Yonji Scholarship Fund

Within Yonsei University stands a building called Appenzeller Hall, built during the Japanese colonial period. When we were students in the Department of Theology, it was a place where we spent much of our time. Above ground were classrooms and offices, but the basement was a space that belonged entirely to us. Student council rooms and club spaces lined the corridor, one after another.

There, we sought the path toward spiritual understanding. We wrestled with texts we could not fully grasp, sang together, and sometimes sat alone, writing our thoughts. Looking back, what we shared in those moments was something deeper—an exchange of hearts. We choose to call all of it “sharing.”

The Yonji Scholarship Fund was first proposed by Lee Jaehoon (Class of ’95), who hoped to offer even a small measure of support to those who, like us, are searching for their own way. Inspired by this wish, friends have come together to begin this small but meaningful effort.

“Yonji” is an abbreviation of “Yonsei Theology Basement” in Korean, the space we once shared together.

In the basement club rooms, we often ran into Jaehoon. We remember the gentle smile with which he greeted us, and the soft, low voice with which he sang while strumming his guitar.

At times, he wandered under the weight of his own questions; at others, he stood among demonstrators in the turbulence of those years. Yet he was never defined by apathy or extremity. To us, he was a quiet and sensitive person.

After leaving school, we each became absorbed in our own lives. As we struggled with the urgencies before us, Jaehoon would occasionally reappear. A single remark from him would bring back something we had forgotten, prompting us to reflect on ourselves.

Last autumn, we heard from him again after a long time. He told us he had been diagnosed with cancer. What followed was a blur of time—at moments we heard his condition was worsening rapidly, and at others that his response to treatment was better than expected.

We felt unsteady, as though on a roller coaster, afraid of losing him. Yet Jaehoon himself remained remarkably composed. He filled his time with care, quietly putting things in order. He often said that he had received more than he could ever repay. Until the very end, he reflected on how he might share what he had.

The Yonji Scholarship Fund is the conclusion he reached after deep reflection. We who remain will carry forward what he left behind.

We recall a road trip we once took with Jaehoon. Taking turns at the wheel, we drove along narrow country roads. After a long journey, passing fields of spring flowers in bloom, we came to a quiet harbor in the south.

There were almost no people there. The railings above the breakwater were covered with countless yellow ribbons. The hope for their return had long since been shattered, but the promise never to forget remained as strong as ever. In the slightest breeze, the ribbons twisted and turned again and again.

Just as we once did, you may be going through a difficult time. We can only begin to imagine. Perhaps it is far heavier and more painful than we could ever understand. While you endure, we hope to offer even the smallest measure of support.

Like those small ribbons, we hope for a quiet yet enduring sense of solidarity.

FYI, the harbor is Paengmok Harbor on Korea's southern coast, overlooking the sea where the Sewol ferry sank in the spring of 2014, claiming 304 lives.