The Dilemma of East Asian Contextualisation

Navigating the demonisation-syncretism spectrum

(Wikimedia Commons)

Canberra, 1991: Chung Hyun Kyung, a Korean woman, dressed up as a shaman, got on stage with Korean and Aboriginal dancers and began to invoke various spirits. Drums beat a traditional rhythm as she led an exorcist’s dance and burnt a piece of paper listing the names of the spirits, burning ashes rising to heaven.

Chung is also a Christian theologian, and this presentation occurred at the Seventh Assembly of the World Council of Churches. She invoked not just the Holy Spirit but also ‘the spirits of suffering and oppressed individuals, peoples and parts of creation—ranging from Hagar to Joan of Arc, the victims of Tiananmen Square, and the Amazon rain forest’ which she claimed ‘were spirits filled with han—a Korean word meaning resentment, bitterness, and grief’.¹ Some criticised her of syncretism and utter heresy; others admired her courageous attempt to reclaim her cultural heritage and contextualise her faith.

Despite it occurring more than 30 years ago, this well-known episode is a go-to anecdote for East Asian theologians when discussing issues of contextualisation – it’s just so emblematic of issues that plague East Asian contexts to this day.

---

If you’ve been following along with my newsletter, you’ll know I had a conservative evangelical-cum-fundamentalist upbringing that instinctively demonised non-western/Christian cultures and religions. Any whiff of entertaining what was considered ‘pagan’ or ‘cultic’ or ‘demonic’ was a serious no-go; it all fell under the broad and vague category of syncretism which was an unforgivable sin.

Well, it’s much more nuanced and complicated than that. When I first heard about ‘contextualisation’ it made me feel both frustrated (that it hadn’t ever been taught to me as a possibility) and excited (that there didn’t need to be such a clear-cut dichotomy between the Christian faith and East Asian cultures).

I remember having lunch with a Japanese friend at Mister Donut in Kawagoe, who out of the blue remarked, ‘Why do churches in Japan have to be in western-styled buildings? Why can’t we gather in Japanese temples?’ To me at the age of 21, this was both as radical as it was thrilling a notion. We then discussed the common (western) misconception that Japanese people are perpetually repressed and unable to express emotions, pointing to ‘matsuri’ or festivals as beautifully unabashed communal displays of joy, laughter and pride in their own culture and people. And then the consequent question: ‘Why don’t we have matsuris for Jesus?!’

Photo by Julie Fader on Unsplash

Because I’ve been primarily living in the West and not in East Asia for the past decade, I haven’t needed to wrestle with issues of contextualisation as much as others. But the more I read East Asian theologies, the more I noticed two things: one, the perennial dilemma of how to be a faithful East Asian Christian when faith and cultural heritage often seem in tension; and two, that many East Asian Christians had come to the same conclusion as I had – pure and simple (read: extreme and uninformed) demonisation was damaging, even destructive, because it meant total rejection of one’s culture and nipping any meaningful engagement in the bud.

But at the same time there was also a sense that pure and simple (again, read: extreme and uninformed) syncretism, though it might seem the easiest way, wasn’t necessarily right either. For there are elements of one’s culture – any and every culture – that are beautiful and/or redemptive, and there are elements that are twisted and/or harmful. Simon Chan summarises this dilemma in a concise key question: ‘Where does genuine contextualisation end and questionable syncretism begin?’²

I’m going to give a brief overview of the two ends of the spectrum – demonisation (uncritical rejection) and syncretism (uncritical embracing) – before sharing a few more explorative thoughts on contextualisation. Spoiler alert: I don’t have the right answer(s). There’s a reason why so many have wrestled with this for decades. But my hope is not to solve it all; it’s simply to continue a necessary conversation.

---

Note: I use ‘pentecostalism’ as a catch-all term (not just denominationally) for all Christianities that embody pentecostal/charismatic characteristics which are prevalent in East Asian cultures.

Pentecostalism has proliferated amongst indigenous cultures in the Majority World due to their common openness to the spirit world. However, pentecostalism also has a tendency to demonise indigenous religions due to a ‘spiritual warfare’ framework – a divine/satanic conflict where you’re either on God’s side or the devil’s side – and evil spirits are to be found in various people, objects, locations, etc.

This process of demonisation ‘makes indigenous spirits representatives of the devil’, and converts often undergo deliverance rituals to rid themselves of demonic influences.³ For example, Christians previously linked with Taoist temples undergo exorcism sessions, or practices/objects thought to serve as entry points for evil spirits are destroyed (e.g. acupuncture, jade artefacts, Persian rugs, images of Chinese dragons).⁴ I’ve also shared in a previous post about how I wasn’t allowed to participate in Tanabata or play with Yu-Gi-Oh! growing up.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Don’t get me wrong: I believe there are times when this caution is warranted. I’ve had experiences before of feeling tangible spiritual darkness and heaviness, for example, whilst reading the Death Note manga or walking past a fortune teller in Ikebukuro – and this was in my early teens when I had no formed notion of spirituality.⁵ Asian converts are themselves most acutely aware of the potential dangers of unbridled Asian spiritualities (e.g. fear of malevolent spirits).

But sometimes the demonisation is simply extreme, unhelpful and downright wrong. I once visited an American church plant in Tokyo which had decided that the Japanese word for ‘God’ – ‘kami-sama’ (神様) – was too closely associated with the Shinto animistic belief that kami live in everything (e.g. people, animals, nature, inanimate objects). Instead, they’d decided to use the romaji term ‘Goddo’ – an exceedingly unnatural transliteral pronunciation of the English word ‘God’. (A reminder that God is definitely not English, let alone American.) This was an entirely misguided notion stemming from western linguistic imperialism that blatantly demonised and negated the Japanese language. Ironically, another friend who was also visiting spent the majority of the service thinking she’d unwittingly stumbled upon a cult.

(Wikimedia Commons)

On the other end of the spectrum is syncretism where elements of Christianity fuse together with indigenous beliefs. One good case study is South Korea with its similarities between pentecostalism and shamanism – we’ve already seen this play out in the accusations levelled against Chung.

Shamanism is a religion with 5,000 years of Korean history (compared with 140 years of Christianity). Its worldview includes the animistic belief that every animate and inanimate object – including dead ancestors – has a spirit who wields power over individuals and is able to bring both blessing (e.g. prosperity, longevity) and curse (e.g. illness).⁶ David Yonggi Cho, founder of Yoido Full Gospel Church, faced many an allegation of syncretism since his Christian practices (e.g. speaking in tongues, deliverance, praying for healing, material prosperity) were seen to mirror and incorporate shamanistic elements.

Yet Cho had explicitly rejected shamanism, claiming it as demonic and denying any admixture. (This is in contrast to Chung’s deliberate syncretistic impulse.) He would insist that his practices were done in the name of Jesus; he would quote scripture when performing healing rituals to demonstrate its biblical nature.⁷ So the question is: had Cho's Christianity achieved ‘genuine contextualisation’, or had it remained in the realm of ‘questionable syncretism’?

I love this photo someone showed me of a communion table at an American Christian college which doesn’t just have bread and cup, but also a bowl of rice. I found this symbolic gesture of inclusivity towards the Majority World moving as it rightly recognises the staple of 3.5 billion people. It also reminded me of light-hearted conversations I’ve had with Japanese Christians about whether it was possible to partake in communion with saké and mochi instead of wine and bread (and never reaching an adequate conclusion).

On a more serious note, what about ancestral veneration, one of the biggest points of contention in East Asian contexts? I’ve already shared in a previous post about friends who’ve converted to Christianity being advised not to participate in traditional rituals to honour one’s ancestors – causing many to become ostracised or disowned by their families – because it’s often perceived (mainly by westerners) not as ‘veneration’ but as ancestral ‘worship’ and therefore idolatry. This issue is exemplified on a wider scale by the Chinese Rites controversy in which the Holy See banned Chinese Christians from honouring their ancestors for two centuries (1742–1939).⁸

Yet Chan points to a possible contextual approach proposed by the Japanese indigenous Christian movements (JICMs). They evangelise to, pray for and baptise their dead ancestors because they believe (orthodoxly) that salvation can only come from a personal encounter with Jesus.⁹ This theology of the communion of saints has emerged in response to centuries of instinctive demonisation, with the aim to allow East Asian Christians to remain christological and honour their ancestors.¹⁰

---

So… what’s right? Who’s right?

I honestly don’t know. I worry about going too far towards the syncretism end of the spectrum because I don’t want to stray into heresy. But I also worry I’ve been so westernised that a faithful East Asian contextualisation causes unnecessary alarm bells to ring just because I’m conditioned to react with utmost suspicion towards anything that doesn’t fit neatly into a western orthodox form of Christianity.

Like I said, there aren’t any easy answers. And I suspect what is right and acceptable for one person can be wrong and unacceptable for another person. The same Japanese friend I’d discussed Jesus matsuris with reacted viscerally against the JICM practices – for him, that went too far. Who’s right? What do we do when faithful Christians with clear consciences find themselves at odds with one another?

Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash

What I do know is that it really irks me when there is wholesale demonisation of East Asian cultures by western Christians – rather than a sympathetic curiosity and understanding – especially since western syncretism is just as much of an issue. David M. Thompson rebuts the simplistic conclusion that Korean pentecostalism is just a guise for shamanism by noting that Anglo-Saxon pagan sites of worship were used for Christian worship in England (7th c.) as a strategy for contextualisation.¹¹ He essentially encourages us not to make sweeping judgements prematurely since Christianity in East Asia is still young and in development – he encourages us to wait and see. It's also perhaps hypocritical of westerners to demonise Korean pentecostalism when one of its doctrines – the ‘theology of prosperity’ (aka prosperity gospel) – emerged from North America.¹² I won’t explore western syncretism further in this post, but remember that no culture is free from the dilemmas of contextualisation.

Ultimately, East Asian Christians have persevered in their faith amid great upheaval and conflict. Instead of instinctively denouncing them as syncretistic heathens, I really think we need to begin by affording a basic level of respect and trust to them: from Cho who claimed his practices were Christian and not shamanistic; to the JICMs which declare their ancestral veneration to be christological; to Chinese Christians who believe with clear conscience that Chinese rites are not idolatrous but biblical. Their heart and motivation is to honour Jesus and to honour their East Asian heritage – and those in the western church should in turn honour their East Asian siblings’ valiant theological wrestlings. Rather than simplistic demonising that leads to immediate disqualification, let’s take each unique cultural context seriously and grapple with the hard issues together, all whilst seeking the Spirit’s wisdom. Because Lord, do we need it.

---

To finish: Regardless of what you think of Chung’s presentation, I loved her profoundly moving Struggle to be the Sun Again – a seminal text for Asian women’s theology – as well as this short clip of her talking about the image of God:

1. Kirsteen Kim, The Holy Spirit in the World: A Global Conversation (New York: Orbis Books, 2007), p. viii.

2. Simon Chan, ‘Folk Christianity and Primal Spirituality: Prospects for Theological Development’, in Christian Movements in Southeast Asia: A Theological Exploration, ed. by Michael Nai-Chiu Poon (Singapore: Genesis Books and Trinity Theological College, 2010), pp. 1–17, at p. 6.

3. Joel Robbins, ‘The Globalization of Pentecostal and Charismatic Christianity’, Annual Review of Anthropology, 33 (2004): 117–43, at p. 128.

4. Simon Chan, ‘Asian Pentecostalism, Social Concern and the Ethics of Conformism’, Transformation, 11 (1994): 29–32, at p. 31, 8.

5. Disclaimer: I’m not making any judgements whatsoever – these were personal experiences specific to me. If you are a spiritually sensitive person, it’s probably good to exercise case-by-case discernment.

6. Andrew Eungi Kim, ‘Pentecostalism in Korea: Shamanism and the Reshaping of Korean Christianity’, in Pentecostalism and Shamanism in Asia, ed. by Paul L. Swanson (Nagoya: Nanzan Institute for Religion and Culture, 2013), pp. 7–29, at p. 11.

7. Lee Young-hoon, The Holy Spirit Movement in Korea: Its Historical and Theological Development (Oxford: Regnum Books International, 2009), pp. 113–14.

8. Renie Chow Choy explains that ‘Catholic teaching today generally recognizes Chinese rites of ancestral veneration as an appropriate fulfilment of Chinese filial piety and the fourth commandment, and as a gathering of prayers for the Church suffering (those in purgatory) and the Church triumphant (those in heaven) within the communion of saints’ – Ancestral Feeling: Postcolonial Thoughts on Western Christian Heritage (London: SCM Press, 2021), p. 87.

9. Simon Chan, Grassroots Asian Theology: Thinking the Faith from the Ground Up (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2014), pp. 174, 189.

10. Chan also believes that the JICM theology of the dead has the potential to help inform a fresh interpretation of the communion of saints within the global (and western) church.

11. David M. Thompson, ‘Introduction: mapping Asian Christianity in the context of world Christianity’, in Christian Theology in Asia, ed. by Sebastian C. H. Kim (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), pp. 3–21, at p. 18.

12. Alena Govorounova, ‘Pentecostalism and Shamanism in Asia and Beyond: An Inter-disciplinary Analysis’, in Pentecostalism and Shamanism in Asia, ed. by Paul L. Swanson (Nagoya: Nanzan Institute for Religion and Culture, 2013), pp. 54–121, at p. 82