Risk Taking

One of the lessons I learn over and over again in life is the value of taking risk. Without question, the most deeply rewarding experiences of my life have been the fruit of stepping into an uncomfortable space. Sometimes this is as mundane as deciding to take the subway to explore a foreign city at the end of a long day. Sometimes it’s as momentous as deciding to move to new city. I’ve experienced both of these in recent months. Both have been deeply rewarding.

I’ve deeply appreciated my time with the faculty of the Torch Trinity Graduate School of Theology here in Seoul. They are, at heart, risk takers in the best sense of the term. It is deeply encouraging to see them now engaged in doctoral-level training that breaks a lot of the rules of theological doctorates. Their program is intentionally interdisciplinary in its nature, seeking to prepare Asians for leadership in seminaries or other educational institutions. Although most of the faculty hold more traditional, specialized doctorates (some from the world’s most prestigious universities), they realize that there is a critical niche to be filled in a more blended, integrated degree that doesn’t seek the same level of specialization. This is not to say that there is not deep value in such degrees. But they’ve decided to take the risk of doing something different, something that others are not doing. It seems to be working extraordinarily well. One of the most fulfilling parts of my job is encouraging people engaged in such ground-breaking work.

After a morning and afternoon of faculty meetings and discussions, a couple of my hosts took me into Seoul to see one of two palace complexes of the Chosun royal dynasty. Although I’ve explored Seoul a bit on my own during previous visits, this was my first opportunity to visit the palace complex. Strikingly similar in form and layout to Beijing’s Forbidden City, the older of the two palaces sits at the end of a broad boulevard lined by government buildings, the national theater, and the American embassy. The palace is entered through a grand gate that flows into a succession of courtyards filled with royal pavilions. The complex has clearly suffered from the effects of the Japanese occupation and especially the Korean War. Much of the facility is reconstructed. At the back of the palace complex, tucked up against a mountain, is the Korean “Blue House,” or the home of the Korean President. The whole thing follows the principles alignment that are so prevalent in Asian architecture, where flow of both space and power through architecture are critically important. 

The central pavilion of the Gyeonbokgyung Palace in Seoul

The evening ended with some additional risk taking. My hosts treated me to a deeply traditional but now quite rare Korean meal of fresh water squid. The squid were sautéed with scallions and some other vegetables and then simmered in (you guessed it) Korean red pepper sauce, and large quantities thereof.  The meal is accompanied by a simple clam broth soup, steamed rice, daikon pickles, and lightly pickled bean sprouts, fresh lettuce, and crumbled dried seaweed. It was a worthy risk and a tasty one, although I have to say that it took me to my personal limit of spiciness. The experience, however, was definitely worth the risk. 

Fiery squid for dinner