was said of civil service exams that “if a man is a gentleman, he knows quite enough, and if he is not a gentleman, whatever he knows is bad for him.”)  Of course, there was the odd black sheep; a young man could occasionally bring shame upon himself and his family by exhibiting traits unfitting for a gentleman.

In a general sort of way, the same was true of Korean society under the Joseon Dynasty.  Their Confucian ideology placed great importance on social standing, which was almost wholly the result of birth.  The great lineage and reputation of Sado’s father, the king, heaped expectation upon the crown prince.  Perhaps the strain was more than he could bear.

Democratic Western society allows men from all backgrounds to become gentlemen.  Just as Eliza Doolittle became a proper lady through education and social training, a modern man from any station can become a gentleman.  Still the influence of one’s family (through both nature and nurture) has a profound effect on a man.

Sado’s son succeeded his grandfather.  Out of respect for his father, the young king dedicated a fortress and palace to Sado and relocated his remains.  At the fortress, Hwaseong, there is a large bell known as The Bell of Filial Piety.  Visitors are allowed to ring the bell (for a small donation) out of respect for their parents and in hopes of bringing happiness and harmony to their families.

When I rang the Bell of Filial Piety, the story of Sado, his father and his son became intertwined with my story, the legacy of my father and his father, and our shared cultural heritage.  One can never truly appreciate the full effect his parents have on his life, one can only be grateful.  (Unless one’s father locks him in a box and leaves him to die; in that case it seems difficult to accept the “it’s for your own good” argument.  Although one may accept “this hurts me more than it hurts you.”)

Say what you mean…

I almost wrote a post in defense of esotericism, but I realised that I would not believe it myself.  And as Wilde wrote, “If one puts forward an idea… the only thing… of any importance is whether one believes it oneself.  The value of an idea has… to do with the sincerity of the man who expresses it.”

The season of giving…

Charity is a hallmark of gentlemanly behavior.  In a way, charity is at the heart of gentlemanly manners; holding the door for a lady, giving up one’s seat for an elderly person and other such actions are really just small acts of charity.  In these ways, I consider myself rather charitable.  However, in the more conventional sense, I have not been very charitable.  I’ve not donated much of my time or money specifically to improving the lives of others.  One of the reasons for my reluctance to give to charity is my own personal indecision.  I have trouble deciding what to have for lunch when I only have 3 eatable items in the refrigerator.  When it comes to giving to charity, there are so many options and so many causes that I find it hard to be comfortable giving to one organization and not feeling like my time or money could have done more good if applied elsewhere.  I must work to keep this indecision from paralyzing me.  There is much good for me to do in this world, and since I am in Korea, I might as well do some good here; I wouldn’t be the first Westerner to do so.

It has been said that “rugby is a ruffian’s game played by gentlemen.”  The Seoul Survivors Rugby Club recently put an exclamation point on the statement. The club, made up primarily of American, Antipodean and Canadian ex-pats,  recently raised ₩4.2 million for an orphanage and to send school supplies north of the DMZ.  (If I am not mistaken, they also took a bunch of the orphans ice skating.)  The Survivors are the most recent in a long line of Westerners who have come to this land and done their part to improve the lives of the natives in the name of charity.  I recently visited 양화진 (Yanghwajin Foreigner’s Cemetery.)  Yanghwajin is the final resting place for some 118 foreign missionaries and quite a few other notable foreigners who played various roles in Korean independence movements and such.  The founder of Korea’s first Western style hospital, the first person to translate the Bible into Korean, the founder of Korea’s first girls’ school (now Ehwa University, one of Korea’s top universities) and the founder of the Seoul YMCA are among those interred at Yanghwajin.  In short, it’s a veritable “who’s who” of  people who make one wonder “what are YOU doing with your life?”

Anyway, the faithful departed at Yanghwajin, the lads at Survivors RFC and my own upbringing (which is not lacking in fine examples of charity) have inspired a spirit of giving in me.  Also, it’s almost Christmas, so the Salvation Army, Korean Division is out in force with their red buckets and bell ringing (thanks to some of the people in Yanghwajin.)

Life note:  The dumpling restaurant in my building has been open for almost a fortnight now and I’ve gotten about five orders of dumplings so far.  As it turns out, I was right to worry that I’d like them too much; kimchi dumplings are awesome.

An Officer and a Gentleman or Modern Pentathlete (Abroad)

It should come as no surprise that my view of what a gentleman ought to be is intertwined with my ideal for a military officer.  Historically military officers came from the upper crust of society and were expected to behave in a manner befitting their station.  To this day, the United States military code has a provision for “conduct unbecoming of an officer and a gentleman.”

Archaic as the idea may be, I think that it is important for a gentleman to keep his body and mind trained and ready for military service.  A career lawyer and politician, John Dickinson was willing and able to leave the Continental Congress for the Pennsylvania Militia when his state needed him.  Any gentleman should be prepared (both physically and psychologically) to do the same.

For the first modern Olympic games, Baron Pierre de Coubertin invented a sport specifically to test the athletes in the physical skills needed to be a successful cavalry officer.  The modern pentathlon (now over a hundred years old and rather outdated as far as military training is concerned) combines five of the most important tests an officer may face if stuck behind enemy lines: he must be able to ride an unfamiliar horse, run and swim over extended distances, and fight with swords and side arms.

Aside from general physical fitness required for the swimming and running, these skills are not quite requisite for the modern gentleman.  Still, if I were to train for any sport as though I actually had a chance of making it to the Olympics it would be the modern pentathlon; it really seems to be the proper sport for a gentleman.

Coming up soon: why golf, croquet, tennis and other country club sports are not AS ideal for a gentleman (but still excellent.)

I couldn’t help but overhear…

“Eavesdropping” in its most literal sense is listening to a conversation within a house from without, under the eaves.  Hiding outside of another’s house in order to overhear a personal conversation seems fairly nefarious.  More often, however, eavesdropping is done on the bus or in a restaurant; one’s attention is drawn by a specific word or phrase and before he knows it, he is listening intently to strangers discussing people he’ll never see or events that will never affect him.  In general, there is little harm that can come of it, but it is widely regarded as rude to listen in on other people’s private conversations, even if they are in a public place.

What if, however, the eavesdropper does not speak the language?  This is the quandary that I face regularly.  Nearly everyday at work, I hear phone conversations, or halves of phone conversations, and I feel compelled to listen intently for words that I recognize.  I view it as part of my education in the Korean language to listen to people engaged in conversation and attempt to understand them.  No real breach of privacy can occur since I only know a handful of words.

And yet, if it is excusable now because I can understand so little of what I hear, when does it become rude again?  When I understand a tenth of what I hear?  When I understand half?  When I understand a single word that can be very personal, such as “sex” or “diarrhea”?  The most practical answer is that if people do not want their conversations to be overheard, they ought not have them where other people may overhear them.  But this is not satisfactory for a gentleman; just as a gentleman would not steal just because the shopkeeper makes it easy.

In short, I don’t know whether or not I should go on eavesdropping at work and on the bus, hoping to catch phrases I recognize such as “이름이 뭐에요?” (What is your name?) or “만두 주세요” (Give me dumplings please.)  What is the gentlemanly way to handle this?

Life note:  My diet and wallet will face a great test in the near future.  A new restaurant is opening in my building and I successfully read a few menu items:  고기만두 (meat dumpling), 김치만두 (kimchi dumpling) and a couple more types of 만두.  I am more excited than I should be.

Bless you.

Jerry Seinfeld once opined that we say “Bless you” when somebody sneezes to make him feel better.  But, he reasoned, if the goal is to make somebody feel better then we should not bless him, but compliment him:

“Achoo!”

“You’re so good looking.”

Other objections to saying “Bless you” include the increasingly secular nature of Western society.  There are those who object to any thing spiritual or remotely Christian, even (or perhaps especially) knee-jerk “Bless you’s” because they are remnants of a bygone era of “unenlightened” religiousness:

“Achoo!”

“God bless you.”

“Don’t force your imaginary friend on me!”

Perhaps the most reasonable objection that I have heard is that sneezes are a disruption.  As such, it is best to limit the amount of our time and attention that they are able to take from us.  Saying “Bless you” only draws more attention to the sneeze and often results in an unnecessary exchange of formalities:

“Achoo!”

“Bless you.”

“Oh, excuse me.”

“Certainly.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“What were we talking about?”

I rarely say “Bless you” myself.  I tend to use “Gesundheit” or “Salud” (“health” in German and Spanish respectively.)  “Gesundheit” is certainly not uncommon in the United States, where the largest ethnic group is German-Americans (a group to which I belong.)  “Salud” made its way into my vocabulary in high school Spanish class.

Despite my somewhat unusual (by American standards) response to sneezes, I have always understood that it is rude not to respond at all.  So my time in Korea has left me conflicted.  The Koreans do not say “Bless you” (or any equivalent) after somebody sneezes.  So when I am at work or with people I know and somebody sneezes I feel compelled to say something.  However, nobody expects a response and Spanish or German would only complicate the matter.  Usually I hold my tongue and wonder whether St. Ambrose would approve.  After all, it was he who told St. Augustine, “When in Rome, do as the Romans.”