By Phyllis Myung
As we approach the one year anniversary of the Atlanta spa shootings, please join us in a time of prayer, lament, and hope. For more details and to register, please click here.
K
oreans do this thing called 제사 (jesa) to honor and remember those who have passed. I recently came back from holding a 제사 for my father-in-law who had passed away suddenly and unexpectedly last year - just a few weeks before the Atlanta murders on March 16, 2021. And one year later, I find myself also holding 제사 for these women who were killed—I did not know them personally, but they were my ummas, my imos, my sisters. I want to remember them and I want them to be remembered—not for how their life on earth came to an end, but for how they lived.
Because of them, I am here. Because of them, my daughter is here. Because of them, there will be generations of Asian American women who rise and prevail.
For me, the pandemic has been a time of heightened awareness and fear because of my Korean American face and body. But with those heightened senses, also came boldness, anger, and perseverance. This past year has been a mix of all those things in the midst of the constant heaviness of and weariness at the sharp rise in hate against the AAPI community.
Last year for our AACC virtual prayer rally in Boston, we began our time together with this prayer—a prayer that is still burning on our lips today: "Creator God who lovingly created humanity in your own image, we cry out to you. Our souls, our hearts, our minds are deeply troubled and the air we are gasping for seems heavy, thick, and suffocating. We mourn and grieve for the lives that were lost. We mourn and grieve for the families that were left behind. We mourn and grieve for those who identify as AAPI, especially AAPI women. God, have you forgotten us? In our silence and our silencing, do you hear our hearts that are broken, wounded, angry? God do you see us even though the rest of the world does not? Did you hear our sisters calling out to you as their lives were being taken away? God, you ask, “Where is your sister?” And God, we answer you: she is here in our arms because we are our sister's keeper. Do not abandon us in this time of overwhelming and constant grief. We come with our hands open to you because you are our only hope. God, in your mercy, hear our prayers. AMEN."
This year, as we hold 제사 for our ummas, imos, and sisters, I invite us to renew our commitment to one another. God has made plain throughout Scripture what is required of us. As followers of Christ, we are to love one another as ourselves. We are to seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow. Isaiah 1:13-17 (The Message) says this:
"Quit your worship charades. I can't stand your trivial religious games: Monthly conferences, weekly Sabbaths, special meetings—meetings, meetings, meetings—I can't stand one more! Meetings for this, meetings for that. I hate them! You've worn me out! I'm sick of your religion, religion, religion, while you go right on sinning. When you put on your next prayer-performance, I'll be looking the other way. No matter how long or loud or often you pray, I'll not be listening. And do you know why? Because you've been tearing people to pieces, and your hands are blood. Go home and wash up. Clean up your act. Sweep your lives clean of your evildoings so I don't have to look at them any longer. Say no to wrong. Learn to do good. Work for justice. Help the down-and-out. Stand up for the homeless. Go to bat for the defenseless."
To my AAPI siblings, let's say to one another: "I will protect you. We will protect one another. I will speak up for you. I will hold your hand when you need to be brave. We will speak up, together. We will hold each other up in those times where we need to be brave. We will hold each other up when it is difficult."
For those of you who have come alongside the AAPI community to stand with us, I ask not for support, but for solidarity. Solidarity is costly, sacrificial, humble, and asks "밥 먹었어요?" Or in English, "Have you eaten?" Solidarity means giving of your time, your resources, your energy, and your influence. It is helping your AAPI siblings to raise their voice—not speaking on their behalf—but to make space for their voice to be heard. It is listening, believing, fighting together—shoulder to shoulder against injustice.
A year later, my anger still burns and my grief is still overwhelming. The fear still remains, but boldness and perseverance, that is rooted in the memories and legacies of the six women who were murdered on March 16 of last year, are what steels my heart and body to continued action and continued prayer.
Photo by Mike Labrum on Unsplash
Phyllis Myung is the Next Generation pastor at Highrock In Acton, MA, which is a suburb west of Boston. She lives with her husband, daughter, and rescue dog in a little red house. Phyllis loves Jesus, her family, the ocean, BTS, and hamburgers. When she’s not dreaming big about the next generation, you can find her watching K-dramas, dancing along to BTS, writing, and trying to read through her very high stack of books on desk. Her favorite part of ministry is journeying alongside kids, youth, and their families.