3
Election
During the offertory, ushers in black suits with white carnations pinned to their lapels passed brass collection plates.
Backs straight and alert like soldiers, in lockstep, they waited at the end of each pew before moving on to the next row.
Parishioners gave them their envelopes and nodded respectfully in the direction of the ushers.
The Cho sisters were sitting in the balcony. To Helen’s left, John was listening to the magnificent baritone solo. Bo and Mido sat in the pew behind them.
Helen felt a nudge from her right and turned to see her sister’s dark eyes widening with anger.
“Look.” Sonya pointed to the last page of the church bulletin, whispering: “Isn’t Shin Taehun your husband’s friend? I mean, the man who—” Like a pretty meerkat, she swiveled her slender neck to check if anyone was listening.
“Also, Jung Danbi? She’s also nominated? Is he divorced now?”
“Later.” Helen mouthed the two syllables in Korean, her chin firm and resolute.
Helen never read the back of the church bulletin, so if her sister hadn’t pointed out that Shin and Danbi had been nominated as church deacons, she wouldn’t have noticed it.
John had been nominated as an elder, and Elder Fred Byun, another SNU alum and a venerated member of the church, had assured John that he had everyone’s support.
Gospel Presbyterian had no lack of men who wanted to lead; however, what they didn’t have enough of, Elder Byun said, was those who wished to serve the Lord humbly.
Elder Fred Byun, the bright middle son of a soybean farmer, came to America in 1966 as a young engineer.
Bored of his job at a pharmaceutical company, he founded Taegeuk Bank with his friends and became a fabled first-generation immigrant success.
The bank set in the middle of Garden Grove mall was central to the lives of many Koreans in Orange County.
Every Friday, Elder Byun treated himself to the number two fish sandwich special at Shrimp Castle, which came with a side of fries and a can of 7UP.
In no time, the chatty bank president had walked up to the kitchen and introduced himself to the new fry cook, John Koh, whose quiet manner and good work reminded him of his father.
Last Christmas, Elder Byun had invited John to the church men’s group when they cooked meals for the homeless.
John came, worked the food line, then washed the heavy pots without having to be asked.
Not long after, Elder Byun brought Elder George Hong, the real estate developer who was married to his niece, to Shrimp Castle for a late lunch.
The two powerful elders who controlled the wealthy church’s Finance Committee and the multimillion-dollar building fund pulled John out of the kitchen to sit with them to discuss church business.
Both Fred and George were impressed by John’s background, his humble acceptance of his downward career trajectory, and his plainspoken honesty.
John’s competence was self-evident, and having been a very wealthy man for most of his adult life, Fred Byun could spot a man who knew how to serve without being servile.
Fred and George decided to make John a member of the Finance Committee.
Every year, there were far more nominations than seats for deacons and elders; however, John was already in.
When Fred Byun told John this, John didn’t understand how it worked.
He told Fred Byun, “I’m honored to have been considered.
If I cannot become an elder, I’m fine. Please give the seat to someone else.
I trust the Lord will choose wisely,” and, of course, Fred and George had laughed at how correct they had been to tap a fair man without political ambition.
In America, John had retreated, hoping no one would notice him.
John wanted to be left alone. Each day he went to work with Nari, and on Sunday morning, he put on his coat and tie to attend morning services.
When he had any time to himself, he read history books in English, and now and then he watched musical variety shows on Korean television. He liked trot music.
At church, the Koh family kept to themselves. They learned of any important church updates during announcements or later from Lion and Yun. Mrs. Chung, Helen’s employer, also an elder, would often share gossip or news at the Emporium.
After services ended, Sonya linked arms with her sister and insisted on having lunch at church.
“I want you to tell me everything. I need to know who is in charge here. How in the world could those terrible people become deacons? It must be prevented,” Sonya said quietly, all the while smiling at every parishioner who greeted the exquisite newcomer with the South Sea pearl necklace and enormous diamond solitaire.
She wore an ivory summer tweed skirt suit with tan sandals and carried a French leather handbag in a similar color.
“You really want to eat here?” Helen asked. “I mean, the food is fine, but—”
“It’s your birthday dinner tonight, so we’ll eat light. I just want to understand how you live. Big sister needs to know. I need to see everything.”
Helen gathered her family to explain that they’d stay for lunch, for the first time in months.
Ever since they had run into Shin and Danbi, Helen and John had done whatever they could to avoid them, even if it meant bolting out of the sanctuary.
Bo and Mido followed their parents and aunt toward the Patio.
Their church in Seoul had one large main building and an annex, but Gospel Presbyterian was more like a school campus, with standalone buildings for classrooms, gymnasiums, a theater, and a dining hall.
It was expanding still and had raised over $6 million for a state-of-the-art worship and education center.
Beneath a wooden portico covered in vines, a large window on the first floor of the old church building opened out to connect the church kitchen with the outdoor cafeteria, which was called the Patio.
Any parishioner could buy a meal for a nominal fee, and children ate for free.
A rotation of volunteers signed up to cook and serve meals.
Dozens of picnic tables were set up in neat rows, half of them shaded from the bright midday sunlight.
The second morning service had just ended, and many parishioners had already eaten, while others were just starting to line up.
At the Patio, Mrs. Chung spotted Helen and waved her over. She was sitting with her friend Mrs. Kwon, also an elder, and her son Marcus.
Helen introduced her sister.
“You also went to Ewha,” Mrs. Chung said. “Mrs. Kwon went to Ewha as well.”
The four alumnae smiled and bowed to each other. They were connected, having shared three different eras at a school—six thousand miles away—founded by a White American Methodist woman. Mrs. Chung was the eldest, but Mrs. Kwon was not far behind.
“We have room here,” Mrs. Chung said kindly. “Please sit down.”
John pushed two picnic tables together and then joined Mido and Bo in the line for food, while Helen and Sonya remained at the table.
Gospel Presbyterian Church was immense. There were over eleven thousand registered members and three services held each Sunday, not including the English service.
Mrs. Chung introduced Elder Kwon’s son Marcus Yim as a world-famous doctor who lived in Newport Beach in a mansion by the bay.
Marcus was a pleasant-looking man in his late thirties with short, cropped hair and round eyeglasses.
Sonya was accustomed to people trying to impress her, and she knew how to react appropriately without being rude or false.
“How wonderful that your busy son attends church with you,” Sonya said.
“He wants me to retire,” Mrs. Kwon said, looking annoyed and proud at the same time. “My Marcus and his wife attend another church in Newport Beach, but he comes by once a month to nag me.”
“Umma,” Marcus said gently, and she smiled at him as she led him in the social dance of a mother’s pride.
John, Mido, and Bo returned with five metal cafeteria trays of food and sat alongside Sonya and Helen. Rice, soup, bulgogi, spinach, and radish kimchi.
“Why do you want to retire?” Mrs. Chung asked. “I’ll never retire. My grandchildren are all grown up now, and I never see them anyway.”
Mrs. Kwon replied, “I don’t want to retire. Maybe I should just cut down my hours.” She glanced at her son, who looked reprovingly at her.
“Your business is going so well anyway. You have twenty girls now, or thirty?” Mrs. Chung added.
“What kind of business do you have?” Sonya asked.
“A nail salon. It’s in Buena Park, near Zion Market. I have twenty-two employees.”
“I’d love to stop by during my visit,” Sonya said, and all the women turned to admire her pale-pink-manicured hands. “We should go. Hejin, I’ll treat you. It’s your birthday. Is it open now?” Sonya asked.
Mrs. Kwon looked a bit embarrassed. “Well, I should really close, but some customers prefer to go on Sundays, so yes, it is open, but only until eight p.m.”
“Will you be there later?” Sonya asked.
Mrs. Kwon shook her head no. “Tomorrow. I work six days a week. Please come on Monday: It’s the Rose Salon. If you can only come today, then I will call the store. You will be my guests, and happy birthday,” she said to Helen.
Marcus smiled and patted his petite mother’s rounded shoulders.
“My mother must like you, and you must be nice people,” he said to Sonya and Helen.
“I’ve seen many patients, but my mother is far better at diagnosing people than I am.
I’ve never known anyone like her. My brothers and I joke that she is a personality radiologist,” Marcus said, beaming.
“We think that’s why she’s been so good at business and was able to send all of us to medical school. ”
John followed Marcus’s sudden upturned gaze. A person shaded their view.
Shin appeared before them, his arms hanging by his side, palms open.