Clarence W. Hall was a war correspondent in Japan
during the II world war. He wrote:
It was early in 1945 when, as a war correspondent on
Okinawa, I first came upon Shimabuku, the strangest and most inspiring
community I ever saw. Huddled beneath its groves of banyan and twisted pine trees,
this remote village of some 1000 souls was in the path of the 'American'
advance and so received a severe shelling. But when an advance patrol swept up
to the village compound, the soldiers stopped dead in their tracks.
Barring
their way were two little old men; they bowed low and began to speak.
The battle-hardened
sergeant, wary of tricks, held up his hand, summoned an interpreter. The
interpreter shook his head and said, "I don't get it. Seems we're being welcomed
as 'fellow Christians.' One says he's the mayor of the village, the other's the
schoolmaster. That's a Bible the older one has in his hand..."
Guided by the two old
men - Mojun Nakamura, the mayor and Shosei Kina, the schoolmaster - we
cautiously toured the compound. We'd seen other Okinawan villages, uniformly
down-at-the-heels and despairing; by contrast, this one shone like a diamond in
a dung heap. Everywhere we were greeted by smiles and dignified bows. Proudly
the two old men showed us their spotless homes, their terraced fields, fertile
and neat, their storehouses and granaries, their prized sugar mill.
Gravely
the old men talked on, and the interpreter said, "They've met only one
American before, long ago. Because he was a Christian they assume we are, too
-- though they can't quite understand why we came in
shooting."
Piecemeal, the incredible story came out. Thirty years
before, an American missionary on his way to Japan had paused at Shimabuku.
He'd stayed only long enough to make a pair of converts (these same two men),
teach them a couple of hymns, leave them a Japanese translation of the Bible
and exhort them to live by it. They'd had no contact with any Christian since.
Yet during those 30 years; guided by the Bible, they had built a Christian
community that truly honored God. How had it happened?
Picking their way
through the Bible, the two converts had found not only an inspiring Person
[Jesus Christ] on whom to pattern a life, but sound precepts on which to base
their society. They'd adopted the Ten Commandments as Shimabuku's legal code;
the Sermon on the Mount as their guide to social conduct. In Kina's school the
Bible was the chief literature; it was read daily by all students, and major
passages were memorized.
In Nakamura's village
government the precepts of the Bible were law. Nurtured on this Book, a whole
generation of Shimabukans had drawn from it their ideas of human dignity and of
the rights and responsibilities of citizenship. The result was plain to see.
Shimabuku for years had had no jail,
no brothel, no drunkenness, no divorce; there was a high level of health and
happiness.
Next day, the tide of battle swept us on. But a few days
later, during a lull, I requisitioned a jeep and a Japanese speaking driver and
went back to Shimabuku. Over the winding roads outside the village, huge truck
convoys and endless lines of American troops moved dustily; behind them
lumbered armoured tanks, heavy artillery. But inside, Shimabuku was an oasis of
serenity.
Once again I strolled through the quiet village streets, soaking up
Shimabuku's calm. There was a sound of singing. We followed it and came to
Nakamura's house, where a curious religious service was under way. Having no
knowledge of churchly forms or ritual, the Shimabukans had developed their own.
There was much Bible reading by Kina, repeated in singsong fashion by the
worshipers. Then came hymn singing. The tunes of the two hymns the missionary
had taught --"Fairest Lord Jesus" and "All Hail the Power of Jesus'
Name" -- had naturally suffered some changes, but they were
recognizable.
Swept up in the spirit of "All Hail the Power," we
joined in. After many prayers, voiced spontaneously by people in the crowd, there was a discussion of community
problems. With each question, Kina turned quickly to some Bible passage to find
the answer. The book's imitation-leather cover was cracked and worn,
its pages stained and dog-eared from 30 years' constant use. Kina held it with
the reverent care one would use in handling the original Magna Carta.
The
service over, we waited as the crowd moved out, and my driver whispered
hoarsely, "So this is what comes out of ONLY a Bible and a couple
of old guys who wanted to live like Jesus!"
Then, with a glance
at a shell-hole, my driver murmured, "Maybe we're using the wrong
kind of weapons."
Time
had dimmed the Shimabukans' memory of the missionary; neither Kina nor Nakamura
could recall his name. They did remember his parting statement. As expressed by
Nakamura, it was: "Study this Book well. It will give you strong faith in
the creator God. And when your faith in God is strong , everything is
strong."
Merciful
God, I come to Your presence confessing that I am not how You want me to be.
Help me unshackle my past, so I may always look up to You, living a life of
faith that loves You and my neighbor. In Jesus’ name I ask. Amen.
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