Editor’s Note: This is Part 2 of a dual reflection on The War and Women’s Human Rights Museum (aka “Comfort Women Memorial”) by Eimi Ichimura, a Ph.D. student, and Paul Kim, a professor of psychology at Seattle Pacific University. Emi identifies as Japanese American and Paul identifies as Korean American. They disclose this information upfront so that what is shared in this blog piece is contextualized against the backdrop of their ethnic backgrounds. The museum is filled with painful stories of women who were forced into sexual slavery during the Japanese colonial period.
Paul: Psalm 10 paints a vivid image of the oppressor who victimizes the innocent: “He lies in wait near the villages; from ambush he murders the innocent. His eyes watch in secret for his victims; like a lion in cover he lies in wait” (verses 8-9a NIV).
As difficult as it is, by visiting the Museum, I want my students to learn the full picture of the brutalization of young girls and women that occurred. The soldiers who attacked them. But also, the larger system (i.e., the Japanese government during WWII) that created and maintained the structure for sexual slavery. And I want them to shudder at the evil of this oppression.
But Psalm 10 also includes cries of worship to God, “You, Lord, hear the desire of the afflicted; you encourage them, and you listen to their cry, defending the fatherless and the oppressed” (17-18a; NIV). Likewise, I wish for my students to hope in the Lord, in the restoration of all things including the dignity of the halmonis, even if it has not yet taken place. I pray for my students to be so moved by empathy when they learn of the halmonis stories that they declare who they know God to be – listener, encourager, and defender – and allow this declaration to sustain their hope.
Emi: Your observation about the challenges of waiting resonates deeply. The imagery you shared of your former student waiting for the morning captures that experience: the restlessness, the darkness, and the temptation to relinquish hope. It vividly illustrates the struggle with pain and isolation in one’s traumatic experience, and the learned impulse to disconnect from one’s body in search of peace, forgetting that true peace was meant to feel whole. I’m particularly grateful for your encouragement to engage in prayer as a path to renewed hope, and to remember God’s nature and capabilities– it reassures that it’s safe to hope.
We (along with another student) worshipped together at a church in Seoul where the pastor spoke about the importance of work in faithful Christian living. I was thinking about how the fall was followed by a “renewal of purpose” – specifically, to do good works: “For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them” (Ephesians 2:9-10 KJV). In Ecclesiastes 12:13-14 (KJV): “Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man. For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil.”
I wondered after hearing this message whether empathy might be not only an effective response for promoting justice and restoration but perhaps even essential to fulfilling our purpose according to the Christian faith. Is it possible that engaging in good works, even when it feels insufficient, is precisely what God intends for us? …though I understand that explicitly stating this sentiment might inadvertently alter the motivation one has for hope.
Paul: That’s an excellent point about the necessity of action as part of the waiting, the hoping. Hope is not a passive posture. Instead, as you alluded to, true hope includes our diligent participation in God’s restorative work. Although the Museum focused mainly on increasing awareness, it also highlighted a few action steps that we can take. There was a table where we could add our names and contact information to a petition demanding a better response from the Japanese government. Next to this table was a note-writing station where messages of conviction, empathy, or lament could be written and then displayed on a wall outside of the Museum, alongside similar messages from other visitors around the world. The Museum staff encouraged us to post about our visit on social media with the #warandwomenshumanrightsmuseum as the hashtag. And of course, students purchasing merchandise and books from the gift shop is a tangible financial support of the Museum. All quick and small action steps, but action steps, nonetheless.
In fact, did you happen to catch this exchange during our visit? On a typical group visit to the Museum, a staff member would have delivered a presentation to us about the Japanese colonial period, sexual slavery, and the courage of the halmonis. But on the day of our visit, the particular staff member was away from the Museum to participate in the Wednesday Protests. It was a quick conversation, but I was struck and challenged by this educator’s willingness to “walk the talk.”
Emi: That’s powerful. I wasn’t aware of that—it’s these quiet acts of dedication that often leave the deepest impression, aren’t they?
I suppose that just as God is aware of every harmful and ill-intended deed, like the atrocities committed against the comfort women, He also bears witness to every act of goodness, including those during the long periods of waiting we sometimes endure. It reminds me of a piece of wisdom my dear friend Abijah shared with me when I was feeling overwhelmed and preoccupied with my unfinished work. Her words still resonate with me: “I want you to be reminded of the very simple truth that God really deeply loves you, and when He watches your feeble attempts to bring Him glory, He loves you. Not because you finally have moments of getting it right. But because you’re His creation and you’re His child.”
Her insight helps me reconcile two seemingly contradictory truths: change is happening even when we don’t feel it in the moment, and it’s okay to find solace in knowing that even our humblest endeavors are seen and cherished by a love that knows no bounds. In the face of overwhelming challenges, like those faced by the comfort women, perhaps this dual awareness can offer motivation to continue working for justice in times of doubt or weariness —spurring us to action while also providing the grace to persevere through long periods of waiting and working for change.
- This publication was made possible through the support of a grant from The Wake Forest University and the Lilly Endowment Inc. The opinions expressed in this publication are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of Wake Forest University or the Lilly Endowment Inc.
- We are grateful to Dr. Brittany Tausen for her helpful feedback on an earlier version of this blog post.
