Saturday, 3/21/15
Pardon me, but the Gospel’s mention of Nicodemus has turned my
thoughts onto a man named Nicodemus whom long ago I hired to work for our parish in Korea.
We foreign priests were the only priests available in Korea, and that
had us trying to function where we knew little of their language.
That led each of us to hire a sidekick to do our paper work. In every one of
our parishes that job was filled by a man each of us called his poksa.
For my first poksa I
hired a man named Peter when I was given a parish in September of 1954. Pete
carried the Mass kit when we visited the villages. He rendered my catechism
instructions into language I could manage. He was good at starting fires,
and at sitting with me for a smoke.
But as a prisoner of the
Communists for three war years Pete had been roughed up badly, and that made his miserable health put an end
to our pleasant association.
Our bishop recommended I hire a young man named Nicodemus
who had attended the seminary in Seoul when it was in operation before the war.
So, “Nicko” came aboard, and he rented a house down in town.
I was soon left to carrying the Mass kit and to lighting my
own fires. What’s more, I learned that Ncko had turned his house into a
restaurant with hostesses.
He explained to me that traditionally Korea had two levels
of employment. Along with working men there were those with official positions
that put them in the gentleman class. Korea had a traditional class of men who
were free to smoke long pipes discussing philosophy. They were called the yangbahns, and Nicko’s role
as my poksa made him a yangbahn.
I told Nicko that my origins with a lowly working class family
led me to release him to find a position of dignity elsewhere.
St. Joseph, whom we honored two days ago, taught us that
nothing matches good hard work for rendering us dignity.
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