Milwaukee
My first week of pioneering I had so many experiences with God and so many insights, I wanted to share them with someone, but I was all alone. For more than six months I had been living with more than one hundred brothers and sisters 24/7. I missed them. I tried to join a Christian group in their evening prayer service, but they were suspicious of me. I also knew that their understanding of God was different from mine. God is Almighty on a throne to most Christians; complete without us. Divine Principle teaches that God is suffering akin to being in prison, reaching out to us, longing for a relationship with each person and incomplete without us. Thus I felt a yearning for brothers and sisters who knew God as I did and knew that True Parents were on the earth. I imagined if I were in a communist country; members might not even be able to talk to one another, but even just seeing each other, knowing that we know what we do- that would be such an immense comfort. We could just subtly nod and continue on, vividly aware of our cosmic connection. Then I imagined the most homely brother from Barrytown, one whose face had always been morose. Even to see him would be such a joy. In this way I felt the profound value of every brother and sister. Media I witnessed to a man who turned out to be a newspaper reporter. He was inspired by what I shared about Divine Principles and our ideals over the course of a week. So much so that he decided to write a positive article. When he presented it to be published, the editor refused, saying he had already decided to take a negative stance toward Rev. Moon and the Unification Church. He would not budge. At some point missionaries were given a condition to street preach. I chose rush hour to stand on a downtown street corner and loudly proclaim that God was alive and well, etc. A female news reporter came over and asked if she could interview me for the evening news; I was nervous, but I said yes. This is a way I can support God’s providence, I thought, and reach more people. The news truck came over; sound equipment was set up. The woman introduced me on her microphone, then right before I was about to speak, she hissed very threateningly in my ear, “Don’t you DARE say anything about God!” I was so shocked, I couldn’t say anything. NOTHING! First I was totally taken aback by her virulent attitude- it was completely unexpected. Next, my mind was doing somersaults trying to figure out a way to talk about God without saying God. She walked away with contemptful disgust. If I didn’t know it before, I now knew that I do not think fast on my feet. Was that my ‘15 seconds of fame’ that I just squandered? With True Father in East Garden Before Yankee Stadium Rally, True Father held monthly meetings at East Garden with international leaders and representatives from each state. One month I was chosen to represent Wisconsin at the meeting because I had brought three young men to join. But American missionaries were sent out more than six months earlier with the goal; 1-1-1. (Each missionary should bring one spiritual child every month) I went to NY, but I deeply dreaded being asked my result since it was inadequate. When I arrived, European leaders were giving their reports. In Germany and France, communists were attacking our centers sometimes with handmade bombs. When guests came to the centers for an evening program, their license plate numbers were taken down and researched. Soon they were threatened at their workplace- if you continue to visit the Unification Church, you will be fired. After these reports, True Father shared his plans to build a factory to make chocolates for fundraising product. He passed around some samples to everyone. He also spoke about America’s sin of racism. “We need black and white marriages to solve this problem”, he said. Then he asked a few white leaders, “What race do you want your children to marry?” They each answered, with slightly red faces, “Korean, Father.” After a while, True Father dismissed everyone except the American missionaries. He wanted to talk to us alone. About fifty of us gathered around his chair, sitting on the floor. He just looked at us for a while- all young, eager faces- perhaps like baby birds waiting for food from their parent. Finally, he asked, “Is it difficult?” A handful of members responded, “Yes, Father.” (There was no way I was going to say, Yes. I knew True Father had been in prison and tortured.) True Father smiled, then said, “How else can you understand my heart?” Then he said the last thing I expected him to say, ”I trust you.” I do not know if anyone there had brought the result asked of us, but now True Father was saying that he trusted us! How awesome!. I don’t remember anything else he said. I was stunned. My brain stopped. This profound love- is not trust love?- It filled me so thoroughly there was no room for anything else. True Father trusted me! I shall never forget it. I carried this gift with me back to Wisconsin; I carry it with me still. It is an awesome thing- to be trusted. It evokes the desire to be worthy of that trust. Wherever I have gone since then, I remember- True Father trusts me; I do not want to ever betray that trust. God’s Bookmark I was raised Jewish and did not know much about Jesus while I was growing up. However, American society is imbued with Christian principles. I had heard that we should love everyone. (Jewish focus is on universal justice.) I remember sitting under an overpass, 1972 when I was in college, watching thousands of cars drive by on a freeway far below. I wondered ‘How is it possible to love everyone?’ thinking of all those people driving by. It seemed impossible. I thought loving required knowing something about each person, their hopes and dreams, their character. I left without an answer. God must have put a bookmark there- to return to later. One night, in Milwaukee’s suburbs, I had just finished fundraising door-to-door and was waiting at a bus stop to go home. A very light snow was falling. The street lights had just flickered on and a soft glow surrounded them, beautifying the scene. It was dusk. Sunday. No one was out; it was very quiet. I was alone with my thoughts when suddenly, about a block or two away, a person exited one door and entered another. In that split second, an energy from my being, perhaps some part of my aura, reached out to include that person in my energy field. Beyond my conscious effort, my energy stretched out like that. I felt an immediate connection to this person; my spirit knew intrinsically that all human beings are interconnected, brothers and sisters. Most likely I will never see this person again, or ever meet him or her, but I felt their value. Then I remembered my overpass experience and realized that I did not need to know a person’s character, their hopes or dreams. Because every human being is precious to God, they are precious to me as well. Also, God is such a sincere Being. He/She will answer every question we have ever asked when we are ready to receive the answer. A Dark Cloud Over Madison Although I started off my pioneering alone in Milwaukee, eventually more members were assigned there along with a leader. At one point, I was mandated to go to Madison, for a few weeks. It lies about eighty miles north- a university town and the state’s capital. When I got off the bus, I immediately felt a dark cloud over the city, On campus, there was a chapel; I was pleasantly surprised. (In Milwaukee someone bought and transferred the original chapel where Joan of Arc prayed- before her execution).This chapel had brochures for upcoming services and sermons: the theme was ‘Liberators of the people’: Jesus, Karl Marx, Che Guevara. It was my first exposure to Liberation Theology, a mixture of Christianity, politics and social action- invariably promoting communism. About a week after I arrived, a traveling CARP team came with a public event which I supported. As I was handing out flyers, a male student rapped me hard on the head and threatened confidently, “When the revolution comes, you’ll be the first to go.” CARP had large promotional posters with True Father’s face on them; pro-communist students kicked and ripped them apart. Years later I learned that three key universities had been chosen by Marxist strategists to infiltrate America - through its youth: Columbia on the East Coast; Madison in the Midwest; Berkeley on the West Coast. Pro-communist professors were, unwittingly (or not), employed on these campuses, teaching various subjects: Political and Social Thought, History, Russian Language- even Art and Literature. Of course, every campus was and is an opportunity to spread dialectical/materialism which appeals to the idealism of youth and their desire to bring about change. Fully aware of that, True Father started CARP- Collegiate Association for the Research of Principles and, soon after, CAUSA, which directly addressed Liberation Theology with a counter-proposal- Godism. Crazy is Normal A month before Yankee Stadium Rally, the entire state’s membership drove to NY to support the event- except me. I was asked to stay behind and fundraise to pay the center’s bills. A day or so before the event, an associate member was supposed to drive me, but he disappeared. I had no license and very little driving experience, but I drove myself anyway (I left from Chicago where I had fundraised for the month- twelve and a half hours- about 780 miles) I hope that my children never do the crazy, dangerous things I did when I was young. But I have always considered fighting communism with the Messiah as emergency time, thus crazy was normal. After Yankee Stadium, I never returned to Wisconsin. Love, Gratitude and Blessings to a Sacrificial Brother One of my spiritual sons, GC, was an associate member in Milwaukee. I would hear about him throughout the years through other members; he was matched, then blessed, then received a gift child. One day, a national CARP leader came to encourage youth in my state. She shared about how sacrificial her parents were; she rarely saw them while growing up. But one associate member took such good care of her and her siblings for years: picking them up from school, feeding them, taking them to martial art classes, etc. It turned out to be my spiritual son! It was a gift from God to hear that this person to whom I had witnessed many years ago was busy helping others so unselfishly!. What a joy and a comfort to my heart! Stories like this make life worth living.
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After attending 40-day and 120-day workshops in Barrytown, our training center in Irvington, NY, I was sent out as a missionary to Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Completely alone, I had to find a place to stay, buy product (with $20 seed money), fundraise and witness. After two or three months, I was steadily moving along, when an itinerary called me to return to NY. She said that True Father wanted to gather and evaluate members from across the country who had musical ability. Although I generally love to sing, I was not enthusiastic about leaving my mission. The emergency of saving the world from communism weighed heavily upon my mind and heart; witnessing was the most important mission possible. What if I were chosen for a musical assignment? I would have to obey, but how could I leave the front line- to sing!!
My last name starts with an ‘A’ and I was the first person of about 100 members to perform. I decided on “Pong Song Hwa” a famous Korean song that I had learned from my brother-in-law’s US Army handbook. If I had known how sad it was - and how very heartistic Koreans are- I never would have sung it, but it was the only song I knew in Korean. I sang a second one also: ‘Cockeyed Optimist’ from South Pacific. Although it is a light-hearted, cheerful song I felt like a thousand pounds were weighing down upon me as I stood before True Father. (Col. Pak later approached me and told me he liked the song, most likely Pong Song Hwa). Many hours passed as everyone performed. Then dinner was served. . Afterwards, True Father gave fascinating remarks about many of the performances. One brother, DE, who was a professionally trained musician, was extremely enthusiastic and astonished at True Father’s insights. Quite a few members were given new missions. True Father wanted to start an ongoing witnessing program at the New Yorker called ‘Down Home Inn’ that would require entertainment. At the very end of a long day, he said, “Some people have missions that are too important to leave.” I wanted to cry with joy; it was as though he read my mind and then spoke my thoughts, word for word. Later I learned what a significant song Pong Song Hwa was, embodying Koreans’ angst at Japan’s brutal occupation. Pong song hwa is a flower that represents Korea in the song. I decided to write an English translation and a slightly modified version with a more hopeful ending. The oppressive ‘wall’ signifies Communism in North Korea and ‘love’s pure light’ in the last verse indicates that God will inspire many good people from around the world to come to Korea and support its peaceful reunification. Love’s pure light is also the Divine Principle. Pong Song Hwa adapted English translation What flower lies here In withering sleep Beneath this wall’s cold shadow deep Once maidens danced so joyously To find your blossoms’ great beauty Though now you languish in the night You soon will bloom in love’s pure light. Barrytown was originally a Christian Brothers Boarding school built by Rockefeller in the early 1900s. The Unification Church purchased it in 1974 and initially used it as a training center. In September 1975 it officially became the Unification Theological Seminary. This incident happened shortly before UTS was founded.
This was originally written as a private letter to a brother who was writing a book about Jesus. Later, it was printed in a collection of members’ testimonies. 2001 Dear KM, I finally took the time to put into words my experience, though it was not easy. It is such a profound moment; one that transcends time and remains as vivid today in my mind and heart as though it happened this morning, although it was 26 years ago. It is so difficult to capture the full impact of such an experience in mere words. I would like to ask that you please pray before reading my testimony, since I feel my ability to convey it is inadequate, and I truly want God to help you gain from my sharing. Near Barrytown, New York, is the Unification Theological Seminary, a training center where 21-day, 40-day and 120-day workshops were held. The experience I would like to share happened in 1975 as I participated in the second 120-day workshop led by Rev. Sudo. Rev. Sudo was always praying for us to have deep, breakthrough experiences in prayer. It must have been after a lecture on Jesus’ life course, around Easter time, that a prayer walk was planned for early in the morning. All the workshop participants would participate, easily over one hundred. It was to be in ‘Benedictine silence’, meditatively walking in single file, along a path that later would be called “True Mother’s Trail”. At the beginning of the walk, there would be a small choir, singing traditional hymns; along the trail, there would be readers stationed at intervals, reading passages from the Bible and True Father’s words about Jesus. We would continue along this path that wound through a wooded area, down a hill by a lake, up a hill, and then ended at a clearing where we would all gather, sing a few songs, and close our walk with prayer. I was in the choir. There were three or four of us on each side of the path, and we sang some beautiful and simple hymns. I remember “Be thou My Vision” was one of them. After the last person passed between us, we fell silent and followed behind. I was the very last in line. From where I was standing, I could see people winding their way into the woods and disappearing from sight, then a long trail of people reappearing up the hill in the distance and already beginning to gather in the clearing. Suddenly, inexplicably, I felt myself to be in the crowd of people following Jesus to Golgotha. I began weeping uncontrollably. I was shocked, dismayed and horrified. I was confused: how could it be two thousand years ago? But the leaves on the bushes beside the trail revealed to me that Jesus had just passed by them, sharing with me the scene with all the sounds, the colors, the smells. The air was charged with energy. Every leaf was intensely clear and vivid, screaming out in agony, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Their accusations were piercing. “DON’T YOU KNOW WHO THIS IS? THE LORD OF CREATION! GOD’S SON! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” I can still feel the intensity of the air; every particle of creation, every molecule was participating in the grief, writhing. Nothing was indifferent. Groaning. Groaning, groaning in travail. I felt an immense, profound longing, as though my soul was screaming desperately to stop what was happening, yet I was unable to stop it, in a hysteria of helplessness. Creation had an excuse, without hands and mouths and feet. But here I was a human being! Why could I do nothing? Why could I not stop this insanity? Why? Why? Why? Why? The sobbing continued to wrack my body as wave after wave of despair and misery swept over me. I felt imprisoned in powerlessness, imprisoned in agony. It was difficult to walk, to put one foot in front of the other. I wanted to crumble to the ground and scream and wail and beat the earth. In my mind, I was screaming, “WHAT CAN I DO?!” What could I do at this very moment, a witness to history, the worst tragedy of humankind? All of creation was glaring at my sin, humankind’s sin, and it was irreversible. In the alternative, diminished reality, I knew I was supposed to reach the top of the hill and sing; my sense of duty kept me from collapsing. I begged Heavenly Father to help me to see from His point of view, hoping to rise above the anguish and continue on to my destination. Instead, my sorrow only intensified, piercing me from every direction. Heavenly Father shared that this scene was excruciatingly painful for Him to watch. He shared that turning away from His son on the cross was the most difficult thing He ever had to do. Wave after wave of anguish beat down upon me, relentlessly. I don’t know how I made it up that hill, but I finally staggered to the clearing and sang the required amount of time, tears pouring down my face. When unison prayer was announced, I gratefully crumbled to the ground and allowed the sobbing to completely overtake me. The realization of the enormity of this tragedy flooded me in unbearable, uncontrollable grief. I moaned and shrieked and wailed. The creation stood as mute witnesses, in shock of such an unspeakable violation of love. Eventually, everyone left from the clearing, except one brother. He stood by, watching, wondering what he could do. He very kindly asked if he could help. When I reassured him I would be all right, he left. I was all alone and still could not stop my weeping. Every muscle in my body was spent as though I had run a marathon. Never in my life have I ever cried so deeply, so uncontrollably, yet I felt that the depths from which this sorrow came were unending. I wondered if I could endure more; perhaps I would die from the physical demands that such sobbing and sorrow required. At that moment, a voice spoke clearly and calmly in my mind, “Even if you died, completely consumed by grief, it would be as only one of God’s tears.’ The very vastness of God’s suffering stunned me into sobering calmness. My sobbing quieted to tears. Like the aftershock of a tidal wave, they would well up, pour out, then subside in successively diminishing waves until, finally, I just sat in stunned silence. Exhausted and in solemn awe, I sat for a long time. My limited mind and heart so confronted by this enormous reality, my being so drenched by the emotional ordeal, I was unable to move, unwilling to move. Creation had returned to its previous state- unintimidating, soothing, serving. Birds chirped. Trees swayed. The air allowed me to breathe freely. There was no visible evidence of what only an hour or so ago was blatantly exposed. How calm everything appeared. I continued to sit, almost afraid to move lest Heavenly Father had something more to share with me. I sat listening, listening, waiting. Finally, after a long silence, a voice spoke simply and definitively, "Follow him. Follow him.” Having been plunged into the depths of grief, confronted by the holocaust of God’s heart, seared to the marrow of my bones with regret and remorse, I survived- to recieve this direction. Slowly, I got up and walked down the hill. One cannot ‘leave’ Heavenly Father’s heart: it is everywhere. If God’s grief were released, we would all be consumed by it. In the face of such vastness, it is easy to feel minuscule, insignificant. Yet True Parents have taught us that God’s children all have the power to liberate His heart. How eternally significant we become! January 1975, downtown Chicago- I listened to a free lecture ‘about God’ in a nondescript office building; I was 20 years old. The lecturer was a young woman, a few years older than me. Her lesson was the first in a series from the Divine Principle, titled The Principle of Creation. She was so nervous her hand was shaking as she drew various diagrams on a chalkboard to illustrate her presentation, but her anxiety barely registered with me. I was intensely immersed in what she was saying.
Her explanation of the spiritual world and its relationship to the physical world was remarkably clear and well organized. I had briefly studied numerous faith traditions-Eastern and Western; there are a lot of confusing and contradictory theories about the spirit world being promoted. The Divine Principle version was closer to a scientific description, one that could stand as an overall blueprint into which other narratives could be comfortably placed without criticism, merely clarification. It was refreshingly inclusive. That was my first impression-positive and enthusiastic; I decided to return to hear the entire series. . . At future lectures, I learned that God is an artist; the Original Artist. This amicable portrayal acted as an irresistible magnet that instantly pulled my heart in. I was born an artist; my life revolved around art, both visual and musical. Art was how I communicated and connected to the world. The lecturer explained that God’s personality/character is reflected and embodied in everything that He/She created. I have had incredible experiences with nature where even a single blade of grass was astonishingly beautiful. The harmony, peace and grace of nature, the awe- evoking melting hued sunsets, even the mere existence of a single music note- pure sound- could transport me into another world beyond time and space that was more vivid than the physical reality around me. Thus, I knew absolutely: God is infinitely, awesomely beautiful- and sensitive- beyond words. Kind! And Loving! Every positive attribute that exists! Growing up, I had thought that God was far away, working on distant galaxies- unaware of insignificant humans. But Divine Principle states unequivocally that God is intimately aware of us. In fact He/She created us in order to share life and love with each and every person! God cannot be truly happy until every human being has returned to His bosom. Without warning the high walls I had constructed to protect me from the fickle, ambiguous and disconcerting world were blown apart; in stepped my new beautiful BFF. That first week, I also heard the Fall of Man which explains how human beings turned away from God. Consequently God is suffering deeply because He feels the pain of His children as His own. This absolute pure being, who has never hurt anyone, has been hurt repeatedly by the very ones whom He/She desires to love. The lecturer said that by responding to God, I could alleviate some of God’s pain. This realization was shocking! Overwhelmingly shocking! To understand why I first have to share a bit about my childhood. I was born with an extreme sensitivity to other people’s emotional pain. Feeling people’s pain- anxiety, loneliness, despair- but unable to alleviate any of it made me feel helpless and very often worthless. Sometimes I saw that I caused irritation to my parents or siblings, then I felt that my value was less than zero. My immature logic led me to justify suicide, reasoning that I was lessening the world’s pain by taking myself out of it. I tried to take my life through various means about six times between the ages of 8 and 17. My last attempt landed me in the hospital and state-mandated psychiatric counseling. Please try and imagine that if for the first 20 years of your life you lived in a dark dungeon, then suddenly you were set free, how dazzling life would be! But a key point was the sudden power I discovered I had- to alleviate God’s suffering! In one instant I went from being valueless to having infinite value- from feeling like trash to being empowered to become a brilliant diamond. Because the beginning of my life was so wretched, no matter how difficult life has been since then, I can never forget that God is with me, my beloved Parent; I never want to cause Him/Her more pain. I love the Divine Principle and the one who wrote these life-giving words, given freely to liberate people. How blessed I am to have heard these golden words. I am eternally grateful to Rev. Moon- and Mrs. Moon- who I call my True Parents; they have, without a doubt, given me new life I am not a professional musician, but somehow, God moved my heart and led me to capture my feelings again and again in song throughout my life. This song I wrote to God after hearing the full series of the Divine Principle. I borrowed the tune. Make Me a Rainbow tune: Bring Me Red Roses and Yellow Balloons Make me a rainbow from my heart to Yours And I’ll bring my friends over For long winding tours Through the fields of Your laughter To Your oceans of tears And they’ll beg to remain with You Ten thousand years Grant me wings golden That high I may fly And soar over the world With a new and clear eye And I’ll find those lands darkened Where lost children roam With my wings brightly shining I’ll guide each one home I wish for a waterfall Pure, strong and clear That can wash away all Of man’s old hate and fears And in fields that were barren Your seeds shall be sown I will faithfully water them ‘Til they’re full grown All that I ask, my dear Father above Please use me to fill This whole world with Your love All that I ask, my dear Father above, Please use me to fill This whole world with Your love. This is a collection of memoirs centering around more than twenty songs I have written from 1975 onward. I never thought I would write lyrics or develop tunes since I neither read nor write musical notes. However as far back as I can remember I have loved to sing; it was one place I felt peace and calm in my life.
Most of these songs came at momentous times in my life- exhilarating and excruciating times. The existence of each song feels like a gift from God, springing spontaneously from my heart and almost all while in communion with God. St. Augustine said, “To sing is to pray twice.” I have added spiritual experiences and snippets of my life in chronological order along with the songs. I hope that these will add more clarification to this sharing. Added note: I briefly mention my youth and childhood in these memoirs, but I will go into more detail in another collection. |
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