Memorials and “Final” chapters

What we hope most to have accomplished in the few months we have lived, loved and wandered among the peoples of Vietnam is to have embodied in some way the example and teachings of Jesus Christ. Looking backwards as we now can on the paths we have taken in this journey, and more especially on the lives of the people we have met, loved and served, we see so many interesting stories, and so much of the sorrows, sadness and struggles of life, mixed wonderfully with moments of joy, happiness and fulfillment. As in Vietnamese cuisine, the sweet, spicy, salty, hot and savory, together with flavors and sensations not well described in English, come together to make a marvelous fusion of experiences that intensify and reinforce the feeling of satisfaction and fulness. So is life as a servant of God on a mission to bless his children. There are many flavors, textures and sensations that enrich us.

But unlike a meal which comes to a pleasing climax and resolves with a little “mouth decoration” as desserts here are termed, in a mission with real people and real lives, the course is often not finished and fulfilled by just one person. We are forced to put aside many books seemingly in mid-sentence, still hanging on what verb will dominate the remainder of the story and which object will be the consummation of the phrase. We know there are yet many chapters still to be written, twists and turns in plot and theme before the grand story is revealed and the Author’s mind and will are revealed.

We first met Brother Sharp two years ago on one of our first visits to the Mekong. We stayed in the village hotel, with it’s hard bed and the geckos prowling the walls for any insects that ventured in. We met him and his daughter at the head of the dirt path that lead in a kilometer or so to their home on the edge of the rice paddies. Flat and green, yet soured by a dry season that meant salt intrusion, those fields seemed in some ways a metaphor for their lives. He and members of his family had joined the church while living in Cambodia and had felt unity with the saints they met. They weren’t looking for “the true church” per se, but enjoyed the fellowship and accepted the doctrines. But when they moved back to Vietnam to resume work as the opportunities improved, they were far from the pleasures of that fellowship, and the dry ground invited other influences into their lives that soured the crop a bit.

So while they welcomed our visit, they had a different perspective on their spiritual needs at that time, and their affiliation with the larger international church didn’t seem essential to what they sought day to day. They prayed, they sang, they gathered together from time to time, security forces willing, and that was enough.

Our path took us back to their province 18 months later. Sudden losses had entered the family when a son-in-law had passed away suddenly, as though hit by lightening, and their daughter was now struggling to keep that arm of the  family going. As we shared their sorrows and thought about the blessings of being able to bear up the burdens placed on us, we invited them to consider whether temple worship might not offer them strength and comfort. Again we were warmly welcomed as friends, but understanding and hunger for the full plate of gospel blessings was still not evident. I had thought it unlikely following that visit that we would see them again. But circumstances can change.

While planning our trip for the Mission Branch conference this past weekend, word arrived that Brother Sharp had himself passed away and would be buried the following day. We couldn’t make the five hour trip for that, but determined to include a visit there in advance of the branch conference.

The last kilometer of the trip to the blue and white house was now paved in concrete, but the sun was still hot and much  of the path very exposed. The rice was again planted, now just showing sprouts for the first rainy season crop, the paddy partially flooded already from the first week of rain. We found the house, where now were two graves, one still in the final stages of construction, and the other completed but not fully adorned as a more prosperous setting might have required.

As we hugged, and held hands, shared faith and offered comfort a renewed sense of unity and a deeper desire seemed to arise in the hearts of not just the widow or her children, but also in the hearts and minds of their many friends to whom Bro Sharp had been the group minister, ex officio and pro tempore. “Will you come and bring us into the fold, we who have been cast out, and forbidden from meeting” by those in authority or of greater means, was the plea both spoken and implicit as we talked.

I had not ever dedicated a grave before, not in English, much less Vietnamese, but the blessing of comfort and hope from the ministering of authorized servants with priesthood keys, seemed clearly to have brought us there for that purpose, and through the accomplishment of that end, the beginning of a new chapter.

I have wondered how the spirit led early missionaries to Benbow farm where so many were waiting to receive the gospel and who became a vital infusion of strength and faith into the developing church. And I have wondered how missionaries found my ancestors living and working the farmland many, many miles from Stockholm or Uppsala. It is less a mystery to me now, as I see how farmboys from tiny villages in Nghe An become missionaries and then branch presidents, how the children of officers and magnates from distant towns and counties receive the gospel and rise up to bless their fellows and families as Zion is established. And I can see how the congregations of the faithful, through their prayers and entreaties, also bring the servants of God to their doors to minister, and comfort, and teach. It is only the beginning of course, and the many chapters and sequels yet to be written will no doubt be even more engaging and marvelous, but it is a tide of gathering, of refining, of building, that will not be turned back. And it will metaphorically turn the intrusion of salt that sterilizes the land into a salting of the earth that redeems and seasons the abundant harvest.

Wheat fields ready for harvest Simtuna, Sweden- Quê ngoại của tôi

Does He walk where you labor?

Several moments have passed by without the snippets of a song or poem that passed through my brain getting properly captured as I might have done in an earlier day when the pace of life was more measured. Now it borders on frenetic- and I have pity on the saints who will follow us here- even if they are younger and fresh. The work worth doing seems endless, and the laborers are few indeed. But we have the awareness that unseen hands labor with us, and even while we sleep.

Christmas in the Hanoi Mission is unique. We have a few traditions, and they have meaning; some are long-standing from many sources, and others we have instituted. Among these are the sharing of Christmas songs, carols, funny poems and memorable times together in His service, as His servants.

Here then is this year's edition of a Christmas carol, now that a moment of reflection and quiet has come. May it bless your life and Christmas, as my gift to you. Christina Rossetti and Alfred Burt I am not, but a grateful soul for the mystery of a Savior born of a virgin and laid in a manger I can be and am. I see his footprints around me; I witness his hands touching the lives and hearts of those I love, giving healing and hope, and I know his wondrous love.

The Babe in the Manger

(Christmas 2017, Lewis Hassell)

Casting out the dark night- his birth brought  new light!

A daystar shone bright in the West and the East!

And blind eyes were opened receiving new sight.

The Babe in the manger, our King, yet the Least.

Hallelujah we sing with the angels above.

Hallelujah we praise the Babe King, born of Love!

In a world of sin where the wicked may reign,

His birth gives us hope for the future ahead.

In a world of sorrow, depression and pain,

This Babe in the manger brings life for the dead.

Hallelujah we sing with the angels above

Hallelujah we praise the Babe King, born of Love.

In a land where his name’s yet to sound in each ear

Yet his feet walk the paddy and toil in the Huyen*.

His hands show them mercy; His voice calls “Come near!”

The Babe in the manger will point them to Heaven.

Hallelujah we sing with the angels above

Hallelujah we praise the Babe King, born of Love.

*Vietnamese term for a village or small town.

Here is the music if you are inclined to want to sing.

Kings and Princes, Queens and Princesses

Follow us to learn a bit about what life was like for the Nguyen Dynasty Kings- It may give a clue as to why everyone wanted to be a Nguyen!

                                 

A visit to Vietnam often includes some contact with the vast history of this country, which spans millenia. It is a history that is remembered in the street names, (with I believe an official list of which names are acceptable resulting in the repetition of certain common heros’ streets being found in almost every city or town in the country,) statues, and historic sites. A few weeks back we were close by the site dedicated to the memory of two of those, the Two Trung Sisters, and more recently we were in Hue, the site of the grand Citadel and Forbidden City of the Nguyen dynasty, which governed the country from the early 1800s to 1945 when the last ruler Bao Dai, agreed to abdicate and exiled to France where he later died and was buried. 

But his ancestors built an impressive complex modeled in many respects after the Forbidden City in Beijing. The grand lay-out incorporated many familiar features- the central way, reserved for the King, with parallel entrances and paths for mandarins and courtiers, a separation of public and private spaces, men’s and women’s quarters, worship and pleasure. 

                                

The great deeds and poetic, wise utterances are commemorated and remembered in a vast hall with altars of each of the rulers, with the exception of the last, and the most noted being the founding father, Gia Lam. While a young missionary we lived on a street named for one of these Nguyen rulers, Thanh Thai, always being careful that we pronounced the name with the proper tones lest we instruct someone that we lived on the “become pregnant” street rather than that named for the ruler of the past. The street has since been renamed for a more acceptable hero (An Duong Vuong) and although there is a Thanh Thai street, it is rather unimportant. 

Altar commemorating the seventh Nguyen King, Thanh Thai, his poetry engraved in the walls behind.

                                  

Architectural detail of the Queen Mother's residence in the Forbidden City, Hue

                         

It was under the Nguyen dynasty that the French colonial influence (control?) intervened in Vietnam. So it is not surprising that many European influences entered into both the forms and the education of the later kings of that dynasty. And if one were to look upon the excesses of the next to last emporer, Khai Dinh, as reflected in his tomb, one might wonder if these were in part the cause of or at least contributing to the demise of the dynasty, a lesson demonstrated a generation earlier to the French themselves. The human and economic costs seem not dissimilar to those of the Book of Mormon king Noah, whose life was much more directed towards personal pleasures and consumption rather than the common good. Our guide admitted that “He [Khai Dinh] was not a good king” even as she took pride in the art and effort required to construct a tomb with features such as the life-size bronze statue, and the concrete pallaquin over his head, decorated to appear like silk above him. 

                                 

   

Wall details in Khai Dinh Tomb, Hue, depicting two of the seasons of the year

                                

In the current space of the Royal City, there is space to try on the yellow robes of the former kings decorated with the dragon motif, and even, for a price, to pose ceremoniously on the throne where one can be admired and paid homage to by whatever tourist may stand nearby, endeared fleetingly with no doubt countless “likes” on whatever social media is chosen to acclaim one’s glory. 

Dragon motif decorating the modern temple dedicated to the memory of the Tran Huyen Princess, Hue.

                                

We are most abundantly fortunate in knowing of those rewards prepared by a loving King who desires all his children to be Kings and Queens, and joint heirs with him of all power and majesty. It is the ultimate populist doctrine-- “Ye are gods”  He said, and not peons or paupers, Kings and Queens, not slaves or servants. And unlike the dead and forgotten Kings who defended their riches and power by fortress, armies, secrecy and often intrigue, the Kings and Queens in His Kingdom find that power and honor, glory and influence flow unto them "without compulsory means" seemingly out of thin air, "as the dew of heaven." 

Hai Quan Pass separates Hue from Danang and points south; The Nguyen dynasty fortified this key point to defend their capital, to which later generations of warriors added more defenses.

                       

International Children's Day brought out some traditional costumes for one of our neighbors from Korea.

Sister H and Sister H in Danang share a common goal of being of service to their fellows- the signature of a transformed life, whether in a Mormon or a Buddhist.

Senior Missionary Sisters gather before an evening of cultural experiences in Hue, one in heart and mind if not in dress.

Being able to find the noble, the sublime, the confidence and regal glory that can emerge in the lives of many who have cast themselves on the ash-heap of life is perhaps the great miracle of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Even for those who have retained some sense of propriety and self-esteem the transformation as they come to understand what it means to BE a Child of God is always so remarkable. And wonderfully, it is not a situation where one ever has to worry about there being a more favored child somewhere else in the family; no crown prince or spoiled princess is ahead of us in the birth order! We are all offered the same wonderful kinship as heirs with all His children of all that He has, nothing more, and nothing less. 

That’s the work we see our wonderful young (and old) missionaries doing each day. Pig’s ears become silk purses. Beauty for ashes. Victory from the jaws of defeat. Light and life supplants darkness and despair. Not surprisingly, it is joyful work, albeit also toilsome. We will not stop because we are tired, or worn, though there are times of respite and rejuvenation (such as General Conference weekends.) But we are ever motivated for the next opportunity to witness the miracle of a new King or Queen being prepared for their inheritance. No exiles or abdication needed, for this dynasty is an everlasting one.

Members and missionaries break between Conference Sessions to enjoy banh cuon and gio at a nearby street cafe. Red chilies and limes make it look like Christmas!

Part of the noble army of peace-bringers in Hanoi- none here more noble!

The French-era Colonial Government Center of French Indochine is now home to the Ho Chi Minh City People's Committee, which has nicely restored the exterior.

In seeking to create a culture of such nobility of thought and demeanor, we mesh so well with the cultural value here which seeks peace. After so many centuries of wars and conflicts, the people are just now beginning to reap the economic benefits of peaceful times, the so-called "peace dividend" from not wasting one's resources and spoiling one's countryside with the ill-will and toxins of conflict. But it really is the Prince of Peace, and the  principles he taught that bring both inner and eternal Peace, that are desired. Notably, other religious themes of thought also carry some of this yearning for peace, and often through very similar principles. So as we climbed to the top of the hill behind the Tran Huyen Temple in our ties and white shirts, we could with the Buddhist monk there, also unashamedly ring the large cast bell, the Peace bell, that reminds the surrounds of that yearning. Perhaps you can also hear the resonant call for peace. It is a call made most convincing coming from true Kings and genuine Queens- the covenant-keeping, righteous-living kind!

Fashion Sense, The Poor and Needy, and more..

                                  

With an abundance of the world's clothing being manufactured in the factories of Vietnam, it should not surprise one that there is a high sense of fashion awareness here. And those trends that are hot from the runways of New York or Paris make their way onto the streets of Saigon with rapidity. On the other hand, there are clearly those who have their own sense of combinations. These sisters found joy in trying on one local tradition.

                                

Sometimes we feel like mis-fits here- the person who doesn't gawk at a person almost 2 meters tall is the exception indeed. But even amid the stares and the comments, chuckles, and such all made with the presumed guise of not being understood, we feel we belong here. When you are with those you love, you can feel at ease. 

                              

Life here is one of contrasts and sometimes mis-matches. On the one hand, one can often see people very snappily dressed, and the Paris fashion trends (which currently seems to be anything that allows a shoulder to peek through) quickly become prevalent, almost among all walks of life, but certainly among the working classes. On the other hand, sometimes you see what comes together in functionality and wonder if their husbands laid their clothes out for them! My long-time friend Rick was ever the dapper gentleman, in his north-woodsy way, when his wife was alive to make the fashion choices for him ahead of time. When she passed away, he was mostly trained, though one could occasionally find a trace of the gauche. Helping one another look one’s best however, strikes me as a wonderful manifestation of love.

                          

But another lesson perhaps, is that mis-matches, stark contrasts, and even snide comments made under the guise of anonymity, should teach us not to judge unjustly or too quickly. Things will always seem different when you know the story behind the statement- be that "I am following the fashions" or "I could care less that I am wearing plaid and polka dots" or "Yes I am near 2 meters tall and can understand every word you say."

One of the key purposes of the church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints as enunciated by President Thomas Monson is to provide for the poor and the needy. "The poor you have always with you" said Jesus, so I suspect this purpose will be a long term project. But we do see bright spots here and there. We are pleased to share in the work of our senior couples who work heavily in the role of humanitarian service. From the over 6 million dollars expended by LDS Charities in Vietnam over the past two decades have come many loads lifted, many hearts brightened, and a restoration of human dignity. Their work with providing clean water, mobility for the handicapped, vision care, basic sanitation needs, critical newborn care ("Helping Babies Breathe") and other projects is also centered on principles of self-reliance and personal capacity building, sustainability and appropriateness. Thus those who are helped are involved in the process and gain understanding that makes the donation enabling and ennobling, rather than one of condescension that destroys dignity and creates dependence.

       

Public assistance in Vietnam is available for those who are unable to work, or have limitations. In return for such help, they are often asked to sell lottery tickets, "vé số" to any who will buy. Often this occurs as people are setting in an open air cafe, or walking about the park. While I occasionally see people buying, I suspect more out of compassion now, the work must be highly discouraging, full of rejection. 

Street musicians are relatively common here, but they are quite distinct from those one might see in a subway or crowded marketplace in the US or Europe. In the cities here, the musician is most often a singer or small ensemble of blind or otherwise handicapped individuals. They perform in front of a banner on a small stage with robust amplification, usually near a busy street corner. And rather than putting down a hat or instrument case for contributions, "charity boxes" are put by the side of the street, on the medians or other places, so that passing motorbikers can contribute a few đồng. The banner behind the performers will announce the supporting agency that is helping the class of handicapped individuals. Most often the performers appear near the end of the work week, I think hoping to coincide with payday, and they will play for hours, though always stopping before 10 pm, which seems to be the polite curfew. Since our apartment is above one of the busier intersections for such performance, we are grateful for this.

Handicapped gentleman selling "ve so" in the park each morning

                             

Social idealism is evident in the Soviet-influenced sculptures outside the Central Post Office, and in many other locations in the cities.

                             

Birdcage lighting in a local restaurant made me smile and wonder what other creative thoughts are "caged up" in our lives.

                             

I shall end this post here with one more musing on the ideals and the inequities we hold in our hearts, sing of in our anthems, and dream of in our speeches. There is a lot of that here- slogans and admonitions, and there may also be some solutions, but like most places, there are still hard problems- what to do about the inequality of opportunities and wealth, the inequities of health, disease, misfortune and choices, and how to keep men's hearts aware of one another and willing to help. Restraining greed, channeling charity, restoring dignity, ennobling the poor, humbling the proud, comforting the afflicted-- these are all gospel virtues, gospel impacts, that have to start in the heart, but may benefit from social structures and incentive. We are hopeful that over time here they will be felt and appreciated as the Gospel of Jesus Christ becomes part of the fabric of society, not a mis-fit.