The New Korean-American Conflict

     The Bergen Record recently reported another skirmish between a Korean church and a Bergen County community.  This time, it happened in Norwood.  If memory serves me correctly, it has also happened in recent years in Cliffside Park, Englewood Cliffs, Leonia, and Little Ferry.  It usually happens this way: the Korean congregation finds a property or an existing building in a community.  They make plans to convert or expand the property into a church building.  They submit plans to the borough, who then rejects the proposal, suggesting the proposed facility will “negatively affect the character of the borough” (Norwood), cause traffic problems, or some other reason.  In response, the Korean congregation cries “racism,” files a lawsuit, and off to court they go.  I personally think this issue is much deeper than one of anti-Korean sentiment.  As one who pastored a church that tried to find a suitable meeting place in Bergen County for several years, let me try to summarize what is happening.

    If you look around Bergen County, you will notice that Korean churches are thriving while most other churches are declining.  In many cases, the small, struggling American congregations could not pay their bills without their Korean tenants.  But as most homeowners know, there is nothing like having your own home.  So when a Korean church grows to the point where they need their own building, they begin to look for a permanent place.  What they find in Bergen County is very few empty lots or existing buildings suitable for a church, especially when zoning guidelines make it nearly impossible to establish a church in a community.  For example, most boroughs require public assembly facilities to provide 1 parking space for every 3 to 3.5 seats available inside.  If a church wants to provide seating for 300 people in its sanctuary, they will need parking for about 100 cars.  Finding a place like that in Bergen County will definitely require divine intervention.  If the church cannot meet the parking ratio, the borough can grant a variance and allow on-street parking.  (Getting that to happen will require another case of divine intervention.)  But what if they grant the variance?  In the case of a Korean church, the community will have an invasion of parishioners’ cars on neighborhood streets most of the day on Sunday and for an hour at about 6AM each day for the early morning prayer meeting, a defining distinctive of Korean churches.  This is where Orthodox Jews have the advantage since they walk to their Sabbath worship services and do not need the parking

     Another problem Korean churches often have is their lack of a base in the community they target for a church site.  Korean churches seem to operate as regional churches rather than community churches.  In Bergen County, this results in parishioners of Korean churches coming from all over Northern New Jersey and New York to attend services.  This is in contrast to community churches, which means the church targets its outreach to a local community and its parishioners generally come from the local or adjacent communities.  In the regional church model, the church chooses the target community because it happens to have space or a suitable building available.  Because Korean churches tend to operate this way, no wonder a community resists their attempts to build a large church in a place where nobody knows their names.  Certainly race could be an issue, but probably just as important is the target community’s apprehension toward an unknown group of people, well-intentioned or not, coming in from the outside offering spiritual services that are only available to a small segment of the community, in this case the Korean community.  Aren’t churches supposed to be for everybody?  Not when the church signs and services are not in English.  As an American, I must admit that I am offended when I cannot figure out what type of business is in a building because the signs are not in English.  It tells me that I am not really wanted there.  In this way, some of the Korean churches have a tough sell.

     The tax-exempt status is another problem for any church attempting to get a facility in a community.  Once the IRS recognizes a church, it can purchase a facility and not pay property taxes.  This potential loss of revenue no doubt makes borough officials less than enthusiastic about having a church move to town and buy property.  In spite of this, American municipal planning philosophy has long-held that churches are a benefit to a community even without the tax money.

     Overall, the Korean churches greatest problem may be the size of their success.  While American congregations are in a spiritual recession, Korean congregations are thriving and growing.  Unfortunately, most towns in Bergen County have decided there is no more room at the inn for new churches.  (These same towns will generally manage to squeeze in a few more places to shop, though, and Fort Lee is always good for another high-rise or two.)  Certainly racism plays a part in the Korean churches’ struggle with local Boards of Adjustment.  Yet, I also think the Korean churches are feeling the effects of a battle for America’s soul.  In a time when everyone is raving about the American economy, our churches are quietly declining and dying.  These are the best and worst of times.  I suppose we have to be concerned about the character of our boroughs, but should we not also be concerned about the soul of our boroughs?  Maybe our new Korean neighbors have come here just to raise that very question.

This article was written in 2000, and is still true ten years later.