Rev. Park Hyung Gyu has been pastor of the 300-member Jeil (First) Presbyterian Church in Seoul since October, 1971, and chairman of the Seoul Metropolitan Community Organization (SMCO) since its founding in September, 1971. The 53 year old Park (no relation to the South Korean President Park Chung Hee) served two churches before becoming general secretary of the Korean Student Christian Movement in the ‘60s.
After a merger of Korean student organizations in 1969, he became editor of a monthly magazine, Christian Thought. He served one year as program director of the Christian Broadcasting System in Seoul until forced to resign after the national election of 1971. He chose to become a Congregational pastor again and, with Jeil Church as a base, initiated a number of inner city programs. The SMCO, one of the more creative and successful programs, has helped to organize squatters in every major slum in and around Seoul.
Park is committed to proclaiming the gospel of liberation to the poor and oppressed. He is also committed to basic human and democratic rights. As a result, the present dictatorship has considered him a double threat and has arrested him four times. In 1973 and again in 1974 he was charged with “plotting to overthrow the government by force.”
The first charge resulted from Park’s alleged connection with leaflets distributed at an Easter sunrise service. The leaflets bore such messages as “God have mercy on our foolish king.” The 1974 charge was based on Park’s support for students who planned (but never carried off) a peaceful demonstration for the restoration of democracy.
In 1975 he was charged with “embezzling church funds”--SMCO funds which he had authorized for legitimate SMCO projects. Last June he was detained on suspicion of “communist activity.” Park has spent nearly half of the last four years in prison.
Park is now out of prison but under constant Korean CIA (KCIA) surveillance. The following interview took place in his home recently, following a taxi ride in two cars which both went in wrong directions until the KCIA tail was lost.
Stentzel: Last June you were arrested for the fourth time. What were circumstances?
Park: The arrests were part of one of the government’s more organized campaigns to label certain forms of Christian witness “communist.” There were two major targets--ministry to the poor people, particularly slum dwellers and laborers, and the church’s ecumenical network--the NCC, WCC and the Christian Conference of Asia. The government published two pamphlets to “prove” communist infiltration of the church. First there was “Christianity and Communism in Korea,” inspired by the Minister of Unification, You San Guine; then “Understanding Korean Christianity” by Kim Chae Guk, vice-head of the Seoul City Police Bureau. Soon the arrests began, aimed at SMCO as in the past. The government plan was probably to get the top people and then move on to crush all Urban Industrial Mission projects.
Stentzel: What happened after your arrest?
Park: I was grilled for 22 straight days. It was the first time I felt that maybe God had abandoned me and the church and Korea. During the first, second and third arrests, there were no such desperate moments; I was sure that even though we were suffering we would win. But this time the interrogators were barbaric. The police investigators were so involved in this anticommunist stuff, they were so desperate, that they couldn’t hear or understand me. They constantly threatened torture to get me to sign their confession that I was a communist spy. They were so determined, I was afraid. Since I didn’t know what was happening on the outside, I felt desperate. But somehow I kept my standing as a Christian. I never yielded.
During the interrogation, the KCIA produced nearly everything I’d written or said in the past five years. They even had detailed notes from the course I taught on Christianity and Communism at Hankuk Theological Seminary. They produced my lectures from the time of the July 4, 1972, North-South Korean accords to show how my sympathy for détente was sympathy for communism.
Stentzel: You mention the fear and desperation. Where did you get the strength to resist?
Park: When I would not confess, I felt ready to die through torture or some other means. I was ready to give everything up into God’s hands. Then some peace of mind came back. There was new strength. I was prepared to stand in court and say everything accurately--to say that the repressive government itself is the communist agent in this society. By acting in the same repressive way as the communists, the government is planting the seeds and preparing peoples’ minds for communism. By accusing all who speak their conscience of being communists, they make more communists.
There’s something wrong with a government that sees me as a dangerous person. They assign me political motives, they call me a communist agitator and, because of my contacts with students, they accuse me of organizing an underground movement. But I never had time to! I have only spoken my conscience. It’s not my activities, but their conscience which bothers them. Any reference to social justice or human rights strikes fear in them.
Stentzel: How have your arrests affected your ministry? I’m thinking particularly of the disruption this must have created in your church.
Park: Well, I guess you could say that God has given me two parish ministries--one among my congregation and the other inside various prisons. The ministries are similar, because they both exist in a prison atmosphere, but there are important differences in degree.
Following my first arrest many Christians, including most of my congregation, were encouraged to speak out. It wasn’t I who created that situation, it was the government, through its exaggerated claims and propaganda about me. Most of the congregation stood firm. But within the past year especially, the government has tried to persuade church members to accuse and attack me. They say that my activities and my arrest record show a “bad influence.” Police investigators frequently harass and threaten church members to find out more about me. They try to divide the church and force me to resign. So some members are now weak and hesitating. Others say I am a hero. I am no hero. I was simply pulled by events, by a situation I could not avoid. These two reactions have confirmed my intention to keep off the front-lines now. When I preach I frequently speak in parables. But this leaves the younger members discouraged. They say I’m too mild.
The last two times I came out of prison, my church was so divided and discouraged that I felt like giving up all hope of reconstructing the church. Yet there were always some who would comfort me and stand with me. I am very fortunate for my friends here and everywhere. I feel protected by God’s providence.
Stentzel: What about your prison ministry?
Park: One cannot idealize prison life, especially the winters and the painful loneliness of solitary confinement. Yet there is a sense of solidarity, of community, of spiritual bond forged by fire that rises out of the prison experience. It holds us together--not only the political prisoners and the thieves and common criminals but also some of the guards and other prison employees who know that they too are victims of the system.
Desperation is daily in prison. I found special comfort in reading the Bible. Soon other prisoners came to understand me, and they too began reading the Bible. The Holy Spirit was among us. On our way to our prison jobs in the morning, and on the way back in the evening, we would see each other and give words of comfort and encouragement, many times just by eyes and facial expressions.
Stentzel: I understand that you also preached and baptized in prison.
Park: In 1974, when I was sentenced to 15 years, I dropped the appeal to the High Court because I did not recognize the authority of the law or the courts. I was moved to Yongdongpo Prison where, after one week in solitary, I joined the other criminals. The prison has a “Protestant Room.” Each morning and evening about 20 people came, and I gave a short meditation and prayer. On Sunday there were two services. Soon some of the prisoners asked to be baptized, so on Christmas day we had six baptisms. I had asked my wife to bring Bibles to present to them. Three of them are now out of prison, and two are attending my church.
When we read the Bible together in prison, it had new meaning. We felt that the poor in spirit are blessed. It’s easy to accept the gospel in prison. In total hopelessness, there is still hope. Looking into the hopeless eyes of a fellow prisoner, I felt the Holy Spirit with me and God working through me to fill them with some hope. One night when I was in solitary last year, the guard who brought me the food looked into my eyes and asked, “Pastor Park, do you really think there’s a God?” We talked for three or four minutes before another guard shouted at us. Afterwards I felt that, unconsciously, through my prayer or faith or peace of mind, something is recognized by other people. There are many ways to witness to the Christian faith.
Stentzel: What about some of your interrogators?
Park: Even last June, in the depths of my despair, an interrogator confessed late one night that he understood my position, and I expressed my sympathy for his position. A police guard who stayed with me two or three nights expressed interest in Christianity and said he’d like to send his family to my church. Early one morning this man and another guard left the room when all kinds of torture equipment was brought in. They returned several hours later, asking how bad it had been, and explaining that they had to leave because they couldn’t bear to see or hear it.
Their spirit was one with mine, and this helped very much. I’m thankful for such occasions to give faith and receive hope. We shouldn’t make these lower officials in the police, prison, KCIA or government--we shouldn’t make them our enemies. Deep in our hearts, our faith and our struggle is the same. Even those who remained adamant and expressed no sympathy, I could read it in their faces. We have many friends n this country who cannot yet express it. They must obey.
I remember Paul in the prison at Philippi after the earthquake. The guards believed Paul’s message and were baptized. In a different form, we’re going through the same process.
Stentzel: But didn’t you ever find it difficult to love your enemies?
Park: It’s funny, but I never hated anyone who tortured me. I felt I was happier than they. At least I was living according to my conscience. They were in positions where they could not.
Well, on second thought, there were some bad moments. When an interrogator would scream obscenities and brutally press some point, sometimes I felt the momentary urge to kill him. But afterwards I would repent and try to be kind to him.
The personalities of these interrogators is really twisted. I pity them and their distorted minds. Yet most of them were just acting under orders reminding me how in prison I was freer than they were.
Stentzel: What Bible passages meant the most to you in prison?
Park: I read the whole Bible, but some things stood out--the Psalms, especially 37 and 73, which become very real; Job, Paul’s letter to the Philippians. Jeremiah, Amos In the past year I’ve discovered something new in Ezekiel--that he was dumb for two years, he could not speak, just before the fall of Jerusalem. Even though he was in Babylon, he prophesied the fall of Jerusalem, and then was dumb for two years.
I interpret that as meaning that it was too dangerous for Ezekiel to repeat the prophecy before Jerusalem fell. So last February, when I was released from prison for the third time, I thought perhaps I should become dumb for two years, to go into hiding. But I was not allowed to.
I also noticed that Amos prophesied for two years and then disappeared. I thought maybe this could be my excuse to absent myself from this struggle. But my church wouldn’t allow it! My message is not as strong as before, though. I avoid direct political things. As I said, I want to keep off the front lines. But it every difficult to do so when I see the families of prisoners today. If I do not appear, they feel I don’t care. So I appear.
I’d like to go back to a more normal, peaceful life for a while. I’d like some time to rebuild my church to what it was. I’d like to do more pastoral care than before. But the situation will not allow that. Besides, if I totally withdrew, only the government and the KC would be happy--and they would feel that, if they hit others as hard as me, they could crush and silence them too.
Stentzel: Do you ever feel there is little hope for change in this country?
Park: It seemed so for a while last summer. But I’ve never given up hope. Change is always going on--Carter gets elected, he promises more attention to human rights, the Korean government responds by trying to appear more moderate. But, you know, it’s really a matter of eschatology. Change ultimately will not come through the government or even through us. It will come in a strange way we cannot yet prophesy. The point for us is to be sincere and devoted every day of our lives.
I’ve become more interested in New Testament eschatology lately--live today as the last day. That makes us more sincere, maybe happier, always more hopeful. I understood this while reading Cullman and others, but it’s the series of arrests and imprisonments that really opened my eyes. I never calculated evil, but it has been shown to me. I have given up calculation, strategy and tactics--even if for the “good.” I’ve chosen to rely more on pure sincerity than on tactical thinking. But this does not mean that we can be naive. Some “sincere” former prisoners now tell everything. That’s naive. My sincerity is very complicated. With the KCIA I must be tactful. I open my mind and heart to you, but not to everybody. People accuse me of being proud for not speaking to everybody. But it’s necessary in this kind of situation.
Stentzel: Have you been a Christian all of your life?
Park: Yes, I was raised by a Christian mother. She dedicated my life to the ministry when I was born, and she gave me a name meaning “Holy Way.” When I was baptized at age 17 the name was too much to live up to, so I gave it up. I also gave up the ministry because I didn’t feel good enough to be a minister.
I went through a heavy intellectual period, studying philosophy in college and trying to develop a better apologetic for Christianity. After the Korean War I went through a deep crisis over the meaning of life and history. I became very sick with tuberculosis and spent one year in a sanatorium. It was after this that I experienced my second conversion and decided to give up all secular work and enter seminary at age 32.
Stentzel: At what point did you get “radicalized”?
Park: I’ve always held up a nonviolent ideology and democratic ideals. The radicalizing began with the new constitution [in 1972]. It meant the total usurpation of all human rights and the beginning of totalitarian dictatorship. That made me a little more radical. Then each emergency decree pushed me a little further. The decrees violated even the railroaded constitution because then really was no “state of emergency.” With each new decree, I became more furious regarding the government. I felt an historical responsibility to stand up--that if the church was silent at this moment, then Christianity would become irrelevant throughout the whole Korean peninsula.
The church has already been killed in north Korea; now it is facing crisis and possible death in south Korea. Christians, those who call themselves the church, the body of Christ, have to stand up where others in the press and academia can’t or won’t.
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