Mother of Peace: Episode 20

Mother of Peace: And God Shall Wipe Away All Tears from Their Eyes
A Memoir by Hak Ja Han Moon
Chapter 3: The Marriage Supper of the Lamb, pg 86-92


The significance and value of this joyful occasion should have been praised, glorified and honored by all nations and peoples. Yet it was marred by a distressing incident. The day before the ceremony, the Ministry of Home Affairs, responding to a Christian group’s accusations, arrested and interrogated Father Moon. He was able to return to his quarters in the church only after being subjected to humiliating questions until 11:00 p.m. Yet under the grace of God and the Holy Spirit, Father Moon and I, and the entire congregation, put aside this painful experience as if it had never happened and conducted the marriage supper of the Lamb with serene hearts.

God’s predestined will was that His only begotten Son and Daughter would become one flesh through the marriage supper of the Lamb and that, through them, the dwelling place of God would be with men and women. True men and women are the rightful rulers of creation, the entire universe, heaven and earth. The Holy Wedding finally realized this ideal, which Adam and Eve had failed to achieve. Thus, these ceremonies marked my formal enthronement as the Mother of the universe and Mother of peace.

After the ceremony, Father Moon and I, as husband and wife, ate at the same table for the first time. It goes without saying that newlyweds expect to go on a honeymoon and dream of their cozy life together, but it was not so with us. Our thoughts were fixed only upon God and the church. Nonetheless, I treasured every glance we shared and felt a love infinitely profound, a holy love that we wished to bequeath to all humankind.

We then changed into bright Korean traditional wedding outfits, and my husband and I sang and danced to return glory to God, enjoying a merry time together with the members. When the members called for the bride to sing, I sang a song called “When the Spring Comes.” 

When the spring comes,
azaleas bloom in the mountains 
and meadows.
Where the azaleas bloom, 
so does my heart.

Spring signifies freshness and newness. I love spring, as it is the season of hope. Spring brings with it the expectation that, as we leave the cold winter behind, our days will be vibrant with life. It awakens our dreams.

As I sang, I was thinking that the history of the Unification Church should begin anew with this coming of spring. The appearance of the family of the True Parents on earth that day flung open a new door in the history of God’s dispensation. The day of the Holy Wedding Ceremony, conducted after we had lived through perilous years, was the day of God’s greatest delight.

In the New Testament’s Book of Revelation, it is written that the marriage supper of the Lamb will take place when the Lord comes again at the end of times. That prophecy was fulfilled by the Holy Wedding, by which the only begotten Son and only begotten Daughter, lost at the beginning of human history, were brought together as bridegroom and bride and anointed as the True Parents. As we were joined as husband and wife, I made a firm resolution in front of God:

During my lifetime, my beloved husband and I will bring to a conclusion the history of the providence of restoration through indemnity, during which God has laboriously toiled. I know that what hurts God’s heart more than anything else are the religious conflicts that take place in His name. Without fail, we will end them. 

A small boat on heavy seas

In the side streets and workplaces of South Korea, people were whispering out of worry, anxious over the fate of their nation. “Doesn’t it feel like something is about to happen?” one would say, to which his friend would respond, “I feel the same way. We live in troubled times. If only there were someone who could set this world right.”

I was sure such worries would soon dissipate. The year of our Holy Wedding Ceremony, 1960, was a turning point, for great changes were taking place both at home and abroad. In South Korea, the people’s longing for democracy burst forth, and they ousted the authoritarian Liberal Party. Overseas, John F. Kennedy was elected president of the United States, and we felt the way opening toward a new era.

But history is never that simple. The rifts of the Cold War grew deeper, and conflict worsened between the communist realm and the Free World. A flame of popular outcry for democracy flared up in the Soviet Bloc nations of Eastern Europe, but the state crushed its advocates, and the fire grew dim again. It seemed that the time for peace was not yet at hand. People continued praying for a true leader to appear.

Great changes also were taking place for the Unification Church. Virtually the whole of Korea had stood in opposition to our church, with Christianity issuing the most scathing criticisms. But now, on the foundation of embracing a young woman leader, the True Mother, we began ecumenical dialogues and transitioned from Christian denomination to global religious movement. Our members prayed that we could be a beacon, shining forth a new hope of salvation. In particular, women, who so long have been oppressed, perceived that a true women’s movement was being set in motion.

* *

Three days after the Holy Wedding Ceremony, my husband and I visited Ju-an Farm in Incheon, not far from the border with North Korea, with several members. We planted grapevines and gingko and zelkova trees. As I planted a young sapling, I offered a prayer: “May you grow well and become a big, strong tree that will bear the fruit of hope for the people of the world.” I was not praying only for that particular tree, but for success in the mission given to my husband and me. As a tree provides people with fruit as well as shade, so should we and all people of faith.

From the outset, high waves and strong winds battered the small boat of our newly married life. Fortunately, I was prepared for that. It is said that newlyweds know nothing but happiness, but that was not our main purpose. My husband and I were not in a position to focus very much on our personal contentment.

Our first living space was a small, sparsely decorated room at the back of Cheongpa-dong Church. On one side, it connected to the chapel, and on the other to the tiniest of courtyards. Our kitchen was small and old fashioned, with a rough cement floor. I cooked for my husband in that kitchen, which was always smoke-filled from coal briquettes. From the first day I prepared his meal, I was quite at home in that kitchen, which was similar to many my little family had occupied. I was quite deft with the cutting knife, even though my hands were cold. When people saw me preparing the various dishes without much trouble, they were surprised. Until a few weeks prior they had thought of me as only a teenage nursing student.

The church was always crowded with members, and my husband and I seldom spent time by ourselves. In such a public setting, Father Moon and I would sit across from each other and talk about our plans for the world. Members would show concern and say to us, “Please, you really should eat now.” We would look at the clock and often see it was 2:00 or 3:00 in the afternoon, and we hadn’t given a thought to lunch. I focused on the many tasks that would be entrusted to me in the future. I realized that not only Korea but also the rest of the world was expecting me to extend my helping hand.

Beginning with our first daughter, Ye-jin, I gave birth to children one after another. The church headquarters that served also as our home was a small and poorly insulated Japanese-style house, and I suffered postpartum ailments as a result of delivering babies there. I was young but, as women have done from time immemorial, I quietly endured the pain of childbirth. Within my heart, Heavenly Parent was present at every moment. No matter how difficult the situation and surroundings, I was filled with joy. Never for a moment did I lack the helping hand of God, working His miracles in the background.

Within a few years, our small quarters were filled to bursting with our many children. Perhaps that is why they grew up loving and caring for one another. I considered them to be miniature expressions of God. I would kiss their cheeks and chat affectionately with them, and I prayed for them ceaselessly. I knew that God comes to dwell in the home where parents and children are harmonious.

Even before our wedding, with God’s providence at the forefront of my mind, I resolved to have 13 children. Today people look at you askance if you have many children, but I saw that God wanted 12, to signify the perfection of east, west, north, and south. When you add one, corresponding to the central position, you get 13, which opens the way for the continued development of the providence to its ultimate conclusion.

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