Religion and Superstition in a Yonsei Korean Textbook
I’m sure it is hard to make language textbooks. On top of introducing grammatical patterns, vocabulary, and maintaining a certain level of appropriate difficulty, the writers need to try to make the contents of the readings interesting and hopefully educational. This is something I can appreciate in my last summer of formal language study, here at Yonsei’s Korean Language Institute. This week, one of our lessons is on the topic of superstition 미신(迷信).
Superstition is a word rich with history, something also true of its uses in Korea, China, and Japan. A quick search on the word in Chinese and Korean historical databases corresponding to different periods will give you an idea of its common uses. The Confucians have used it to attack Buddhists and Daoists. Enlightenment intellectuals have used it to attack Confucianism, Buddhism, Shamanism, and other religious practices. Japanese colonial period scholars have used it to categorize a whole range of Korean cultural practices. Leftists and Communists all over East Asia have used the term (K: mishin, C: mixin, J: meishin) as a derogatory reference to all religious practices. If you visit China’s great wall (at least as of 2000, when I was there last) you are greeted by a sign warning you not to litter, start fires, or “preach feudalistic and superstitious beliefs.” Enlightenment voices and leftist ideologues are not the only ones who use the word, however. Christians also frequently use the term to condescendingly refer to non-Christian religious rituals, practices, and folk customs - while exempting their own religious beliefs.
The essays for reading in a language textbook need to be short and concise so they must necessary engage in a degree of generalization. They should also state an opinion in order to help spark discussion in class and motivate students to use the new vocabulary they are taught. Usually the opinion is less than controversial. For example, so far this summer we have been told that perhaps women shouldn’t be such slaves to fashion, and that perhaps we ought not to lead rushed and busy lives.
Sometimes, though, these textbook essays reveal certain interesting biases that were probably not designed to be questioned in the discussion that follows a class reading of the essay. The lesson on superstition is an example of this. Take the following passage (followed by my attempt at a translation):
…종교를 가지고 있는 사람들은 신앙으로 불안한 마음을 이겨 나가고 종교가 없는 사람들은 자연히 미신에 관심을 가기게 된다. 그래서 사람들은 자기 자신의 미래에 대한 어떤 중요한 결정을 해야 할때, 자신의 생각이나 판단만으로는 불안하기 때문에 남의 말이나 미신을 믿게 된다…아직도 미신에 귀를 기울이는 사람들이 있다.
“…those with religion overcome the apprehensions in their heart by turning to faith while those without religion naturally become interested in superstition. Thus, since people feel anxiety when they face an important decision concerning their future on the basis of their own thoughts and judgement alone, they come to believe in the words of other people and in superstition…There are still people who give an ear to superstition.”
A few things I find revealing in this passage: 1) The implied judgement about people “without religion.” 2) The interesting distinction between something called “religion” and something called “superstition” 3) The interesting distinction between something called “religion” and something called “believing the words of other people.”
This passage is, on the surface, neutral about what kind of “religion” can help us overcome our anxieties. To this extent it is a little less direct than the kind of more overtly Christian elements I have found in several other Korean textbooks which I have discussed in an old blog posting from 2003 here. However, I should note that many of the “superstitions” that get discussed throughout the lesson and in class are clearly derived from Buddhist, Shamanistic, and other religious practices in Korea. Those who believe in such “superstitions” may object to the use of the insulting term. I only ask that, if you want to use the term, let us be a little more even-handed.
In class, when asked to describe a few superstitions from “my country” I described the widespread superstitious belief that praying to a powerful spirit named “God” will bring you good fortune and that doing bad deeds will result in one’s own spirit going to a horrible place after death. My teacher is experienced enough to know that valuable class time can best be preserved by ignoring smart asses like me, and moved quickly on to the next student.
August 2nd, 2007 at 17:32
I’ve always thought the Japanese word 迷信 was a good translation for superstition, since ‘misguided beliefs’ seems like a good definition for the English word.
I actually had opportunity to think about this subject a lot last week when my family and I had to suddenly return to Japan for my mother in law’s funeral. 4 or 5 days after the funeral, I asked Ryoko if it would be alright for me to play the piano a bit. Her response is that such things wouldn’t be appropriate until after the 49 day mourning period was over. Also related, even though the local summer festival was Tuesday night, no one in Ryoko’s family participated, since they were in mourning.
So this is a fairly simple thing, which I call “not engaging in boisterous activity during the mourning period”. It could be viewed very differently depending on your perspective.
I initially just viewed this as simple superstition, and in fact it kind of annoyed me at first. My better sense prevailed however, and I listed to my wife and didn’t make an argument out of it.
Ryoko, although she shares my belief system, viewed it very differently. She was simply showing respect to her father, her deceased mother, and her extended family by observing the appropriate Japanese traditions.
To Ryoko’s father and family, this was the proper religions observation. Although Ryoko’s father is what I would classify as the stereotypical Japanese ‘culturally Buddhist’, Ryoko’s mother was as active practitioner/worshiper of Shingon-shu, so everyone wanted to make sure that all the ceremonies were done according to her faith.
So in the end I repented of my initial knee-jerk reaction of ‘meaningless superstition’ and instead adopted my wife’s attitude of ‘politely showing respect for other’s beliefs’. So I wore the juzu on my wrist, lit the incense at the altar, and sprinkled the incense on my forehead like everyone else. I even helped sing some prayers with my father-in-law every evening while I was there. The only thing that was really hard was sitting in seiza for so long during the funeral (I actually was able to relax a bit and sit cross-legged when I noticed other family members doing the same).
It seems that this is the same attitude that most Mormons in Japan adopt. A strict interpretation of thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, [...] nor bow down thyself to them, nor serve them would be that doing such is idol worship. Perhaps some of the Christian sects in Japan interpret it this way, I don’t know. But the Mormons in Japan I’ve talked to feel that true worship is what is done in your heart, and so things like lighting incense at a butsudan, bowing to a ojizou, or clapping and ringing the bell at a shrine is not idol worship if you are not worshiping the ancestors/Buddha/kami in your heart. (by this interpretation, probably a large majority of normal Japanese aren’t guilty of idol worship either, but I digress…)
Since most Mormons in Japan are converts, if a member of a Mormon family dies, they usually still hold the wake or vigil in the standard Japanese tradition, the only exception being the absence of a Buddhist priest, and the altar being much simpler and containing only the picture of the deceased. Then the next day the actual funeral is held at the church, closely resembling their western counterparts (truth be told though, I’ve never been to anything but a Mormon funeral in the US, so I have little to compare it to).
August 18th, 2007 at 1:35
A late reply: your Korean translation looks perfect ^^