“Please Don’t Die”

I continued to devote myself to prayer, and I came to feel intuitively
that the time had come for me to marry. Because I had decided
to follow God’s path, everything about my life had to be done in
accordance with God’s will. Once I came to know something through
prayer, I had no choice but to follow. So I went to one of my aunts who
had much experience in arranging marriages and asked her to introduce
me to a suitable wife. This is how I met Seon Gil Choi, the daughter of a
prominent Christian family in Jung-ju.
She was a well-raised woman from an upright family. She had attended
only elementary school, but she had a character that disliked
having to cause even the slightest trouble to others. Her character was
so strong and her Christian faith so deep that she had been imprisoned
at age sixteen for refusing to comply with a Japanese colonial requirement
that all Koreans worship at Shinto shrines. I was told that I was the
twenty-fourth man to be considered as her groom, so it seems she was
very selective about whom she would marry. Once I returned to Seoul,
however, I completely forgot I had even met the woman.
My plan after completing my studies in Japan had been to travel to
Hailar, China, a city on the border between China, Russia, and Mongolia.
My school in Tokyo had arranged a job for me with the Manchuria
Electric Company, and my plan was to work in Hailar for about three
years while learning Russian, Chinese, and Mongolian. Just as I had
earlier sought out a school that would teach me Japanese so that I could
win over the Japanese, I wanted to go to this border city and learn a
number of foreign languages as a way of preparing myself for the future.
It was becoming increasingly clear, however, that Japan was heading for
defeat in the war. I decided that it would be better for me not to go to
Manchuria. So I stopped by a branch office of the Manchuria Electric
Company in Andung (present-day Dandong) and submitted paperwork
to cancel my job placement. I then headed for my hometown. When I
arrived, I found that the aunt whom I had asked to arrange my marriage
was in great distress. Apparently, the woman I had met was refusing to
consider anyone other than me as her partner and was causing great
trouble for her family. My aunt took me by the arm and led me to the
Choi family home.
I explained to Seon Gil Choi clearly about the kind of life I intended
to lead.
“Even if we marry now, you should be prepared to live without me
for at least seven years,” I told her.
“Why should I do that?” she responded.
I told her, “I have a task that is more important than family life. In
fact, my reason for getting married has to do with my ability to carry
out God’s providence. Our marriage needs to develop beyond the family
to the point where we can love the nation and all humanity. Now that
you know that this is my intention, do you truly want to marry me?”
She responded with a firm voice: “It doesn’t matter to me. After I met
you, I dreamed of a field of flowers in the moonlight. I am certain that
you are my spouse sent from Heaven. I can endure any difficulty.”
I was still concerned, and I pressed her several times. Each time she
sought to set my mind at ease, saying, “I am willing to do anything, as
long as I am able to marry you. Don’t worry about anything.”
My future father-in-law passed away a week before our scheduled
wedding date, so our wedding was delayed. We were finally able to hold
our ceremony on May 4, 1944. Normally May is a time for beautiful
spring days, but on our wedding day it rained heavily. Rev. Ho Bin Lee
of the Jesus Church officiated. Later, after Korea’s liberation from Japan,
Reverend Lee would go to South Korea and establish an ecumenical
seminary called the Jung-ang Seminary. My wife and I began our married
life in my boarding room in Heuksok Dong. I truly loved her and
took such good care of her that the mistress of the boarding house
would say, “Oh my, you must really love her, since you treat her as if you
were handling an egg.”
I got a job at the Kyongsong branch of the Kashima Gumi Construction
Company in Yongsan in order to support our family while I also
carried out church work. Then, one day in October, the Japanese police
suddenly stormed into our home.
“Do you know so-and-so of Waseda University?” they demanded.
Without even giving me a chance to reply, they pulled me out of the
house and took me to the Kyounggi Province Police Station. I was being
detained because one of my friends had been arrested for being a communist
and had mentioned my name to his interrogators.
Once inside the police station, I was immediately subjected to torture.
“You’re a member of the Communist Party, aren’t you? Weren’t you
working with that rascal while you were studying in Japan? Don’t even
bother trying to deny it. All we have to do is put in a call to Tokyo Police
Headquarters and they will tell us everything. You can give us the list of
party members or die like a dog.”
They beat me with a table and broke all four of its legs against my
body, but I refused to give them the names of the people who had
worked with me in Japan.
The Japanese police then went to where I was living with my wife,
turned it upside down, and discovered my diaries. They brought the
diaries to me and went through them page by page, demanding I tell
them about the names they found. I denied everything, even though
I knew they might kill me for my silence. The police stomped on me
mercilessly with their spiked military boots until my body was as limp
as if I were dead. Then they hung me from the ceiling and swung me
back and forth. Like a slab of meat hanging in a butcher shop, I swung
this way and that as they pushed me with a stick. Soon, blood filled my
mouth and began dripping onto the cement floor below me. Each time
I lost consciousness they would pour a bucket of water over me. When
I regained consciousness the torture would begin again. They held my
nose and stuck the spout of a teakettle into my mouth, forcing me to
swallow water. When my stomach became bloated with water they laid
me face up on the floor, looking like a frog, and began stomping on my
abdomen with their military boots. The water would be forced up my
esophagus and I would vomit until everything turned black. On the
days after I had been tortured this way my esophagus felt as though it
was on fire. The pain was so great I could not bear to swallow a single
mouthful of soup. I had no energy and would just lie face down on the
floor, completely unable to move.
The war was coming to an end, and the Japanese police were desperate.
They tortured me in ways words cannot describe. I endured,
though, and never gave them the names of any of my friends. Even as
I was going in and out of consciousness, I made sure not to give them
what they wanted. Finally tiring of torturing me, the Japanese police
sent for my mother. When she arrived my legs were so swollen that I
couldn’t stand on my own. Two policemen had to put my arms over
their shoulders and help me walk to the visiting room. My mother had
tears in her eyes even before she set eyes on me.
“Endure just a little longer,” she said. “Mother will somehow get you
a lawyer. Please endure, and don’t die before then.”
My mother saw how my face was covered with blood, and she
pleaded with me.
“It doesn’t matter how much good you are trying to do,” she said. “It’s
more important that you keep yourself alive. No matter what happens,
don’t die.”
I felt sorry for her. I would have liked to call out, “Mother,” embrace
her, and cry out loud with her. I couldn’t do that, though, because I
knew perfectly well why the Japanese police had brought her there. My
mother kept pleading with me not to die, but all I could do in return
was blink my badly swollen and bloodied eyes.
During the time I was held in the Kyounggi Province Police Station, it
was Mrs. Gi Bong Lee, the mistress of the boarding house, who kept me
supplied with food and clothing. She wept every time she visited me. I
would comfort her, saying, “Endure a little longer. This era is coming to
an end. Japan will be defeated soon. You don’t need to cry.” These were
not empty words. God had given me this belief. As soon as the police
released me in February of the following year, I took all my diaries that
had been stacked in the boarding house to the bank of the Han River.
There I burned them so they would not cause any further trouble to
my friends. If I had not done this, I knew the diaries could eventually
be used by the police to harm others. My body did not recover easily
from the torture. I had blood in my feces for quite a while. Mrs. Lee, the
boarding house mistress, and her sister helped me to nurse my body
back to health with great sincerity and dedication.
Finally, on August 15, 1945, Korea was liberated from Japan. This was
the day every Korean had been waiting for. It was a day of tremendous
emotion. Shouts of “Mansei!” and people waving the Taeguk flag covered
the entire peninsula. I could not join in the festivities, however. My
heart was deadly serious because I could foresee the terrible calamity
that was about to befall the Korean peninsula. I went alone into a small
anteroom and immersed myself in prayer. Soon after that, my fears
were realized. Although liberated from Japanese rule, our homeland
was cut in two at the 38th parallel. In the North, a communist regime
that denied the existence of God came to power.

The Calm Sea of the Heart

Japan’s situation in the war became increasingly desperate. In the
urgent need to replenish the shrinking ranks of its military, it
began giving early graduation to students and sending them to
the war front. For this reason, I, too, was graduated six months early.
Once my graduation date was set for September 30, 1943, I sent a telegram
to my family saying, “Will return on Konron Maru,” giving the
name of the ship I was scheduled to board in Shimonoseki for Busan.
However, on the day I was to leave Tokyo for the trip back to Korea, I
had a strange experience in which my feet stuck to the ground, preventing
me from moving. As hard as I tried, I could not pick my feet up off
the ground to go to the train at the Tokyo station.
I told myself, “It must be that Heaven doesn’t want me to board that
ship.” So I decided to stay in Japan a while longer and went with my friends
to climb Mount Fuji. When I returned to Tokyo a few days later, I found
the country in an uproar over news that the Konron Maru, the ship I was
supposed to be on, had been sunk on its way to Busan. I was told that more
than five hundred university students had been killed. Konron Maru was
a large ship in which Japan took great pride, but it had been sunk by an
American torpedo.
When my mother heard the news that the ship her son was scheduled
to board had been sunk, she immediately ran out of the house
without even thinking to put on her shoes. She ran barefoot five miles
to the train station and went directly to Busan. When she arrived at the
Maritime Police Station in Busan, she discovered my name was not on
the passenger manifest. The boarding house in Tokyo, however, told her
that I had packed my bags and left. This put her in total confusion and
agony. She just kept calling my name, not even realizing that she had
large splinters in her bare feet.
I can easily imagine how she must have been beside herself with
worry that something might have happened to her son. I can understand
my mother’s heart, but from the day I chose to follow God’s path I
became a terrible son to her. I couldn’t afford to let myself be tied down
by personal emotions. So I had not sent word that I had not boarded
the ship that had been sunk, even though I knew she would be deeply
concerned for my safety.
Upon finally returning to Korea, I found nothing had changed. Japan’s
tyrannical rule was becoming worse by the day. The entire land
was soaked in blood and tears. I returned to Heuksok Dong in Seoul
and attended the Myungsudae Church. I kept detailed diaries of all the
new realizations that I had each day. On days when I had a great number
of such realizations, I would fill an entire diary. I was receiving answers
to many of the questions that I had struggled with over the years. It was
as if my years of prayers and search for truth were being answered. It
happened in a short time, as if a ball of fire were passing through me.
During this time I had the realization, “The relationship between
God and mankind is that of a father and his children, and God is deeply
saddened to see their suffering.” In this moment all the secrets of the
universe were resolved in my mind. Suddenly, it was as if someone had
turned on a movie projector. Everything that had happened since the time
humankind broke God’s commandment played out clearly before my eyes.
Hot tears flowed continuously from my eyes. I fell to my knees and bowed
my head to the floor. For the longest time I couldn’t get up. Just as when my
father had carried me home on his back as a child, I laid my body down in
God’s lap and let the tears flow. Nine years after my encounter with Jesus,
my eyes had finally been opened to the true love of God.
God created Adam and Eve and sent them into this world to be fruitful,
to multiply, and to bring about a world of peace where they would
live. But they could not wait for God’s time. They committed fornication
and bore two sons, Cain and Abel. The children who were born from
the Fall did not trust each other and brought about an incident where
one brother murdered the other. The peace of this world was shattered,
sin covered the world, and God’s sorrow began. Then humankind committed
another terrible sin by killing Jesus, the Messiah. So the suffering
that humanity experiences today is a process of atonement that it must
pass through as God’s sorrow continues.
Jesus had appeared to me as a boy of sixteen because he wanted me
to know the root of the Original Sin that humankind had committed
and to bring about a world of peace where sin and the Fall would no
longer exist. I had received God’s serious word to atone for the sins of
humanity and bring about the world of peace that God had originally
created. The world of peace that is God’s desire is not someplace we
go to after death. God wants this world, where we live now, to be the
completely peaceful and happy world that He created in the beginning.
God certainly did not send Adam and Eve into the world for them to
suffer. I had to let the world know this incredible truth.
Having discovered the secrets of the creation of the universe, I felt
my heart become like a calm ocean. My heart was filled with the word
of God. It felt as though it might explode, and my face was always shining
with joy.

Befriending Laborers by Sharing Their Suffering

Just as I had done in Seoul, I made it a point to go everywhere
in Tokyo. When my friends would go to places such as Nikko to
see the beautiful scenery, I would prefer to stay behind and walk
through all the neighborhoods of Tokyo. I found that it was a city that
looked fancy on the outside but was actually filled with impoverished
people. Again I gave all the money that I received from home to the
poor people.
Back then everyone in Japan was hungry too. Among the Korean
students there were many who were in financial difficulty. When I received
my allotment of meal tickets each month I would give them all
away to students who couldn’t afford them and told them, “Eat. Eat all
you want.” I didn’t worry about earning money. I could go anywhere and
work as a day laborer and be fed. I enjoyed earning money and using
the money to help pay the tuition of students who didn’t have money.
Helping others and giving them food to eat filled me with energy.
After I had given away all the money I had, I would work as a
deliveryman using a bicycle-drawn cart. I went to every district of Tokyo
with that cart. Once, in Ginza, with its dazzling lights, I was carrying a
telephone pole on my cart and it turned over in the middle of an intersection.
Everyone around ran for their lives. Because of these kinds of experiences
I still know the geography of Tokyo like the back of my hand.
I was a laborer among laborers and a friend to laborers. Just like the
laborers who smelled of sweat, I would go to the work sites and work
until the sweat was pouring down my body. They were my brothers, and
I didn’t mind the terrible smells. I shared sleeping quilts with them that
were so filthy that black lice crawled across them in a line formation.
I didn’t hesitate to grasp hands that were caked with dirt. Their sweat
mixed with grime was filled with an irresistible warmth of heart. It was
their warm hearts that I found so attractive.
Primarily I worked as a laborer at the Kawasaki steel mill and shipyard.
In the shipyard there were barges used to haul coal. We would
form teams of three laborers each and work until one o’clock in the
morning to fill a barge with 120 tons of coal. We Koreans could do in
one night what it took the Japanese three days to accomplish.
There were people at some work sites who extorted the blood and
sweat of the laborers. Often these were the foremen who directly managed
the laborers. They would take 30 percent of the money earned
by the laborers they managed and keep it for themselves. The laborers
were powerless to do anything about this. The foremen would exploit
the weak but curry favor with those who were strong. I became so angry
with one foreman that I finally went to him with two friends and
demanded that he pay the workers their full wages.
“If you make someone work, then pay him exactly what he is owed,”
I told him.
He still refused, so we went to him a second day and even a third day.
We were determined to keep up the pressure until he relented. Finally I
kicked him and made him fall down. I am normally a quiet and passive
person, but when I become angry the stubborn character of my younger
years comes back.
The Kawasaki steel mill had vats used to store sulfuric acid. Workers
would clean these by going into them and making the raw material
flow out. The fumes from the sulfuric acid were extremely toxic, and a
person could not remain inside for more than fifteen minutes. Even in
such deplorable working conditions, the workers risked their lives in
order to have food to eat. Food was that precious.
I was always hungry. I was careful, though, to never eat a meal for my
own sake. I felt there needed to be a specific reason for me to eat a particular
meal. So as I would sit down to each meal I would ask myself the
reasons for my hunger: “Did I really work hard? Did I work for myself,
or for a public purpose?” I would face a bowl of rice and tell it, “I am
eating you so that I can do tasks that are more glorious and more for the
public good than what I did yesterday.” Then the rice would smile back
at me with its approval. In those instances, the time spent eating a meal
was mystical and joyful. When I didn’t feel qualified to talk this way, I
would skip the meal no matter how hungry I might be. As a result, there
were not many days when I would have even two meals.
I didn’t limit myself to two meals a day because I had a small appetite. In
fact, once I began to eat there was no limit to the amount I could consume. I
once ate eleven large bowls of udon in one sitting. Another time I ate seven
bowls of a dish consisting of chicken and a fried egg over rice. Despite this
appetite I kept up my custom of not eating lunch and limiting myself to two
meals a day until I was more than thirty years old.
The sensation of hunger is a type of nostalgia. I knew very well about
the nostalgia of hunger, but I believed it was the least I could do to
sacrifice one meal a day for the sake of the world. I also never allowed
myself to wear new clothes. No matter how cold it might get, I would
not heat my room. When it was extremely cold I used a newspaper to
cover myself; it felt as warm as a quilt made of silk. I am very familiar
with the value of a sheet of newspaper.
At times I would simply go live for a while in an area of Shinagawa
where poor people lived. I slept with them, using rags for cover. On
warm sunny days I picked lice from their hair and ate rice with them.
There were many prostitutes on the streets of Shinagawa. I would listen
to them tell me about themselves, and I became their best friend
without ever drinking a drop of liquor. Some people claim they need to
be drunk in order to speak candidly about what is on their mind, but
that is just an excuse. When these women realized that I was sincere in
my sympathy for them, even without drinking any liquor, they opened
their hearts to me and told me their troubles.
I worked in many different jobs during my studies in Japan. I was
a janitor in an office building. I wrote letters for illiterate people. I
worked at various job sites and was a foreman. I was a fortune teller.
When I needed money quickly, I wrote calligraphy and sold it. I
never fell behind in my studies, however. I believed that all these
things were part of my training process. I did all sorts of jobs and
met all sorts of people. In the process I learned a lot about people.
Because I had this experience I can now take one look at a person and
have a good idea of what the person does for a living and whether he
is a good person. I don’t have to weigh various thoughts in my head,
because my body will tell me first.
I still believe that to develop good character a person needs to
experience many difficulties before turning thirty. People need to go
down into the crucible of despair at the bottom of human existence and
experience what that is like. People need to discover new possibilities in
the midst of hell. It is only when climbing out of the depths of despair
and making a new determination that we can be reborn as people able
to pioneer a new future.
We should not look only in one direction. We should look at both
those who are in a higher position and those lower. We should know to
look east, west, south, and north. To live a successful life depends on
how well we see with our mind’s eye. To see well with the mind’s eye
we must have many different experiences and remember them. Even
in the most difficult situations we should maintain our composure,
demonstrate warmth toward others, be self-reliant, and adapt well to
any circumstance.
A person of good character must be accustomed to rising to a high
position and then quickly falling to a low position. Most people are
afraid of falling from a high position, so they do everything they can to
preserve it. However, water that does not flow becomes stale. A person
who rises to a high position must be able to go back down and wait for
the time to come again. When the opportunity comes, he can rise to an
even higher position than before. This is the type of person who can
acquire a greatness that is admired by many people and is a great leader.
These are the experiences that a person should have before turning thirty.
Today I tell young people to experience everything they can in the
world. They need to directly or indirectly experience everything in the
world, as if they were devouring an encyclopedia. It is only then that
they can form their own identity. A person’s self-identity is his clear
subjective nature. Once a person has the confidence to say, “I can go
all around the country, and I will never come across a person who is
capable of defeating me,” then he is ready to take on any task and have
the confidence to accomplish it successfully. When a person lives life in
this way, he will be successful. Success is assured. This is the conclusion
I arrived at while living as a beggar in Tokyo.
I shared meals and slept with laborers in Tokyo, shared the grief of
hunger with beggars, learned the hard life, and earned my doctorate in
the philosophy of suffering. Only then was I able to understand God’s
will as He works to bring salvation to humanity. It is important to become
the king of suffering before age thirty. The way to gain the glory of
the Kingdom of Heaven is to become a king of suffering and earn your
doctorate in that philosophy.

UNTITLED ADDRESS TO CONFERENCE OF U.S. AND INTERNATIONAL LEADERS Rev. Sun Myung Moon

UNTITLED ADDRESS TO CONFERENCE OF U.S. AND INTERNATIONAL LEADERS

Rev. Sun Myung Moon

1976 Special Speech Enlightening What Has Happened and TF's Strategy

September 20, 1976 -- Tarrytown, New York

"I would like to share something important with you. I have had many experiences in which I was misunderstood, yet I remained absolutely silent without protesting and stood quietly on the side of God, giving Him my utmost loyalty and knowing that He was on my side. There is no death anymore, and if I were to suddenly die I would continue to work in the same way in the spirit world. That is why I don't protest, even though the world curses and criticizes me and is scornful to me. After my death millions of people in the spirit world and here on earth will testify to my deeds, and to what I have done in history. This may not come in my own lifetime, but in eternity I know that my deeds will shine.

Moreover, I will have opened the way to help those who suffer most, after I go to spirit world. I can be in a position to assist those who are suffering here on earth, because by my suffering I will have set the condition. You see, in the spirit world those in history who suffered the most in the name of God occupy the central positions, so I intend to outdo or surpass the suffering of all the past saints, so as to not only dwell among them but rise up above them, so that together we can more quickly liberate the suffering souls of the world. Do you understand? It's all a part of heavenly strategy. Even though I have suffered, and will suffer still more, and I will be misunderstood and accused even more, by taking this treatment without protest I continuously nurture this tradition, and eventually our way of life and our truth will prevail. I know it. The work will never stop, whether I am here on earth or up in heaven.

Thus it is immaterial whether or not I can unify the world within my lifetime, for this work will go on and on, and I will continue to lead it, whether I am here on earth or in the spirit world. This ideology, this philosophy, this tradition and this heart will inevitably unify the world. Even after my death, as a spirit man I will constantly appear and lead you into the same tradition, the same way of life, until we have achieved the complete kingdom of God here on earth. This is the principle under which I am operating. I do not expect this to happen in ten years or even in my lifetime, but in eternity.

I know the spirit world so well. I know its system and organization inside out. At present that world is invisible to you, but the assault of the spirit world upon the physical world is almost like a hurricane or a typhoon. Soon the new heaven and earth will open up in front of you. I know that timetable so clearly. It is coming, and it will bring a new world and a new way of life. When an extreme high pressure point and an extreme low pressure point confront, the impact is great and the result is new form. We might say that an historical typhoon has come to blow in front of the Unification Church, and the high and low pressures will clash and explode, opening up the way for us. That time is not very far away. The spirit world and the physical world are getting closer and closer, and I must lead you and this movement in the right direction."

Entire speech: http://www.unification.net/1976/760920.html

Address to Conference of US and International Leaders - Rev Sun Myung Moon