True families create true people
My Wife, Hak Ja Han Moon
The first time I saw my wife, she was a young girl of fourteen
and had just graduated from elementary school. She was
a quiet girl who never raised her voice and never sought
to bring attention to herself. She always took the same route to
and from the church. When she was first introduced to me, I was
told she was the daughter of one of our church members, Mrs.
Soon Ae Hong.
“What is your name?” I asked her.
“My name is Hak Ja Han,” she answered with a clear voice.
In that moment, before I knew what was happening, I said, “So Hak
Ja Han has been born in Korea!” I said this three times in repetition,
and then prayed, saying, “God! Thank you for sending to Korea such a
wonderful woman as Hak Ja Han.”
I then looked at her, and said: “Hak Ja Han, I’m afraid you are going
to have to do a lot of sacrificing.”
All of these words came out of my mouth spontaneously. Later, Mrs.
Hong told me that she thought it strange that I would say the same
thing three times after meeting her daughter for the first time. My wife
has told me that she also remembers that first, short meeting. She told
me she remembers everything that I said then as if I had delivered a
sermon just for her, and she kept it in her heart. She said she felt like
she had received an important revelation about her future that she
could not forget.
Her mother was from a faithful Presbyterian family, so she was raised
in a Christian home. Her hometown was Jungju, which is my hometown
as well, but she had lived in Anju until coming to South Korea during
the Korean War. When Mrs. Hong first began attending our church, she
lived a very faithful life in Chuncheon and raised her daughter strictly.
My wife attended a nursing school that was operated by the Catholic
Church. I am told that the rules of this school were so strict that it was
as if she were living in a convent. She had a gentle character, and during
the time she was raised by her mother, she never went anywhere except
to school and to our church.
I was forty at the time, and I sensed that the time had come for
me to marry. All I needed to do was wait for God to tell me, “The
time has come, so get married,” and I would do as I was told. Seung
Do Ji, an elderly woman in our church, began an effort in October
1959 to prepare for my engagement, even though there was still no
bride-to-be. Another church member who had been praying for
seven years about a wife for me told me one day that she had had a
dream in which she saw that Hak Ja Han was my wife.
Another church member, Mrs. Ji, told me about a strange dream she
had. “What kind of dream is this?” she exclaimed. “I saw hundreds of cranes
come flying. I tried to wave them away with my arms, but they kept coming
and they finally covered you with their white feathers. Is this some kind of
omen for the future?” The “Hak” in Hak Ja Han is the Chinese character
for crane.
Then, Hak Ja Han had a dream in which I appeared and told her,
“The day is near, so make preparations.” My wife later told me that in
her dream she said to me in a humble tone, “I have been living until
now in accordance with the will of God. In the future, as well, I will
follow God’s will as His servant, no matter what that will may be.”
A few days after my bride-to-be had this dream, I asked Mrs. Hong
to bring her daughter to me. This was our first meeting since I had
been introduced to her at age fourteen. That day, I asked this young
lady many questions. In every case, she responded with composure
and spoke clearly. In this meeting, I asked my wife to draw a picture.
Without hesitation, she picked up a pencil and started drawing on a
sheet of paper. When she had finished and placed her picture before
me, I was very impressed by what I saw. I then looked at her face, and
her shy expression was very beautiful. Her heart was as wonderful as
the picture she had drawn.
We were engaged on March 27, 1960, and had our marriage ceremony
barely two weeks later, on April 11. I did not set a date at the time but when
I called Miss Han several days later, I told her, “Tomorrow morning, we
will have a marriage ceremony.” She responded simply, “Is that so?” and did
not ask any questions or try to speak in opposition. She seemed incapable
of opposition. That was how pure and gentle she was. Then as now, when it
comes to the will of God, she has a strong determination.
I wore a samo-kwandae, the formal dress of court officials now
commonly used in traditional wedding ceremonies, and she wore
traditional Korean attire that included a jok-dori bridal tiara. My
bride, who was seventeen and more than twenty years younger than
I, looked confident and radiant with her tightly closed lips and
pretty face.
During the ceremony, I told my bride that she was about to embark
on a difficult course.
“I think you are already aware that marrying me will not be like any
other marriage. We are becoming husband and wife to complete the
mission given to us by God to become True Parents, and not to pursue
the happiness of two individuals, as is the case with other people in this
world. God wants to bring about the Kingdom of Heaven on the earth
through a true family. You and I will travel a difficult path to become
True Parents who will open the gates to the Kingdom of Heaven for
others. It is a path that no one else in history has traveled, so even I
don’t know all that it will involve. During the next seven years, you will
experience many things that will be difficult to endure. Don’t forget,
even for a moment, that the life we live is different from others. Don’t
do anything, no matter how trivial, without first discussing it with me,
and obey everything I tell you.”
She responded, “My heart is already set. Please do not worry.”
I could see in her expression that she had made a strong determination.
Her difficult challenges began the day after our marriage. The first
difficulty she faced was that she could not see her mother. My wife, her
mother, and her maternal grandmother were all only daughters. As a
result, the relationship between mother and daughter was particularly
strong. In order to take on her public mission and develop the proper
focus, I asked her to live what amounted to an ascetic life for three years.
That meant she could not see her mother or any of her relatives for three
years. She lived in a room rented from a church member. She came to
the church no more than once a day, usually in the evening. So as not to
create disruption, she left through the back door. I was often involved in
worship services or praying through the night and was rarely at home,
but the separation was not for practical reasons. The separation was to
establish a spiritual condition of unconditional devotion to her mission.
As the outrageous rumors about me continued to circulate, this
separation from her relatives and me made it even more difficult for my
young wife to endure.
At the time of our marriage, the Unification Church already had
been established in 120 communities around Korea. Even in our
church, however, there were those who were critical of our marriage.
Some envied her, some hated her, and many stories circulated.
As if that were not enough, she lived in someone else’s home. Older
women of our church followed me everywhere I went. Eventually, my
seemingly cold treatment of my wife brought an end to all the criticism
and envy against her. In fact, people began to sympathize with her. For
example, many members criticized me when I couldn’t go to see my
wife even though she was suffering postpartum illness and was shivering
in an unheated room after the birth of our first daughter. Some of
them said, “How can he even call himself her husband?”
“You’re going too far, sir,” I was told. “If you married her, you should
live with her. What are you doing, making it difficult for her even to see
your face?”
The people who had been criticizing my wife one by one began to
take her side instead.
In spite of her young age, it was necessary that my wife receive
harsh training. During the time we lived together, her environment
was relentless. She never had even a single free moment for herself.
She constantly was on edge, as if she were walking on a thin layer of
ice, wondering, “Will today be peaceful? Will tomorrow be peaceful?”
Because she had to attain God’s standard of motherly love, I corrected
her for even a single wrong word. Sometimes even her affection for
me had to be curtailed for the sake of her eternal mission. It was all
necessary for her to become True Mother, but I am sure it caused much
grief in her heart.
I might say a word in passing and not think much of it. She, however,
had to harmonize herself with my every word, so I am sure her suffering
was great. It took us seven years to conform ourselves to each
other. I relate these things because the most important thing in a marriage
relationship is trust. It is what makes it possible for two people to
become as one.
An Incomparable Inner Beauty
My wife and I made a promise to each other after we were
married. We agreed that no matter how upset or angry one
of us might become, we would not allow anyone to think,
“It looks like Reverend and Mrs. Moon had a fight.” We agreed that no
matter how many children we might have, we would not let them see
any sign that we might have had a fight. Children are God. Children are
God with very small hearts. So when a child says, “Mom!” and calls, you
must always answer, “What is it?” with a smile.
After going through such a harsh course for seven years, my wife
became a wonderful mother. All the gossip about her disappeared, and
a peaceful happiness came to our family. My wife gave birth to fourteen
children, and she has embraced each one with so much love. When she
is away from home on our speaking tours and mission life, she sends
letters and postcards to our children every day.
While it was difficult for her to raise fourteen children over the
course of over forty years, she never complained. Several times I had to
be overseas when my wife was about to give birth. She had to bear such
times alone. There were days when I could not do anything for her. Once
a member wrote me about her difficult financial situation. There was
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concern over whether she was getting sufficient nutrition. Even then,
my wife never complained about her difficulty. Because I sleep only two
or three hours a night, she has dutifully done the same throughout our
life together. These sorts of matters pain me to this day.
My wife has such a tremendous heart of love and care that she even
gave her wedding ring to someone in need. When she sees someone in
need of clothes, she buys that person clothes. When she comes across
someone hungry, she buys the person a meal. There have been many
times when we have received presents from others that she would give
away to someone else without even opening them. Once we were touring
the Netherlands and had a chance to visit a factory that processed
diamonds. Wanting to express my heart of regret toward my wife for all
her sacrifices, I bought her a diamond ring. I didn’t have much money,
so I couldn’t buy her a large one. I picked out one I liked and presented
it to her. Later, she even gave away that ring. When I saw the ring wasn’t
on her finger, I asked her, “Where did the ring go?”
She answered, “You know by now I can’t keep something like that
when someone has a greater need.”
Once I saw her pulling out a large wrapping cloth, and she was working
quietly to pack some clothes. “What are you going to do with those
clothes?” I asked her.
“I have a use for them,” she said.
She filled several wrapping cloths with clothes without telling me
what she planned to do with them. When she was finished, she told me
she was getting ready to send the clothes to our missionaries working
in foreign countries.
“This one’s for Mongolia, this one’s for Africa, and this one’s for
Paraguay,” she said.
She had a slightly self-conscious smile that made her look so sweet
when she told me. Still today, she takes it upon herself to look after our
overseas missionaries.
My wife established the International Relief and Friendship Foundation
in 1979. It has done service projects in numerous countries, such as
Zaire, Senegal, and Ivory Coast. The foundation gives food to impoverished
children, medicine to those who are sick, and clothing to those in
need. In Korea, she created the Aewon charity organization in 1994. Its
activities include managing a canteen serving free food to the poor and
supporting low-wage earners, the handicapped, children taking care of
families in place of parents, and others. It also provides aid to the North
Korean people. My wife has also been active in women’s organizations
for some time. The Women’s Federation for World Peace, which she
established in 1992, has branches in some eighty countries and is in
general consultative status with the Economic and Social Council of the
United Nations as a nongovernmental organization.
Throughout history, women have been persecuted, but I predict this
will change. The coming world will be one of reconciliation and peace
based on women’s maternal character, love, and sociability. The time is
coming when the power of women will save the world.
Unfortunately today, many women’s organizations apparently believe
that standing in opposition to men is the way to demonstrate the power
of women. The result is an environment of competition and conflict.
The women’s organizations my wife leads, on the other hand, seek to
bring about peace on the principle that women should work together,
take initiative, and empower one another across traditional lines of
race, culture, and religion to create healthy families as the cornerstone
of the culture of peace.
The organizations she works with do not call for a liberation of
women from men and families. Instead, they call for women to develop
and maintain families filled with love. My wife’s dream is to see all
women raised as true daughters with filial hearts who can create peace
at home, in our communities, in our nations, and in the world. The
women’s movement being carried out by my wife serves the goal of true
families, which are the root of peace in all areas of life.
During one of the most intense periods of my public work, our
children had to live close to half the year without their parents. In our
absence, they lived in our home, cared for by church members. Our
home was always filled with church members. Every meal in our home
had guests at the table, guests who always received priority over our
children. Because of this environment, our children grew up with a
sense of loneliness that is not experienced by children in other families.
Even worse was the suffering they had to endure because of their father.
Wherever they went, they were singled out as sons and daughters of
“the cult leader Sun Myung Moon.” This suffering sent them through
periods of wandering and rebellion, but they have always returned
home. We were not able to support them properly as parents, but five
have graduated from Harvard University. I could not be more grateful
for their courageous accomplishments. Now they are old enough to
help me in my work, but even to this day, I am the strict father. I still
teach them to become people who do more than I do to serve Heaven
and live for the sake of humanity.
My wife is a woman of incredible strength, but the death of our
second son, Heung Jin, was difficult for her. It happened in December
1983. She was with me in Kwangju, Korea, participating in a Victory
over Communism rally. We received an international phone call that
Heung Jin had been in a traffic accident and had been transported to
a hospital. We boarded a flight the next day and went directly to New
York, but Heung Jin was lying unconscious on the hospital bed.
A truck traveling over the speed limit as it came down a hill tried to
brake and swerved into the opposite lane, where Heung Jin was driving.
Two of his best friends were in the car with him at the time. Heung Jin
cut the wheel to the right so the driver’s side took most of the impact
from the truck. By doing so, he saved the lives of his two friends. I went
to the place near our home where the accident had occurred, and the
black tire marks veering off to the right were still visible.
Heung Jin finally went to the heavenly world in the early morning of
January 2. He had turned seventeen just a month before. Words cannot
describe my wife’s sorrow when she had to send a child she had raised
with love to the heavenly world before her. She could not cry, however.
In fact, it was important that she not shed any tears. We are people who
know the world of the eternal spirit. A person’s spirit does not disappear
like so much dust, just because the physical life is lost. The soul
ascends to the world of spirit. As parents, the pain of knowing that we
would never be able to see or touch our beloved child in this world was
almost unbearable. My wife could not cry; she could only lovingly put
her hands on the hearse that carried Heung Jin’s body.
Shortly before the accident, Heung Jin had been betrothed to Hoon
Sook Pak, who was studying ballet. I had to speak to Hoon Sook about
his departure from this world and what she wanted to do.
I told her I knew it wouldn’t be easy or fair to her parents if she chose to
live alone. I told her it was best to forget the betrothal had ever happened.
Hoon Sook was adamant, however. “I am aware of the existence of
the spirit world,” she said. “Please let me spend my life with Heung Jin.”
In the end, Hoon Sook became our daughter-in-law fifty days
after Heung Jin’s departure. My wife and I will never forget the way she
smiled brightly as she held a portrait photo of Heung Jin throughout
the spiritual marriage ceremony.
It would seem that my wife would be devastated each time she faced
such difficult situations, but she always remained unshaken. Even in
the most difficult and unbearable circumstances, my wife never lost her
serene smile. She always crossed over life’s most difficult peaks successfully.
When church members ask my wife’s advice on raising their own
children, she tells them: “Be patient and wait. The period when children
wander is only temporary. No matter what they do, embrace them, love
them, and wait for them. Children will always return to the love of their
parents.”
I have never raised my voice toward my wife. This is not because of
my character, but because my wife has never given me cause to do so.
Throughout our life together, she has labored to care for me with complete,
loving devotion. She is even the one to care for my hair. So this
great saint of world affairs is also the best barber in the world. Now that
I am old I make many new demands on her, and she always responds.
If I ask her to cut my toenails, she will do it cheerfully. My toenails
are mine, but I can’t see them very well. She sees them perfectly well,
though. It’s a strange thing. The older I become, the more precious my
wife is to me.
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