Pacific Side

Several weeks ago in my reading, I came to the passage in John 10 where Jesus is in Jerusalem for Chanukah. "At that time the Feast of Dedication took place at Jerusalem. It was winter, and Jesus was walking in the temple, in the colonnade of Solomon." (John 10:22-23) Those two sentences alone are intriguing to me. The Bible tells us a lot about what Jesus said and did but not much about his unvoiced thoughts. As he walked the halls of the Temple that holiday season, was he remembering the statue of Zeus that had been raised there in the winter almost two centuries before? The pig slaughtered upon the altar of burnt offering? Antiochus Epiphanes' callous disregard for all that was sacred to the faith when he marched with force into the Holy of Holies?

As a boy, I first learned the story of the Maccabees, Antiochus Epiphanes, and the desolation and rededication of the Temple from my dad while studying the prophecy of Daniel. The clash of the classical world of the Greek empire, its rich mythology, and plethora of deities with the ancient Jewish monotheism and Hebraic values that I'd been raised to reverence made for a colorful period of history that piqued my interest from the start. My dad literally has bookshelves stacked on bookshelves in his study. When I was young, I would sometimes take down books at random and flip through them. One of those books was the Antiquities of the Jews by Josephus. There was one image in that particular book that fascinated me, a neoclassical depiction of Eleazar Maccabee toppling the elephants of the Seleucids. It was just a simple black and white illustration, but the dynamic quality of the scene was thrilling. I can't help but wonder if as a boy, Jesus found a sense of excitement in the Chanukah story as well. Chronologically, he would have been about as far from the events of the first Chanukah as we in the U.S. today are from the events of the Civil War. It's clear from scripture that he shared the Maccabees' intense passion for the sanctity of the Temple Mount. All four of the gospels record how he cleansed the Temple grounds by driving out all who were buying and selling goods and exchanging money, even aggressively crafting a weapon, a whip of cords, for the purpose. And with his actions came his words:

"Take these things away; do not make my Father's house a house of trade." (John 2:16)

"Is it not written, 'My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations'? But you have made it a den of robbers." (Matthew 21:13, Mark 11:17, Luke 19:46)

"Zeal for your house will consume me." (John 2:17, Psalm 69:9)

As heir to a fraction of the territory conquered by Alexander, Antiochus IV became the first ruler in the history of the Greek empire to explicitly claim divine titles for himself. "Theos Epiphanes", "God Manifest," was attached to his name wherever it occurred. He was Zeus incarnate, and every coin and scrap of paper issued in the Seleucid realm proclaimed it. It's clear from any study of the history of the wider world that this was nothing new. Men have consistently laid claim to godhood as far back as the records go. The Egyptian pharaohs claimed to be various incarnations of Horus, Osiris, and Ra. The sovereigns of the Xia (夏) and Shang (商) dynasties in China were called sons of Heaven (天子) and in the Qin (秦) assumed the additional title of divine emperor (皇帝), intended to hearken back to the god-kings of prehistoric legend. The rulers of Mesopotamia had often declared themselves deities; Nebuchadnezzar II is known for raising a massive statue of his own image for worship. In every case, the pointed words of the Shema echoed through history in stark contrast, "Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one." (Deuteronomy 6:4) Not two. Not three. Not fifty. Not millions. When Antiochus Epiphanes profaned the Temple with idolatrous monuments to his own divinity, it was blasphemy against the unity of the LORD, and for three years the sons and daughters of Israel fought to regain Jerusalem with the same zealous conviction that led Jesus, when asked which of the commandments is most important, to begin his answer with the Shema. "Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one." (Mark 12:29)

With those thoughts, I can move on from those first two sentences in John 10. Jesus had already claimed to be the Messiah (John 4:26). Apparently the word about him had spread and there was public debate about the matter (John 7:25-44), so people at the Temple in Jerusalem for Chanukah ask him, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” (John 10:24) Traditionally, the Messiah was expected to be a great man of royal descent but not God. For Jesus, his identity as Messiah and as the Son of God always went hand in hand:

But he said to them, "How can they say that the Messiah is David's son? For David himself says in the Book of Psalms, 'The Lord said to my Lord, Sit at my right hand, until I make your enemies your footstool.' David thus calls him Lord, so how is he his son?" (Luke 20:41-44)

"If you are the Messiah," they said, "tell us." Jesus answered, "If I tell you, you will not believe me, and if I asked you, you would not answer. But from now on, the Son of Man will be seated at the right hand of the mighty God." They all asked, "Are you then the Son of God?" He replied, "You are right in saying I am." (Luke 22:67-70)

In John 10, it’s the same; when they ask if he is the Messiah, he responds by explaining his relationship to the Father, which implies he is the Son of God. The people prepare to stone him “for blasphemy, because you, a mere man, claim to be God.” (John 10:33) The charge given against Jesus before he was killed was exactly the same, "We have a law, and according to that law he must die, because he claimed to be the Son of God.” (John 19:7)

Given that they were gathered in Jerusalem to remember Chanukah, their incredulity is somewhat understandable. Not only does this man make himself God like Antiochus Epiphanes, but this time around the one making the claim is a son of Israel. It raises questions. Why would one with clear reverence for the holiness of God, his Temple, and the values of Chanukah make such a claim? What difference if any is there between the claims of Antiochus Epiphanes and Jesus?

The simple answer and the one Jesus gave them is that his claim is justified because he is who he says he is. It’s late here (I’ll have to edit later) and I’m not about to tack on an apology for the deity of Christ. ”Why then do you accuse me of blasphemy because I said, 'I am God's Son'? Do not believe me unless I do what my Father does. But if I do it, even though you do not believe me, believe the miracles, that you may know and understand that the Father is in me, and I in the Father.” (John 10:36-38) Antiochus Epiphanes came in his own name. Jesus came in the name of the Father. Antiochus Epiphanes exalted himself in the pursuit of his own glory. Jesus’ claims to divinity always made mention of his relation to the Father. One came in defiance against the God of Israel. One came according to the order woven into the very fabric of the universe by its Creator.

Three of the gospels record that the curtain of the Temple was torn in two when Jesus died (Matthew 27:51, Mark 15:38, Luke 23:45). By any other hand, it would have been an act of desolation, but he alone who was completely holy was capable of fulfilling the law for all eternity. Through his sacrifice, the Holy of Holies was opened for us to enter, not on terms of our own choosing but only by the righteousness we have through Messiah. (Hebrews 6:19, Hebrews 10:20) He is our great high priest who intercedes for us in the very presence of the LORD. God with us. Rejoice, rejoice, Immanuel has come to thee, O Israel.

Since my first college trip to the National Archives in Chicago, I've dabbled in family history research from time to time. Most of my focus has been on reconstructing the paternal lines of my four grandparents. My maternal grandmother's genealogy is particularly fascinating because the way the family adapted to the U.S. after immigrating makes the line hard to trace. My great-great-great grandparents were both born about 1841. The Demske family of my great-great-great grandfather came from the German state of Prussia, and his wife's family immigrated from Saxony in 1866. They both entered the U.S. through New York, resided in Brooklyn, and were married in 1868. At the time of the 1870 census, they were living in Paterson, New Jersey, with one son, and the surname was spelled "Dempskey". By 1880, the family had moved to Philadelphia, and the surname was spelled "Demske". Jump forward to 1900, and they are still living in Philadelphia, but the surname has been changed to "Dempsey". By 1910, my great-great-great grandfather had passed away, and his wife is listed in both the 1910 and 1920 censuses as living in Chester County, Pennsylvania, with the surname "Demske". From 1900 forward, their sons continued to use the name "Dempsey" though, and that is what is used by members of our family today. I would love to know the particular reasons for the altering of the family name. But while my great-great grandfather may have picked up an Irish surname, he still married a Jewish girl.

I am reminded of Matisyahu's lyrics in his song "Jerusalem":

Them come overseas, yeah they're trying to be free.
Erase the demons out of your memory,
Change your name and your identity.
Afraid of the past and our dark history.
Why is everybody always chasing we?
Cut off the roots from your family tree.
Don't you see that's not the way to be?

"How shall we sing the LORD’s song in a foreign land? If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget its skill! Let my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth, if I do not remember you, if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy!" – Psalm 137:4-6

Tomorrow is Memorial Day, when we honor all who have pledged their lives in the service of their country. World War II was one of those tumultuous periods of history where most of the globe was rocked by events and changes that continue to determine major aspects of the lives of people today. Had it not been for World War II, I probably would not have grown up in Taiwan. That alone would have made for a vastly different life experience on my part. Right now my housemate Utsunomiya Tomohiro is writing a history paper on the assigned topic of whether or not the United States should have dropped the atomic bomb on Japan. Tomo is from Hiroshima. Needless to say, the course of his life was also affected by the War, even though he had not been born either. Both our fathers' fathers played relatively minor roles in the events of their times, but today the impact of those years of their lives is still felt in the experience of their children and grandchildren. Consider this an attempt at documenting not the broad, impersonal dynamics of political history but the life stories of two men whose worlds collided and have now come to coexist within our small apartment.

Utsunomiya Shigeharu (宇都宮茂春) was born around 1916 in Kure, Hiroshima, Japan. His father was Japanese and his mother was German. In the Meiji (明治) and Taishō (大正) periods, national modernization efforts brought a massive influx of European experts in various fields, predominantly from the German Empire, and she may have been the daughter of a foreign advisor. Shigeharu's parents eloped, and soon after birth he was left to the care of relatives in Hiroshima. His parents moved to Tokyo and were never heard from again. They were presumed to have been killed in the magnitude 8.3 earthquake that ravaged Kantō in 1923. Shigeharu was raised by family in Hiroshima and then conscripted into the army at age 19 and sent to Manchuria. The Japanese military had entered Manchuria in 1931 and established the state of Manchukuo (満州国) under the puppet leadership of Puyi (溥儀), the last emperor of the Qing (清) dynasty of China who had been deposed when the Republic of China was established in 1911. The pacification of the region required continued military action through the following decade. The colonial setting of Manchukuo produced some fascinating cultural hybrids, such as Li Xianglan (李香蘭), a Japanese singer born and raised in Manchuria who everyone believed to be Chinese until the end of the War. Her songs mixed Chinese and Japanese language to promote the peaceful coexistence of colonizer and colonized. To this day, her music is iconic of that era. After returning to Japan, Shigeharu married. He liked the wide open spaces of Manchuria though and the priorities of the Empire played a role, so he moved back there with his wife soon after. Their first son was born there and they continued to reside in Manchuria through the end of the War. When Hiroshima was destroyed by the nuclear bombing of 6 August 1945, many of their relatives were affected by the blast. Shigeharu, his wife, and son survived the explosion by the simple chance they lived overseas at the time. On 9 August 1945, the Russian Soviets began their invasion of Manchuria from the north, and his family was forced to flee back to Japan. After the War ended, he taught kendo in the mountains outside of Hiroshima.

Carl Boyd Powell was born on 25 November 1921 in West Decatur, Pennsylvania, the second boy in a family of six sons and two daughters. Raised on a farm, he also worked out West as a teenager with the Civilian Conservation Corp during the Great Depression. His older brother Eldon joined the U.S. Army Air Corps (predecessor of the U.S. Air Force) as a pilot before World War II. Eldon was based in Panama for a time and would write home about his experiences. When the U.S. entered the War, Eldon was a second lieutenant (ASN: O-428763), but on 4 April 1942, he was killed when his plane malfunctioned on a flight out of Romulus Army Airfield (Wayne County Airport) near Detroit, Michigan. Eldon's death was hard on the family, but on 3 September 1942, Carl enlisted in the Army (ASN: 13084174). He was sent first to England and then served as an anti-aircraft searchlight operator with the 505th Coast Artillery on the campaigns through North Africa, Sicily, and Italy. The unit provided artillery cover for the landings at Salerno in September 1943 and at Anzio in January 1944. The journals from his tour of duty record a lot of volleyball games, ice cream, movies, letters, lectures he gave on job-related topics, and church services as well. After returning to the U.S. briefly in 1944, he was shipped out again to the Philippines with the 429th Field Artillery and continued to serve in Luzon through the surrender of Japan on 2 September 1945. He was discharged with the rank of sergeant on 10 January 1946 in Fort Knox, Kentucky. For his service, he received the exceptional honor of the Presidential Unit Citation as well as the European African Middle Eastern Campaign Medal, Asiatic Pacific Campaign Medal, Philippine Liberation Medal, World War II Victory Medal, and American Campaign Medal. After the War, he completed a degree at Columbia Bible School in Columbia, South Carolina. He married and had three kids. He worked as a teacher in schools, a leader at church, and on and off for the Bureau of Printing and Engraving in Washington, D.C. In the aftermath of the War, a group of men and women who had served in the military came together to form the Far Eastern Gospel Crusade (FEGC), a Christian mission organization focused on church development in Japan and the Philippines. In 1960, the vision expanded to include Taiwan and gradually other areas of the world as well. After his experience in the Philippines during the War, Carl wanted to return there in a reconstructive role, and he and my grandmother applied to work with FEGC. Their application did not work out due to health reasons, but their home was one that placed great importance on fulfilling the call of the Great Commission. As a result, my own father is one of very few people I have ever met who knew from the beginning what he wanted to do and followed through on it every step of the way in his education, his marriage, and his career. In 1981, FEGC changed the organization name to SEND International, and my parents began discussions with SEND about going to the Philippines. In the end, the decision was made that they would go to Taiwan.

I never met Carl Powell. Tomohiro never met Utsunomiya Shigeharu. Both men passed away before we were born, but were it not for the unique courses of events that both their lives followed during the War years, Tomo would not be around today and I never would have ever set a foot in Taiwan let alone spent most of my life there. This Memorial Day, I'm telling my story here. Tomo is telling his in his history paper, while defending the view that the atomic bomb was a necessary evil required to expedite the end of the War and spare Japan and the U.S. the further cost in human lives that a land invasion would have entailed. Together we honor the memory of our grandfathers we never met.