Papal Nod to a Christian Boom

By Richard N. Ostling

Protestants and Catholics are thriving in the "Hermit Kingdom "

"Is it not a joy indeed to have a friend come from afar?" Gracefully quoting those words from Confucius, Pope John Paul II last week began a five-day visit to South Korea,* a land where exuberant Christianity today all but overshadows Confucianism. The welcoming ceremony for the Pontiff was sedate, since Seoul's airport had been swept virtually clean of onlookers. Extraordinary security preparations, caused in part by assassination threats, were everywhere evident--and perhaps necessary. Sunday morning, three days after his arrival, the Pope was en route to Seoul's Myong Dong Cathedral when a deranged-looking young man dashed out from the crowd and, assuming a shooter's crouch about 35 ft. from John Paul's bulletproof car, brandished what looked like a handgun. An alert policeman fired one shot into the roadway in front of the man, who threw his "weapon" to the ground; it proved to be a plastic toy. The man raised his arms with fists clenched before he was hustled away.

Before the incident, the crowds greeting the Pontiff in cities like Taegu and Pusan as well as Seoul were large and enthusiastic. At Kwangju, site of an antigovernment protest in which at least 183 people died, the Pope was greeted by thunderous applause and cheers from 70,000 who had gathered for a stadium Mass. In his address, John Paul spoke of those "haunted by the memory of the unfortunate events of this place." Throughout his trip, and even during a private meeting with President Chun Doo-Hwan, John Paul pointedly appealed for human rights and the dignity of workers.

But his major mission was to acknowledge one of Christianity's most strategic centers in Asia and to celebrate the 200th anniversary of Roman Catholicism in Korea. The influence of Christian churches in South Korea was evident on Sunday when, right after the "shooting" scare, the Pope presided over rites canonizing 103 martyrs, the first such group ceremony outside of Rome. The new saints were killed under 19th century monarchs of the Yi dynasty, who suppressed what was then a tiny, alien sect. The site of the canonization Mass, Seoul's Yoido Plaza, is usually reserved for the May 8 observance of Buddha's birthday. But since the Catholics' ten-story cross and shell-shaped altar were too monumental to be dismantled in time, the Buddhists agreed to step aside.

Few nations are being Christianized more rapidly than South Korea. At the end of World War II, only about 5% of South Koreans were Christians. Today the figure is at least 20% of the country's 40 million population, a higher percentage than any other Asian country's except the Philippines' 83.5%. An estimated 16% of South Koreans are Buddhist, and 13% are Confucianist. Millions retain some adherence to various forms of shamanism, a primitive folk religion.

Church membership is increasing by about 10% a year, especially among the young. Half of college freshmen identify themselves as Christians. Catholics now number 1.7 million, but the Christian renewal is primarily among the 6.5 million Protestants. (Such quasi-Christian sects as the Olive Tree Church and Sun Myung Moon's Unification Church are far smaller.) The signs of prosperity are vividly apparent in Seoul's Sunday-morning steeple bells. The Pentecostalist Full Gospel Central Church, with 370,000 members, claims to be the largest congregation of any kind, anywhere.

When the first group of Korean Catholic converts formed in 1784, Korea was known as the "Hermit Kingdom" because of its isolation. The new faith was not welcome, and as many as 10,000 Catholics were executed in the next few decades. The first Protestant missionary arrived in 1884, just as religious tolerance was taking hold. Elsewhere in Asia, Christianity was identified with Western exploitation, but in Korea--particularly after Japan annexed the peninsula in 1910--it was allied with the national independence movement. Meanwhile, even non-Christians considered Buddhism corrupt and Confucianism elitist. Horace Grant Underwood, a U.S. Presbyterian missionary who teaches at Seoul's Yonsei University, argues that Protestantism represented "a new view of history, new knowledge, new progress of all kinds." More than Catholics, the Protestants with their emphasis on the role of the laity were able to reach the common people.

Christianity also remained a refuge for the politically isolated. After the Japanese occupation ended in 1945, a harsh Communist regime in North Korea sought to exterminate religion and drove more than 300,000 Christians to the South. When the late President Park Chung Hee consolidated his tough martial-law rule in the 1970s, Christianity was drawn into South Korean political conflict. As in Poland, churches were the only independent avenues for political and labor dissent. One of the boldest champions of Korean human rights has been Stephen Sou-Hwan Cardinal Kim.

With its current rapid growth, Christianity is now facing some of the problems of success. Despite the activism of some pastors, the majority have avoided politics; some liberal U.S. church leaders accuse them of selling out to the government and business to protect their own interests. Presbyterian Philosopher Son Bong Ho of Seoul National University worries about other consequences of the churches' prosperity. "Numbers take precedence over purity," he complains, noting that some preachers lure converts with the promise of worldly success. Advisers have warned the Pope that the Catholic Church is also growing too fast to instruct new adherents properly. Despite those tensions, however, Christianity in South Korea enjoys a strength and vitality that many older churches in the West can only envy.

--By Richard N. Ostling. Reported by Edwin M. Reingold/Seoul and Roberto Suro with the Pope

* This week he moves on to Papua New Guinea, the Solomon Islands and Thailand.

With reporting by Edwin M. Reingold/Seoul, Roberto Suro