Sermon for Ascension Day - Guest Preacher, Liesel Mitchell

Choosing Life – 5^th June 2011, Knox Church

Good morning.  For those of you who I may not know – or don’t know me, my name is Liesel Mitchell and I have been coming to Knox Church for almost two years.  Since last year I have been one of the youth group leaders here. 

My background is Christian – growing up with parents as ministers meant that was non-negotiable as a child – however as a teenager I was given choice.  I chose more and more to stay away from both church and religious practice.  I trained to be a teacher which took me to South Korea which other than being a wonderful experience challenged my outlook on life.  One of the biggest restructurings for me was the concept that there may be more than one way of doing things – and my way just might not be the only one. 

Feeling somewhat like I was starting again – and needed to start again with all the life pieces that the experience in Korea had unstitched and re-stitched for me I made the choice to return to NZ after eight years in Korea and begun post-graduate study in Peace and Conflict Studies here at Otago University. 

I am currently working on my masters thesis which focuses on the topic of nonviolence.  I am becoming increasingly aware of how this study weaves the various strands of my past into a choice for life.  How do I live in this world in an honest and integrated way which makes sense?  So in this space of half formed thoughts and half way through the research and writing process, Sarah has kindly invited me along to share with you this morning. 

We all make subtle choices every day that may contribute to whether we are choosing life, and yet how aware of this are we?  It may take disaster, a tragic accident, a testing of personal boundaries or a situation that has spiraled out of individual control to expose the deeper core of what some may call our “survival instinct” or the deeper understanding of choosing life.

With this in mind, I want to take you on a journey back in time to the 1980’s.  This may summon up memories of your own.  I know for me this was a time when I was celebrating life in the shape of holidays by the river with friends, weekend trips to the beach, family picnics and the freedom to be a kid who could walk anywhere I wanted in a neighbourhood where you still knew most of your neighbours.  When I think of the 1980’s I feel safe.  Loved.  Alive.

South Korea, at this very same time, was in the grip of a military regime which was slowly but surely shutting down any pretense of democracy under martial law. 

In May of 1980, the people of Gwangju, South Korea were grieving the lives of hundreds – possibly thousands – of neighbours, friends and loved ones who had been massacred.   Gwangju is a city that is geographically similar in size to Dunedin.  A basin.  Surrounded on all sides by mountains and hills which made it ideal to seal off completely.  No one else knew what was happening as the killing begun.

It’s called many things but it’s often simply referred to as May the 18 or 오일팔.  It may not be a day that we, sitting here in Dunedin have ever even heard of, but it marked the beginning of approximately 10 days of terror and fear for the people of Gwangju. 

What would this be like?

Paratroopers and riot police had been deployed and they entered the city late on the night of the 17th of May.  The next morning, students gathered outside one of the universities in the city, unaware of its closure, but protesting the military presence who blocked entry to the campus.  Student protests were not unusual.  Military or police presence were also not unusual at these events.  But this time the rules had been changed and the students were sent into a state of confusion and chaos when the military police turned on them.  The intention was not to disperse the crowd.  The intention was to cause harm.

An account of this is given in the book, Contentious Kwangju “…a squad of soldiers…charged the students and waded into the crowd swinging their batons.  The students were beaten, clubbed, knifed and bayoneted” (Shin & Hwang. 2003, p.xv).

The students were speaking out against a destructive regime which was threatening to shut down their education.  They were choosing to stand strong in their belief in this, and were choosing to do it with their collective presence and their voices and cries for their university to remain open.  They did not have weapons and according to accounts of the event, it has been documented as being nonviolent on the part of the students.  The military was instructed to use violence.  They were instructed to go against what I would call the choice for life in each of us and destroy the lives of others.

This poem was written during the days of the Gwangju massacre by the poet김준태 and it’s called광주, 아 광주, 우리 나라 의 십자가 (Gwangju, oh Gwangju, the cross of our nation)

Our father: Where has he gone?

Our mother: Where has she fallen?

Our sons: Where were they killed and buried?

And our lovely daughters

Where are they lying, mouths agape?

Where are our spirits

torn apart, ripped to shreds?

Let’s now cross the seas to the east of Korea and arrive in Beijing, China – more specifically, that huge overwhelming expanse of space, in the heart of a pulsing city – Tiananmen Square.  June 4^th, 1989 – what many of us may remember as we saw the images in the news – the day of the Tiananmen Square Massacre.

This too, was a student protest against a controlling regime.  Students and gradually the citizens of Beijing too, staged a massive sit-in in Tiananmen Square demonstrating against the government. 

This was a much more organized movement than Gwangju, with permanent camps of rotating students keeping a constant presence and pressure on the Chinese government.  The students’ established routines and were the peacekeepers between the military occupation and citizens whose anger and aggression sometimes had the potential to destroy the nonviolent tactics of the students.

The nonviolent protest in Tiananmen Square went on for almost six weeks, ending tragically on June the 4^th, with the deployment of the 27^th Army.  The protesting students, like the students in Gwangju, had placed a certain element of trust in the military as there was a clear mandate that the People’s Liberation Army was to serve and protect the people of China.  So when the 27^th Army replaced the soldiers that the students had grown to respect and form relationships with, there was no reason for fear.  But like Gwangju, the confusion and chaos scattered and panicked the crowd as the 27^th Army followed orders, made their intentions clear and opened fire on an unprotected, openly nonviolent group of people.

This is an excerpt from Liao Yiwu’s poem entitled “Massacre” which he was arrested for writing.

A massacre is happening
In this nation of Utopia
Where the Prime Minister catches a cold
The masses have to sneeze to follow
Martial law is declared and enforced
The aging toothless state machine is rolling over
Those who dare to resist and refuse to sneeze
Fallen by the thousands are the barehanded and unarmed
Shoot, Shoot, Shoot
Humans and stars are falling and running
Indistinguishable, which are humans and which are stars
Troops followed them into the cloud, into cracks on the ground…

Both massacres were horrific acts.  Both resulted in huge loss of life.  But that was not all.  Underlying these tragedies was the choice for life and nonviolence made by thousands of young people.  We continue to honour their choices which have shaped the ongoing political landscape.  Their stories are a reminder of hopeful living.

Like Jesus who taught nonviolence, chose life even in his own death, and then appeared to leave us, the stories of the people of Tiananmen Square and Gwangju too are somehow still able to speak to us with a power, a hope and choice for life that violence never has.