Understanding

"When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. They saw what appeared to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues and the Spirit enabled them."

- Acts 2:1-4

I promised myself that I would blog at least once a week. It has been a little over a week; hopefully this does not become a habit. I stated in my last blog that I would write about my experiences at church and have been asked for details several times now. I'm not really sure where to begin, or where to end, so bear with me. My first Sunday at church was one of the most nerve-wracking experiences I have had so far. It was my first time on the subway by myself and I was headed to a place I had only been once, and taking a different, supposedly easier route. Side note: we three J3's are split up into separate congregations here in Tokyo and will be in different congregations in Kumamoto as well. Gotta spread that J3 love you know.

On Sunday, November 25th I left for Koishikawa Lutheran ridiculously early. I was quite convinced I would become lost, not realize I was lost until it was too late, and have to spend a great deal of time getting back on the right track. I desperately wanted to be on time for my first day. Church starts at 10:30 and my instructions said that it would only take me about 35 to 40 minutes to get there. I left my apartment at 9:00, did not get lost, and consequently arrived at the church at 9:35. Since I was almost an hour early, I was too embarrassed to go in, so I walked around aimlessly for about twenty minutes. Then I stood in front of the church and pretended to text. Like anyone looking out from the church wouldn't know who the weird ganjin girl on the doorstep was. Finally the cold and a tad bit of courage drove me into the church. I arrived simultaneously with three women who greeted me warmly in a mix of Japanese and English, directed me to the slippers, got me signed in and signed up for lunch, and took me to the pastor.

Pastor Tokuno, or Tokuno-sensei as you would say in Japanese, turned out to be a very kind man who was in the middle of leading a bible study. A bible study that, had I entered the church when I arrived, I would have been on time for. As it was, I had been expected and was late. Not, of course, that this caused any ill will, just embarrassment on my part. I was still greeted warmly and asked to join the class. It was conducted entirely in Japanese so I had no clue what was going on until they pulled out the hymns at the end of class. We sang "Abide with Me" in English. So I sang "Abide with Me" in English with three men who didn't speak English. It was beautiful.

After bible study I was led into the sanctuary and left there. I was unclear if I was supposed to just leave my things and return to greet people as they came in (as others obviously had judging by the coats), or stay put. My courage failed me and I stayed. The service began and I was, once again, at a loss. It was too much. I couldn't understand anything, could barely pick up the basic order of a service that I have attended since I was a child, and was expected to stay for lunch and talk to people (a very daunting thought; as of then, I had only met one person who spoke English well). I was near tears until the seminary student started his sermon. It became readily apparent that some things transcend language barriers. I might not have a clue what he said, but I felt his words deep in my gut. My tears retreated and I managed to rally for my introduction.

After service Tokuno-sensei booked it to the back of the church. No one else moved. Suddenly, he booking it back up front, sans pastor's robe. It was time for the church council meeting. At least I think that was what was happening, but again there was that whole pesky language thing so I can't be sure. On the way to church I had been repeating my introduction over and over. You know when you are learning a new language and random things that you don't really use in everyday conversation, or you know, ever, stick, but the stuff you really need, like how to introduce yourself, just won't stay in your brain? That was me. "Hajimemashite. Caroline Keenan desu. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu." "How do you do? I am Caroline Keenan. Nice to meet you." The other riders in the subway probably thought I was crazy. Anyway, the only way I knew it was my turn was because I heard my name. One of the ladies in the congregation was suddenly behind me asking, in English, if I knew how to introduce myself in Japanese. I nodded and stood up. I bowed and got out "Hajime...." before the congregation started clapping. I finished hurriedly and sat down, but one of the ladies at the front was motioning for me to stand back up and repeat myself. They hadn't heard me over the clapping. I was probably redder than I have been in recent history, but I stood back up, bowed again, and repeated myself. The clapping continued. I could feel my ears burning.

As it turns out, Koishikawa Lutheran's congregation has a large deaf and hearing impaired population. There are two interpreters for the service. When I sat down for lunch, I sat across from a man who was sitting alone. I greeted him with the most polite greeting I knew and bowed. There was absolutely no response. I was worried and upset until the interpreter came up. He simply hadn't heard me and hadn't been looking at me to see my lips move. We nodded to each other and I was once more at a loss. And then the loss gave way to more angst when I was told, by a very pleased matron, the menu was curry udon. I hate spicy food with a passion. But what could I do? Nothing. It was time to "cowgirl up" as Claire would say.

As luck would have it, a very nice young man about my age sat down across from me. He spoke English fairly well and we were able to keep a conversation going all through lunch. How was the curry udon you ask? I had been entertaining visions of Indian curry and was terrified at the prospect of forcing it down, but that turned out to not be the case. It was absolutely delicious. No forcing needed. It was like stew with big delicious noodles added. Lunch went far more smoothly than I had anticipated. I had someone to talk to, and someone to interpret for me and for others. In a fairly entertaining moment, the lady next to me pointed to the young man and said something in Japanese. I asked if that was his name and she nodded with a big smile. I turned to him and repeated it, adding on a "san" to the end to try and be polite and he about fell out of his chair laughing. He informed me it was a nickname she had for him, not his name, but he didn't know what it was in English so he couldn't tell me what I had said! He then introduced himself and, while I tried desperately to remember, I promptly forgot and was too embarrassed to ask for it a second time.

During lunch one of the deaf members came up and was clearly trying to ask me something. I, of course, had no clue what she was saying and neither did my friendly translator. The woman was getting frustrated, and I was feeling guilty, when one of the translators came over to interpret. She watched the woman sign, then turned to me and spoke in Japanese. I just looked at her blankly. She repeated herself, and my new friend came over to help. So it went. The interpreter (whose name I don't think I ever got) translated the sign from the woman in front of me into Japanese, which the young man translated into English for me, I responded in English and it went back down the line. By this time we had the attention of most of the congregation. So it turned into a question answer session with two interpreters. Soon we had a "map" of the US on the board (my interpreter had tried to draw it nicely, had given up and drawn a circle; I would have too) with dots for Omaha, Chicago, and Minneapolis for reference.  

After lunch it was time to learn some Japanese sign language with the rest of the congregation. I am pleased to inform you that I can now sign "Christmas", "Jesus", "Christmas tree", "presents", and "Santa Claus" in Japanese sign language. Following that it was time for the deaf bible study. I joined the group and they seemed happy to have me which was nice. Again, absolutely no clue what was going on. Except I was invited to a Christmas party with their group at Denny's (I think it was Denny's, it was written on the board on a map but I don't think anyone ever actually said Denny's) which apparently in Japan serves pizza (maybe), and I am to bring 3,000 yen (this last bit seemed excessive, but they had put it on the board while, possibly, talking about the party so I plan to have it on me just in case). Mostly I had no idea what I was supposed to do, so I just stuck around. And then stuck around some more. When they started to turn the lights off I knew I was free to go.

I boarded the subway to return, got home, collapsed on my bed and didn't move for about an hour. The whole experience was mentally and emotionally exhausting. I despaired of ever learning Japanese well enough to be able to understand what is happening in church, names eluded me (after that first day I only knew one out of all the names given to me and that was Tokuno-sensei, whose name I had repeated in mantra with my introduction the whole way there), and mostly I really wanted to go to a church service that I could understand. I missed service at Luther; there is comfort there. It is home. And it's in English.

Since that first service I have been to a second and it was infinitely easier. I knew my way, arrived on time for bible study, and now know a grand total of five names. Its progress anyway. There was communion which I managed without incident. Tokuno-sensei kindly gave me the English blessing with the bread and then Nagayoshi-sensei, the seminarian, gave me the Japanese blessing for the wine. I chatted more with those that spoke English and, through them, to others of the congregation. After lunch (more delicious udon) we had a meeting about the plans to make the church safer in case of an earthquake. Always a good idea. Nakano-san, my English translator from last time, whose name I had to ask for again since I didn't get it the first time, began trying to tell me exactly what was being said, then shook his head and said "Defense for shaking." I understood.

After the meeting I summoned my courage and marched into the kitchen to offer my services. I was welcomed with smiles and finally I felt at home. It was just like at Luther after a big meal, with a bunch of people pitching in to wash the enormous amount of dishes. Only there were chopsticks instead of silverware, udon bowls, and tiny Japanese tea cups. I was at the drying station and Nakano-san asked if I did this at my church. I announced that of course I did and it even looked the same! It did too, with the big sinks and table in the middle, only it was a great deal smaller than the kitchen at Luther. I told him that my aunt and a good family friend were in charge of the kitchen at home and so I was in it a lot. The ladies smiled when he translated that and brought me a bigger stack of dishes to dry. I learned how to say "Let's begin!" and "Finished!" in Japanese and Japanese sign. After we were finished I managed to say "See you next week" in Japanese (I was so excited to remember that one!) and they taught me how to say it in Japanese sign. I was beaming the whole way home. God never gives you anything you can't handle. Mom told me once it was sort of a backwards compliment when you encounter hard times. I consider myself complimented.

Living here, this new job that is more than a job, it is an incredibly difficult thing, there's no denying it. The language barrier is the most difficult part of the whole experience. When you cannot fully speak to someone, when they cannot truly express their thoughts to you, when there is a lack of understanding on both sides, the temptation is to become depressed and commence with a great deal of head-desking (you know, the feeling where you just want to bang your head on your desk repeatedly). There has been a lot of head-desking. But that's the funny thing. God has dealt with this kind of thing more times throughout history than anyone could possibly know. I am certainly not the first to send up pleas for understanding and I will not be the last. I'm sure that there will be rough times ahead and I fully anticipate many tears over the struggle to learn Japanese, but these first two services have told me something important. Just as with the elderly lady whose walker I fetched down the stairs, it is not necessary to speak the same language to connect with people. As I said before, just open your heart, God will take care of the rest. It is going to be an incredible two and a half years.