adventures in humility

big picture environment studies

2008-06-04T21:04:00.001+02:00

Long term readers (all two of you) will know that I tout my Dad on this blog from time to time. In that light I thought I would point out the recent initiative by the University of Washington, his employer, to create a College of the Environment. It would include the departments of Aquatic and Fishery Sciences, Atmospheric Sciences, Earth and Space Sciences, Marine Affairs, Oceanography, and Forest Resources as well as members of other departments who might be particularly interested in environmental issues. This would foster a broader dialogue with voices from across disciplines, including scientists and policy experts. A Seattle Times op-ed says the effort “catches up with the seamless view students have of the world they are studying, experiencing, and preparing to manage.” Dad’s been a part of this push from the beginning, and I’m glad it’s moving forward. Addressing the environmental issues of today requires input from researchers, policy makers, economists, political scientists, historians, and many more. In a recent article on the ethics of climate change, Richard Somerville makes this point, suggesting scientists cannot and should not work alone at addressing climate change. Perhaps UW’s College of the Environment can widen the conversation just a bit more.

deferment

2008-06-04T17:32:00.002+02:00

I think "defer" is a funny verb. It literally means to put off or delay, but it has some strong connotations for me. The first thing that comes to mind is Vietnam, specifically that coveted 2-s student deferment. There's the student loan angle - deferring payment on those things. And then there's Langston Hughes and his poem "Dream Deffered." It all combines to give me a decidedly negative feeling about deferring anything (unless it's military service, of course).

I bring this up because I am, in fact, deferring my acceptance to PTS for a year. The last month has been a bit of a roller-coaster ride, and I've gone back and forth about this. A one-year position at the Campus Chapel in Ann Arbor fell into my lap, but it obviously meant postponing everything else for a year. I managed to get over the mental deferment hurdle by focusing on how the job will eventually contribute to my success at Princeton. I'll be a better sem student for having spent a year working at the Chapel.

So, I'm Ann Arbor bound (only 2.5 hours from Cleveland!). No dreams drying up like raisins in the sun - just another stop along the way.

scattered thoughts on the pleasant peninsula

2008-05-23T21:01:00.002+02:00

I write this post in order to organize some things bouncing around in my head, so it is more for my own edification than for public consumption. Of course, if I’m honest, that’s true of this whole blogging endeavor, but I’ll save that discussion for another day.

Yesterday I got back from spending a week in Michigan. I originally intended to go for a long weekend because my Seattle sister was there visiting my Grand Rapids sister, and I hate to miss a party. It ballooned into a week so I could attend the annual meeting of the CRCMA (Christian Reformed Campus Ministers Association) as an observer of sorts. More on that in a bit…

I was able to catch up with a lot of people on West Michigan during my visit. In addition to my immediate family I hung out with an aunt and uncle, a bunch of cousins, my old boss and mentor, another former boss, a friend from the dorms who I last saw in Vienna, my favorite Calvin professor, one of my closest friends and his wife, two former band-mates of mine, my old college chaplain, a very dear family who took care of me when I was at college so far from at home, a good friend who has been on an incredible personal journey over the last three years, my former pastor and his family, another former band-mate who just graduated from PTS, the father of another of my closest friends who is a Calvin Sem prof, a good friend and colleague of my uncle, a former Jubilee Fellow with me, a former Worship Apprentice, the uncle of another good friend of mine, and some others I’m surely forgetting. You get the idea. Eventually it struck me – I have too many connections in West Michigan not to acknowledge it as more than just a place I lived for four years while I was in college. For a while I’ve considered myself a nomad, too transient to have a real home. The place I usually claim, Seattle, is a city where I’ve never actually lived. All this is to say, this week I appreciated being in a place where I feel connected.

Speaking of connected, that was the theme of the campus ministry conference. I thoroughly enjoyed spending time with this random collection of folks who work at universities all over North America. I appreciate their vision of engaging the whole campus with the whole gospel by living for Christ with their whole lives. It's a wholistic ministry that a lot of Christian campus organizations miss. The conference included listening in to a presentation by Nick Wolterstorff on Philosophy and Liturgy (of which I understood approximately 17.9%). We also heard from James K. A. Smith on Modernity and Post-Modernity at universities. I took a lot from his presentation, especially his call to be vulnerable in campus ministry. By that he meant we should not seek to argue or prove our faith to others with a goal of “winning” (I think). Rather, the post-modern world requires that we unapologetically put the Christian story out there next to other stories and let people choose. Part of that story telling includes Christian practice, of course, and living the story. Having some higher or neutral criteria which we can use to critique beliefs is impossible in postmodernity, so any critique we make of others has to be based on internal inconsistencies in their views (as their critique of ours must be). That leads to a vulnerability that is dangerous, but vital.

It was a very interesting presentation that I’m hardly doing justice to here, but (especially after talking to my Dad) I have some questions about. It makes a lot of sense in the humanities and arts to allow for what we might call robust pluralism, unapologetically telling our story and listening to the stories of others. But what about in the sciences? What happens when two environmental scientists look at the same data and interpret it differently? Is this because they have different lenses through which they see the world? If that’s the case, what makes one view more valid than another? Is it internal inconsistencies between the observable data and the commitments the scientist brings to it? Is it who can tell their story better than the other? If there are no neutral criteria to use in evaluating this – if it all depends on the commitments and perspectives we bring to the project – how does science even function? This is why we still have so many people who claim human-caused global warming is a “hoax.” There’s no trust in observable scientific data because that’s just part of that scientist’s “story.” These are questions that will continue to bug me, because I really don’t know the answer. I think I need to read more philosophy books.

Another provocative talk was done by Peter Schuurman, the Education Missions Specialist for CRC Home Missions. He talked about Christians engaging culture, and challenged the transformational model a bit. What he suggested was something that could, for lack of a better term, be described as play. In our language play doesn’t get enough credit. We blow things off as “mere play,” and “just playing” is a term for superficiality. I wish I had taken notes during this talk (I didn’t because I thought Peter was going to be spouting more of the same old transformationalist stuff I got at Calvin for four years), so I’m not the clearest on how Peter put things. However, his critique of Christians transforming culture was based in the innate arrogance of that stance. It can so easily slip into being “our work” and “our mission.” He drew on the Eastern image of perichoresis, the divine dance of the Trinity, always seeking the good of the other and always overflowing with love. In that vein he read a tongue-in-cheek passage that suggested the creation of this world was a type of divine party game in which the three persons of the Trinity decide to have some fun, or play, by bringing us into existence. Play has an innate humbleness to it, in contrast to transformation. I was reminded of the Westminster Shorter Q & A 1 – my chief end is to glorify God and enjoy him forever. Perhaps, as Peter suggested, that means reveling in being creation. Again, this is something I’ll have to intellectually chew on for a while.

Now I’m back, and they’re putting a new roof on my apartment building. I live on the top floor so the thumping of footsteps and the scraping removal of old shingles is quite loud. Nothing’s fallen off the wall yet, probably because I have almost nothing on the walls. But I find the noise oddly enjoyable.

And, in a random football note, I can’t believe I actually feel sorry for John Terry and Chelsea. Really, I didn’t think I had it in me. But nobody should lose because of a foot slip on a wet pitch during PKs. And it’s not like I wanted Man U to win either. Oh well.

surreal

2008-05-08T17:59:00.005+02:00

Where to start? I guess I'll just say it as plainly as possible: Last night I went to a performance by crooner Engelbert Humperdinck. It was, without a doubt, one of the strangest concert experiences I've had. On stage you've got a 72 year-old man who, frankly, looks pretty good and has tons of energy for his age. In the audience you've got mostly older women whose antics were incredible. These are adults behaving like teenagers, literally hurting each other to get one of his red handkerchiefs (I guess throwing them to the crowd is his signature move), going crazy when he made obscene jokes about himself. I spent most of the evening watching the audience, not the performer.

So, why did I find myself with not only a free ticket to this concert, but a backstage pass as well? (A pass I probably could have sold for a great deal of money.) Marianne's best friend Emily has a friend she met while doing mission work in Macedonia. Dave's a professional musician, and currently the keyboardist in Enge's band. He got the tickets for the three of us, and then we met him after and went out for a drink. (Sadly, we didn't get to meet Enge himself.)

It was really interesting to talk to Dave about his life, and especially how he tries to live as a Christian in that world. He interacts with people like Enge, stars who have more money than they know how to spend(he's sold over 150 million records), travel and perform anywhere they want, have women literally throwing themselves at them, but are still incredibly unhappy. It's evidenced by Enge's continued drinking problem (which he joked about on stage). I'm inspired by Dave's commitment to the lost people in this world. Of course, he's just starting his professional music career and will take whatever work he can get, but he has visions of doing great things for Christ.

In short, last night was a glimpse into another world. It's good to be reminded that God is just as active there as in other places.

catching up - desert island discs

2008-05-02T19:00:00.002+02:00

Some time ago (ok, an absurdly long time ago) I started to list the albums I would want with me on a desert island. I took an unplanned hiatus from blogging and never finished, so I'm going to bang out the whole list in one post. Here goes...

"All That You Can't Leave Behind" by U2 This is my favorite offering from what is obviously one of the best loved bands of the last thirty years. It's got a wide range of good stuff, from the iconic rock anthem (Beautiful Day) to the reflective and deeply spiritual (Grace). It's telling that at some point I've used almost every track on this album as a listening activity with my ESL students. They never fail to provoke interesting discussion. Of course, as I mentioned about "Live Wide Open," this list is deeply personal and I have personal reasons for choosing this one. The summer I spent at Snow Mountain Ranch was the summer this album burst into my musical consciousness. It was the soundtrack of an incredibly challenging and enriching three months, often thanks to my friends Tom and Drew. I can't think of more perfect songs than Elevation after finishing a grueling hike , or Walk On before starting it.

"When I Look In Your Eyes" by Diana Krall When I tell people about this album I usually point out that it was nominated for the Album of the Year Grammy in 1999, the first time in ages a jazz album had been considered. It ended up losing to Carlos Santana's "Supernatural," but to see Krall in the same category as The Dixie Chicks, TLC, and The Backstreet Boys was incredible (and she walked away with Best Jazz Vocal Performance). Last year's Herbie Hancock shocker was the only other time in recent history that jazz got such love from the Grammy Awards. The album's a fantastic throw back to the days of jazz divas like Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday. She mixes classic swing standards with lesser known gems. My favorite track is "Popsicle Toes." The combination of Krall's sensual delivery and the wonderful word play of songwriter Michael Franks makes it one of my favorite love songs. Again, though, what puts this over the top is the memory of seeing Krall perform at DeVos Hall in Grand Rapids from the third row. My sister got tickets for the two of us as a birthday present for me, and we had a blast.

"Bach Cello Suites" by Mstislav Rostropovich This is actually two CDs, but there's no way I could choose one of them over the other. If I had to pick just one album of classical music, this is the one. It's ironic because I usually prefer Romantic composers. You'll find much more Beethoven, Brahms, and Mendelssohn than Bach in my collection. But when my former boss Cindy lent me these CDs I was hooked immediately. Rostropovich recorded them in an empty church, as opposed to a studio, and the result is an incredibly warm and resonant quality. The 6 suites express just about every emotion you can imagine, and every time I listen to them I feel something new and different. I marvel at the versatility of something so simple - an unaccompanied cello. In later years I got a copy of the sheet music and tried to play them on my Euphonium. I hadn't grasped the depth of Rostropovich's mastery before then.

I think I could survive with those as a bare minimum. I thought this would be a much longer list, but those are the cut above. I give honorable mentions to: "Sound of Silence" by Simon and Garfunkel, "OK Computer" by Radiohead, "Ella and Louis" by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, Mendelssohn's "Symphonies 3 and 4", "Crash" by Dave Matthews Band, "Monk Alone" by Thelonius Monk, "In Between Dreams" by Jack Johnson, "The Score" by The Fugees, "Time Out" by Dave Brubeck, "The Messiah" by Handel, "Stunt" by Barenaked Ladies, "Kind of Blue" by Miles Davis, "The German Requiem" by Brahms, "Graceland" by Paul Simon, and "Saxophone Colossus" by Sonnie Rollins.

the next chapter

2008-04-29T02:18:00.002+02:00

What is it about me and life transitions? For those of you who don't know, this August I'm undertaking another. I was blessed with several great options for next year, but I'll be heading off to Princeton, NJ to start the Mdiv program at Princeton Theological Seminary. It seems like I'm always doing this - leaving friends, church, job, and what currently feels like home. This one will be especially hard since I'll be leaving Marianne for a year. Of course, I have marriage to look forward to at the end of the year. That helps! I'm reminded of Jesus' parables about waiting patiently, but expectantly for the bridegroom. Maybe this coming year will give me new insight into waiting for Christ's return. Marantha Lord Jesus! (and maranatha marriage!)

But as I look ahead to this fall, I'm filled with excitement and trepidation. I can't wait to get back to the academic environment, but I worry about the adjustment. I haven't written an academic paper in a long time. I have all sorts of questions about money, classes, transportation, classmates, but I'm trying to let them go. If I've learned anything from all the transitions I've gone through before, it's that God will be wherever I go. We're pretty sure this next step is God's will, and even if it's not he'll find a way to redeem it. As Neal Plantinga has said, "God is in the salvaging business." Maybe one of these days I'll finally settle down (I hope!).

two thoughts on american culture

2008-04-23T16:44:00.003+02:00

1. Last night Marianne and I once again enjoyed the privilege of hanging out with our friends Patricia and Daniel. I use that verb "hang out" on purpose, because of a question Patty had for us. She was wondering if English had a verb that meant to get together with people without having any set agenda or plans. The only thing we could come up with was "hang out," a relatively new addition to English and a usage that is still considered slang by some (Merriam Webster, for one). Using it to mean literally hanging something out (as in your shingle) is somewhat older, but I couldn't get details on the origins of the usage I'm talking about (how I wish I had the OED!). Anyway, I bring this up because in Portuguese there's a wonderful verb - combinar (I think that's the spelling). It's used for this sort of unplanned spending of time together, as well as situations were we might say things agree with each other. One of my favorite examples that Daniel mentioned was coordinating colors, as in "that blue and this brown really combinar." I will now refer to any colors that go well together with the verb "hang out." (i.e. The color of that new couch really hangs out with the carpet.) I wonder if it's fair to draw broader cultural conclusions from this linguistic oddity. Perhaps we from the Anglo-American tradition don't like to spend time together without a secondary agenda, be it drinking coffee or beer, sharing a meal, or something else. Are we too task-oriented as a culture? Does the rise of "hang out" in recent decades mean we're changing culturally? These are the questions that keep me up at night.

2. Two recent reads have brought an interesting cultural quirk to my attention. I love sports, as most of you know, and I picked up a book called Soccerhead: An Accidental Journey into the Heart of the American Game from the library on a whim (actually thanks to an Amazon.com recommendation). Jim Haner, the author and a writer for the Baltimore Sun, volunteers to coach his son's soccer team not really knowing anything about the game. The book is his story of getting sucked into a sub-culture he didn't even know existed. Besides some funny parallels to my own father's devoted coaching of my soccer teams (he was WAY more prepares than Haner, by the way), I especially enjoyed Haner's digressions into the history of Soccer in America. Like many I thought it reached its peak in the 70s with Pele and the North American Soccer League. I didn't know that there had been club soccer for a hundred years before that, and quite competitive clubs at that. In the first three decades of the 20th century clubs like Glasgow Rangers and Inter Milan took trips to America to play against teams from Northern New Jersey and New England, primarily. These were highly ethnic teams sponsored by the textile mills and factories where the players "worked." There was also a strong club tradition in St. Louis backed by the Roman Catholic church, of all institutions! In his discussion of what happened to these clubs Haner pointed to the rise of baseball and the desire for immigrants to adapt to their new country and culture. Immigrant fathers wanted their sons to fit in and be successful Americans, so they encouraged them to play "American" sports. I've also been reading Steven Jay Gould's Triumph and Tragedy in Mudville for fun (I picked it up at the library's bag of used books for $3 sale). In his introductory essay he describes his own childhood in Queens in the 40s and playing stickball. His Hungarian grandparents encouraged this for the very same reasons - to help a Hungarian Jew fit in with all the American kids. Of course, any kid in New York in the 40s and 50s would be crazy not to love baseball. One city had three of the greatest teams of all time, not to mention so many legendary players I couldn't begin to list them all here. I wonder if this type of thing happens with immigrant populations now? Are young immigrant kids playing football or basketball to fit in? Just something to think about.

on justice and war

2008-04-17T20:23:00.003+02:00

Yesterday I was reading The Four Loves by C. S. Lewis, and I ran across the following passage. I think it has some relevance to our current military situation, especially the fine distinction between a country’s just cause and the cause of justice itself.

Patriotism has, then, many faces. Those who would reject it entirely do not seem to have considered what will certainly step – has already begun to step – into its place. For a long time yet, or perhaps forever, nations will live in danger. Rulers must somehow nerve their subjects to defend them or at least to prepare for their defence. Where the sentiment of patriotism has been destroyed this can be done only by presenting every international conflict in a purely ethical light. If people will spend neither sweat nor blood for “their country” they must be made to feel that they are spending them for justice, or civilisation, or humility. This is a step down, not up. Patriotic sentiment did not of course need to disregard ethics. Good men needed to be convinced that their country’s just cause was just; but it was still their country’s cause, not the cause of justice as such. The difference seems to me important. I may without self-righteousness or hypocrisy think it just to defend my house against a burglar; but if I start pretending that I blacked his eye purely on moral grounds – wholly different to the fact that the house in question was mine – I become insufferable. The pretence that when England’s cause is just we are on England’s side – as some neutral Don Quixote might be – for that reason alone, is equally spurious. And nonsense draws evil after it. If our country’s cause is the cause of God, wars must be wars of annihilation. A false transcendence is given to things which are very much of this world.

cleveland fun

2008-04-15T23:20:00.003+02:00

A few weeks ago Mar and I got together with a few friends for dinner (from L to R: Patricia, Daniel, Barb, Trevor, Marianne, me, Emily). After a long winter spring seems to be budding here, as is our social calendar. It's nice to get out some more, barbecue a bit (veggie burgers - yummmmmm), and enjoy spending time with the good friends we have here.

As for those of you who might want to comment on the fact that this blog has basically been in hibernation for the better part of a year, you are very observant. I make no promises about this being a rejuvenation of any kind. I'm alive and doing well. Who knows if the blog will be as well.

not quite comfortable with the Mary stuff...

2007-10-24T17:48:00.000+02:00

My fellow ex-Budapester Sam alerted me to an interesting online quiz by posting his results on his blog. It came as no surprise to anyone that he was pegged as a Roman Catholic. It might come as a surprise to some that I got the same result, though I scored an equal amount of Emergent/Postmodern with my Papist portion. My first time around I whipped through the 63 questions, giving mostly gut reaction answers. The Catholics and Emergents tied for first, followed by a cluster of Reformed Evangelical, Classic Liberal, Neo orthodox, and Wesleyan. I decided it must be an aberration so I took the test again, this time more carefully considering each question. Again, the Catholics and Emergents tied for first (though my score was slightly different than the first time), followed by the Reformed and Liberal groups (no Methodists this time). I will say I felt some of the questions obviously aimed at Calvinists misrepresented the tradition. Even the Heidelberg Catechism doesn't give a straight up yes to “We are corrupt and incapable of doing any good.” It qualifies it with a big "except we are regenerated by the Spirit," if I remember right. The whole quiz obviously simplifies complex schools of thought. And, lastly, Fundamentalism came up dead last both times I took it.

life update, list style

2007-10-24T17:44:00.000+02:00

-City of residence: Cleveland, Ohio (specifically, Parma Heights)

-Number of negative myths the city has lived up to: Zero (the river is NOT on fire)

-Most enjoyable Cleveland events: Indians games at the Jake, West Side Market on Saturday mornings, The Lion King at the State Theater, Martin Sexton in a basement hole-in-the-wall bar in Cleveland Heights, the Cleveland Metroparks system, etc.

-Day job: ESL teacher at International Services Center

-Average age of students at ISC: 31 (estimate)

-Location of ISC: the heart of downtown Cleveland

-Number of nationalities of students: 20, and counting

-Length of my daily bus ride: 38 minutes each way, traffic dependent

-Reading I get done on the bus: lots

-Distance from my house to the library: one block

-Night Job: serving at Antonio’s, the local family-owned pizzeria

-Number of years Antonio’s has been open: 36

-Television star who loves Antonio’s and used our pizza boxes on his show: Drew Carey

-Number of church homes found in Cleveland: Zero (please pray for us!)

-Plan for the future we’re mulling over: me going to seminary in the fall

-Age of Kaitlin Annette, my darling neice: 3 months today!

-Date of her baptism: October 13, 2007 (she cried the whole way through it)

-Things about Budapest I miss: countless

-Things about Budapest I don’t miss: also countless

-Average number of days a week I see Marianne now: 7

-(As a reminder) Average number of days a week I saw Marianne a year ago: 0.34

one reason I haven't been blogging lately:

2007-08-17T18:24:00.000+02:00

Meet Kaitlin Annette, my neice.

loving live albums

2007-07-01T10:14:00.000+02:00

Over the next few months I'll be posting reviews of my top desert island discs in response to a delicious challenge. I'm happy to do this because I've been thinking about it for years, probably since the first time I saw "High Fidelity" (and then read the book). I made a preliminary list last night to get my mind working and it surprised me, but more on that later. Being a purist, I leave out all compilations, best-of albums, soundtracks, or mix CDs that my friends have made me (though some of them are incredibly good!). I present these in no particular order because it was hard enough to come up with the list. Ranking them is an impossibility.

I'm pretty sure I couldn't live without Live Wide Open by Martin Sexton. First, I love live albums (if it's well-recorded, of course). The dynamic interchange between performer and audience gets to the heart of music: communication. The next best thing to being there and being part of that exchange is listening in on the conversation. Because Sexton is such a talented performer the disc fairly sizzles with the electricity of the concerts. Musically, it's a terrific blend of the thoughtful reflective lyrics, rollicking guitar-driven rock, and crazy vocal improvisation that have made Sexton a college campus hit for years. I love the bluesy angst of "Freedom of the Road" juxtaposed with the genuine fun of "Ice Cream Man" or "Things You Do to Me." I further like the disc because Sexton has steadfastly refused to sign with a record company, a move he describes as "selling out." I respect how rigorously he's defended his creative independence. And finally, as Bethany said, double albums are an added bonus.

However, this is my list of desert island discs and the real reason this one makes it is personal. Thanks to my college's wonderful Student Activities Office I got to see Marty (as we called him) live twice (and he's coming back again in September). Every time I listen to the last track of Live Wide Open I picture the sold-out Fine Arts Center, quiet as a church, all the lights off except a single spot on Sexton. He moves out to the front of the stage, unplugs his guitar, steps away from the mic, and starts his trademark, soulful rendition of Amazing Grace. The acoustics of the hall carry his voice and guitar beautifully to all 1200 of us. I go to concerts for moments like that, and this disc is the closest approximation I get on a regular basis.

Stay tuned for more desert island discs...

sweet blisters on my palms

2007-06-26T15:40:00.000+02:00

Last week I saw the cows come home. I’ve played ‘til the cows come home, worked ‘til the cows come home, and even argued ‘til the cows come home, but until last week I’d never actually seen it.

School finished a week ago Friday (see my last post), and Saturday morning I took off for a week in Ozd, Romania. This village of about 200 or 250 people, tucked into a little valley in the rolling Transylvanian hills, is about as idyllic as you can imagine. I went there to visit my friends Ryan and Shannon and to join a work team from their home church in Michigan (River Terrace Church). I’m getting a bit ahead of myself, though.

The story really begins with Ryan and the Calvin College Band. When I joined that esteemed musical ensemble as a freshman I quickly befriended him (it helped we were both 3^rd Schultze men, of course). That friendship has blessed me in countless ways, from the simple (having somebody to go to church with) to the profound (having somebody to listen to me venting my existential angst), but one bond that has proved especially significant is our love of Eastern Europe. It started when we spent three weeks here touring with the band in the spring of 2002. We were tour roommates sharing in the remarkable hospitality of the Hungarian families who took us in both for that first tour and a second in the spring of 2004.

That second tour came after Ryan’s graduation, so at its end he jumped on a train back to Romania instead of a plane to America. Through our denomination's relief agency he has found a position at Bonus Pastor, a Transylvanian ministry connected to the Hungarian Reformed Church. He spent six months in Ozd while Shannon, then just his girlfriend, volunteered in Kolosvar.

In the return of seized property that had followed the Romanian government change in the early nineties the land and castle of a noble family had been returned to them. They in turn donated the property to Bonus Pastor. The ministry has big plans for the various parts of the property, and they’ve been slowly but steadily implementing them. When Ryan was there in 2004 he worked on the first phase, turning the old granary into a rehabilitation center. That work is now complete and in our visit we met the 14 guys who are currently clients there. There are also plans to turn the castle into a conference center and school of sorts. For now it’s where we got to sleep.

Being students again, Ryan and Shannon decided to spend their summer back in Romania (though it means medical and graduate school will take even longer), and part of that time in Ozd working again with Bonus Pastor. I’m so blessed to have friends who share my love for this part of the world and especially the Hungarian culture (while Ozd is in Romania all but one family in the village are ethnic Hungarians).

I headed to Ozd, not really knowing what I was going to be doing there, but having vague ideas of light construction. If you ever agree to help out with a service project, listen carefully to what you’re actually agreeing to do. When I arrived I learned our goal was to pour a little less than 275 square meters of concrete in the barnyard of the dairy farm Bonus Pastor runs. This farm is there to support the rehab center financially, to give the guys some productive work to do, and to demonstrate some modern dairy farming techniques in the hope they will rub off on local villagers.

For five days we worked hard, and it was a joy. The nightly ache of my woefully underused muscles was rewarding (and bearable, thanks to lots of ibuprofen). There were far too many highlights and funny moments to relay them all, but I will say I’m so thankful for every member of the team. I was blessed by seeing each of them contribute mightily in the ways their gifts dictated. How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity!

And, as I mentioned, I got to see the cows come home. Every morning the families open their gates and the cow herder drives the village cows out into the pasture. And then, every night at about 8:00, they come trundling home, each cow knowing exactly which gate to go into. It’s remarkable to turn the corner and see these gigantic beasts heading straight for their own home. Ok, maybe it’s not that remarkable for some of you, but for this city kid it was a sight I won’t forget (which is good because I forgot to take a photo of it).

moving on

2007-06-25T14:56:00.000+02:00

While I'm a week late (see my next post for why) I want to comment on school ending. Friday the 15th was the last day of classes, and with it came the end of my time at Kossuth. I was touched and a bit overwhelmed by the many thanks I got. I did not enjoy saying goodbye, and I earnestly hope to see many of these wonderful young people again.

As often seems the case I came to Hungary hoping to help people and do some good, but came away feeling far more helped than helpful. However many lessons I may have taught those kids, I guarantee I learned tenfold more from them. Just a few of those lessons: I learned countless things about myself and my personality (like where my breaking point is when dealing with unruly teenagers). I learned about my country and the way it’s perceived (it’s so much more complex than “they like the people, but don’t like the government”). I learned, once again, how important community is and what a blessing it can be (thank you, Tracey, Jon, Chris, and so many others). And I especially learned, as I will probably have to keep learning my whole life, that nothing, neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything in all creation can separate me from the love of God that is in Jesus Christ our Lord.

how I wish all the children were above average...

2007-06-13T14:24:00.000+02:00

Last weekend I drove out to small town of Vac. (It’s pronounced like an especially stuffy British version of “vats.”) Some of you don’t know or won’t remember that it was very nearly my home. My organization planned on sending me there, but couldn’t find a male teammate for me and (wisely) thought better of sending me there alone. Every time I go to Vac I wonder what if, but never more than this trip. Maybe it’s the nostalgic mood I’m in as I wind up my Hungarian adventure.

The reason for my trip (and the reason I got to drive there in a rental car!) was to pick up several boxes of teaching materials owned by my organization. Sadly we don’t have enough teachers for next year and Vac drew the short straw. That means we have to redistribute the stuff that’s accumulated in the flat over the years we’ve had teachers there. As fun as it was to drive up there and back (it’s been five months since I’ve driven anywhere), my real treat came when I got home. Buried in those boxes were two cassette tapes of Garrison Keillor doing the News from Lake Wobegon.

I stumbled across GK rather late in life for somebody who was raised on National Public Radio. While the “All Things Considered” jingle automatically makes me wonder what mom’s making for dinner, and “Morning Edition” is in my mind linked with scarfing down some cereal so I don’t miss the bus, A Prairie Home Companion came later. Our station in Pennsylvania didn’t broadcast it, so I had to wait until we moved to Washington to meet GK.

I had heard about him from my parents, who were fans in their pre-me days, but I was 16 and skeptical. I wasn’t sure about the folksy music (way too cheesy!), the strange “advertisements” (though ketchup won me over in the end), or the whole feel of the thing. I liked edgy stuff (so I thought), and this didn’t fit the bill. But the things I did like (and the reasons I would always suggest we tune in on the way to church Sunday morning) were Guy Noir, The Lives of the Cowboys, and News from Lake Wobegon. As I matured a bit I realized that I am, like so many in my generation, a sucker for narrative. If you want to persuade us, inspire us, sell to us, or mesmerize us, tell a story.

My parents would often lament how much funnier GK used to be, but I enjoyed his stories nonetheless. I can’t say it’s been a gaping hole in my life here, but I’ve noticed the absence of PHC. And those two things are what made finding these tapes so special. The tapes are homemade copies, but they’re labeled 1983. When I put the first one in I did a double take, because it’s the same velvety tone but the accent and delivery are very different. It’s not the smooth story-teller with a sort of general Midwestern accent that I knew. On the tape GK’s Minnesota vowels are far more pronounced (no pun intended), and he’s got that stop and start Minnesota timing that makes the pause before the punch line that much more effective. He also deals with more overtly religious themes than I can remember from the show, and quite wonderfully. The story labeled as “Father Emil’s Starry Night” is particularly poignant. My favorite, though, is definitely “Tomato Butt,” which accurately captures my entire childhood relationship with my older sisters.

Anyway, the tapes have just added another layer of what would have been if I had ended up in Vac. Maybe I would have listened to them with my classes. Maybe I would have listened to them until I had them memorized. For my year 10s’ final exam I made some of them talk to me about Frost’s “The Road Not Taken.” How often these days I think of those last two lines: “I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.”

school-leaving

2007-05-07T10:53:00.000+02:00

Today I spent the afternoon at my school’s Ballagas. For those of you unfamiliar with Hungarian schools it’s the ceremony marking the end of classes for graduating students. The word means "school-leaving." Their work isn’t done as they have a month and a half of written and oral finals to look forward to, starting on Monday. But I think it’s good they get a chance to celebrate never having to sit through a math class again (if they choose not to go that direction in university), or English class for that matter. Watching them file out of the school in a long line, singing their goodbye song I couldn’t help thinking about my own departure from Kossuth which is rapidly approaching.

I’ve decided that for now my time in Hungary has come to end. It’s very hard to say goodbye to my students and colleagues, many of whom I feel like I’m just starting to get to know. I’m sorry to leave my little congregation at St. Columba’s Scottish Presbyterian. And it’s sad I’ll be leaving this city and culture I’ve come to love. There will certainly be things I won’t miss (the “naplo” class books, Hungarian bureaucracy, and not having a clue what’s going on come to mind), but overall I’m extremely thankful for this season of my life and the opportunity to serve here.

My reasons for the decision are many. Some of you may not know that for almost a year I’ve been blessed by my relationship with a wonderful young woman (see picture). Marianne also serves with Teach Overseas, but her school is in Cheb, Cz

ech Repu

blic (a twelve hour journey from Budapest). While the distance has been good for us in some ways, we’re both very tired of the situation and feel that if this relationship is to go any farther we need to live in the same city and see each other on a daily basis. That’s the first reason for this change of scene.

The second is pretty simple: I’m homesick. I’ve always known I wasn’t a Hungarian “lifer.” While I’m returning maybe a little sooner than I expected, the return itself comes as no surprise. I miss baseball games, bookstores, good Mexican restaurants, newspapers, Bell’s Oberon and Henry’s Special Reserve, being understood, The New Yorker, and most of all my family and friends. My oldest sister is having a baby this summer – the first niece or nephew for me – and I want to be around for that. I’ve been feeling the need for a good solid dose of “home.”

The third reason has to do with my work here. I love teaching high school students because they’re full of energy and verve. But the same hormones that cause those emotions can also make them moody, sullen, and uncooperative. Going to school every day I don’t know what I’ll find, which makes me moody too! What I’m saying is I don’t think I’m cut out for this job long term. My plan has always been to go back to school so I can work with college students in some capacity. While my experience here has confirmed my desire to teach, I don’t want to teach at this level.

So what’s next? To be frank, I don’t know. I had hoped to start grad school in the fall, but that hasn’t worked out. Marianne and I are heading for either Seattle or Cleveland (her hometown), so if anybody has a lead on a job in either of those places let me know. Mar will try to find a teaching position (she majored in special ed) and I’ll look for something ministry-related but will take what I can get.

God has richly blessed my time here, so my departure, as seems so often the case, is bittersweet. When I was leaving for Budapest a friend gave me an mp3 of Sara Groves: Painting Pictures of Egypt. I listened to it a lot when I first got here, and I find myself listening to it a lot again. She says “I don’t want to leave here. I don’t want to stay. The places I long for the most are the places where I’ve been… I’ve been painting pictures of Egypt, leaving out what it lacks. The future feels so hard and I want to go back, but the places that used to fit me cannot hold the things I’ve learned.” It was so hard to leave the US before, and now it’s so hard to go back. However I feel deep-seated peace (you might say a peace I don’t even understand) and assurance that this is a right and Godly decision. Thanks for your support and friendship over the ups and downs of this two year adventure in Budapest.

Colbert in Budapest?

2007-04-18T08:58:00.000+02:00

I have a request for any Stephen Colbert fans out there (you know who you are). One of my students told me yesterday that he's planning a visit to Hungary. Needless to say, I'm intrigued. However, my initial search has turned up no information. I'm guessing it has something to do with the Megyeri Bridge, so perhaps I should explain this a bit. (Or you can read about it on Wikipedia.)

Last fall this same student asked me maybe the best question I've ever gotten in class: "Excuse, Mr. Ackerman, do you know who Stephen Coal-burt is?" "Do you mean Stephen Colbert?" "Ummm, maybe." The student went on to tell me that they were going to name the new M Zero bridge over the Danube after Colbert, and he thought the guy must be a jerk. It turns out the Hungarian government decided to choose the name for the new bridge by internet poll. Colbert made a plug on his show for the "Stephen Colbert Bridge" and his supporters soon swamped the voting. The Hungarian Ambassador made an appearance on the show and explained Colbert would have the bridge named after him on two conditions: he had to demonstrate Hungarian fluency and had to be dead. I tried to explain to my students that this was a joke, not another example of American imperialism. They seemed skeptical.

Anyway, the latest rumor is that Colbert is coming to Budapest. If anybody knows anything, please fill me in. This is something I do not want to miss!

"a grace wholly gratuitous"

2007-04-17T17:02:00.000+02:00

While watching CNN today I was reminded of one of my favorite Annie Dillard observations. Perhaps it's wrong and shallow that I often think of it in times of great tragedy, but I find it comforting.

"...Frogs were flying all around me. At the end of the island I noticed a small green frog. He was exactly half in and half out of the water, looking like a schematic diagram of an amphibian, and he didn't jump.
He didn't jump; I crept closer. At last I knelt on the island's winterkilled grass, lost, dumbstruck, staring at the frog with wide, dull eyes. And just as I looked at him, he crumpled and began to sag. The spirit vanished from his eyes as if snuffed. His skin emptied and drooped; his very skull seemed to collapse and settle like a kicked tent. He was shrinking before my eyes like a deflating football. I watched the taut, glistening skin on his shoulders ruck, and rumple, and fall. Soon, part of his skin, formless as a pricked balloon, lay in floating folds like the bright scum on top of the water: it was a monstrous and terrifying thing. The frog skin started to sink.
I had read about the giant water bug, but never seen one. "Giant water bug" is really the name of the creature, which is an enormous, brown beetle. It eats insects, tadpoles, fish, and frogs. Its grasping forelegs are mighty and hooked inward. It seizes a victim with these legs, hugs it tight, and paralyzes it with enzymes injected during a vicious bite. That one bite is the only bite it ever takes. through the puncture shoot the poisons that dissolve the victim's muscles and bones and organs - and through it the giant water bug sucks out the victim's body, reduced to a juice. This event is quite common in warm fresh water. The frog I saw was being sucked by a giant water bug. I had been kneeling on the island grass; when the unrecognizable flap of frog skin settled on the creek bottom, swaying, I stood up and brushed the knees of my pants. I couldn't catch my breath...

That it's rough and chancy out there is no surprise. Every live thing is a survivor on a kind of extended emergency bivouac. But at the same time we are also created. In the Koran, Allah asks, 'The heaven and the earth and all in between, thinkest thou I made them in jest?' It's a good question. What do we think of the created universe, spanning an unthinkable void with an unthinkable profusion of forms? Or what do we think of nothingness, those sickening reaches of time in either direction? If the giant water bug was not made in jest, was it then made in earnest? Pascal uses a nice term to describe the notion of the creator's, once having called forth the universe, turning his back to it: Deus Absconditus. Is this what we think happened?...

Cruelty is a mystery, and the waste of pain. But if we describe a world to compass these things, a world that is a long, brute game, then we bump against another mystery: the inrush of power and light, the canary that sings on the skull. Unless all ages and races of men have been deluded by the same mass hypnotist (who?), there seems to be such a thing as beauty, a grace wholly gratuitous...

We don't know what's going on here. If these tremendous events are random combinations of matter run amok, the yield of millions of monkeys at millions of typewriters, then what is it in us, hammered out of those same typewriters, that they ignite? We don't know. Our life is like a faint tracing on the surface of mystery, like the idle, curved tunnels of leaf miners on the face of a leaf. We must somehow take a wider view, look at the whole landscape, really see it, and describe what's going on here. then we can at least wail the right question into the swaddling band of darkness, or, if it comes to that, choir the proper praise."

winter

2007-02-02T17:06:00.000+01:00

It’s been a while since I blogged, so I think this will be another shot gun post describing a scattering of recent events. Since I last wrote winter arrived, and then it left again. The only snow we’ve seen this year was a light dusting that fell late Friday night, a week ago. I used to hate snow on Saturdays because of the snow day factor. Twenty four hours earlier and I might have had a three day weekend. Now, though, I prefer waking up and enjoying the view of the snow through the window as I have a leisurely breakfast. It gives me some time to mentally prepare for venturing out. And, unlike other days, I usually have the option of staying home if I want. But now we’re back to unseasonably warm weather, and that one snowfall we had didn’t even last through the morning.

Another highlight of January was a visit from some old family friends. It had been 11 or 12 years since I had last seen this couple, the parents of my childhood friend Evan, except for a brief meeting with the husband here in Budapest a year ago. He takes a group of MBA students from the University of Delaware (where he works) to Eastern Europe every year. It was a treat to see them, and not just because they spoiled me rotten! The last time they saw me I was a snot-nosed little kid who didn’t have a clue about anything, and now I’m an independent young man who doesn’t have a clue about anything. They were wonderfully inquisitive, taking a genuine interest in my school, my work, and my life in Budapest. I felt flattered by their many questions. The picture is our view of the Danube from Visegrad, the "castle on a hill" outside Budapest.

The other day I had cause to look back over the history of this blog a bit. I used to write a lot more about ideas, books, current events, and that sort of thing. Now I seem to mostly write about me and my pretty normal existence. It’s a bit depressing, I think. So, in an effort to do less of that, what’s the deal with Catcher in the Rye? I’m trying to pick a novel for one of my classes to read, and that’s one we have in our library. I picked up a copy since I had never read it, and now that I’m half way through I mostly want to punch Holden in the face for whining so much. Is that the point? Is the book supposed to be about the discontent of American youth? Is that it, or am I missing something? I may end up reading it with the class simply because we don’t have anything else. What a pity!

A more fun development at school is that I’m now one of the coaches for the school Civilization team. On a Saturday in March I’ll head to Kecskemet with another teacher and three students for a competition on the history, art, and literature of America and Britain in the 1950s, 60s, and 70s. There will be a written quiz, a three-minute prepared presentation, a verbal question and answer session, and a listening activity (my money’s on a name-that-band exercise with rock and roll from the 50s and 60s). We meet once a week to do prep sessions (I get to cover literature and pop culture while my partner in crime, Tracey, does the Cold War and Civil Rights). The kids are great and I think they’ll do really well. At the very least we’re having fun preparing!

some stuff on my mind

2007-01-13T14:01:00.000+01:00

I haven't written lately because we're nearing the end of the semester (meaning I have to turn in grades!), grad school applications have been due, and my teammates got season 2 of Lost for Christmas. However, there's a bunch of stuff I've wanted to write about and haven't. I'm going to give each of them a paragraph (instead of a full post) just so I can get them out of my system.

The Trad's Wedding: A week ago I was in Prague for one of the most interesting weddings I've been to. The bride is a Lebanese-American who taught with Teach Overseas in Prague for two years. The groom is a terrific Czech guy who speaks great English and met the bride because she taught English to his little brother (I think). The service and reception were a wonderful blend of cultures and captured many of the idiosyncrasies that makes this couple terrific. Also, the wedding fell on Epiphany, so the readings were from Isaiah 60 and Matthew 2. Themes of light and the revelation of Christ to the world permeated the service. It was a new twist on the wedding covenant (for me), asking for Christ to be revealed in their relationship.

Craziness in Federal Way: An article in the Seattle P-I tells how a father objected to the showing of An Inconvenient Truth in Federal Way schools. His rationale is that the documentary shows only one side of the story, so showing it gives students a warped perspective. The School Board agreed with him, saying global warming should be covered by their policy on "Teaching Controversial Issues." That means teachers who want to show the film must give equal time to opposing view points. I think it's great that the Board wants to show students both sides of tricky issues, but how far will this go? Do we need to start showing Birth of a Nation as an alternative to traditional American History? What about giving equal time to those who believe the moon landing was a big hoax? As much as we love equality in this country, not all ideas are equal nor do they deserve equal billing in our classrooms. The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, the American Meteorological Association, the American Geophysical Union, the American Association for the Advancement of Science, and the National Academy of Sciences agree with the basic conclusions presented in the documentary (according to the article). As a recent article in the Seattle Times by two UW atmospheric scientists points out, on global warming the scientific community is, for once, in agreement. The Federal Way School Board told teachers who have already shown the documentary that they must now show students a "credible, legitimate opposing view." Good luck with that.

Frank Luntz on "Fresh Air:" If you want to hear how the power of language impacts your daily life listen to this interview. Luntz is, for lack of a better term, a linguistic consultant. His job is to poll the public and then tell people how to communicate in a way that best sways public opinion. Anybody who has, say, done research on how the language of stewardship has impacted Christian views of environmentalism might want to give it a listen. (My favorite moment is when Luntz says, in answer to a pointed question from Terry Gross about Republicans portraying environmentalists as extreme, "What about Democrats who want to present all businessmen as evil?" She pauses for a moment and changes the subject. Way to cave, Terry! She comes back strong with the gaming vs. gambling discussion, though.)

Free Will in the New York Times: Reading a recent article in the NYT brought me back to my religion senior seminar at Calvin and our discussions of Open Theism. The author, Dennis Overbye, describes the work of some psychologists and scientists who are taking a good look at traditional "deep free will." Their studies conclude that free will is an illusion. Some of it sounds a lot like what I remember from reading Jonathan Edwards. He differentiated between Free Choice and Free Will, saying we have the former but not the later. It's sort of like saying we have the ability to choose what we want, but we don't have the ability to decide what will appeal to us, what our wants will be. One thing that is lacking from the article is a discussion of what you might call the spectrum of free will. It's not an all or nothing proposition. To use Professor Crump's example, if I'm a cow in a field with no fence I'm free to go wherever I want. If I'm that same cow in a field with a fence around me I'm not free. But, what about if I'm the cow surrounded by a fence with an open gate? I'm free, but am I as free as the cow with no fence? I wish I had a better philosophy background so I could discuss it more, but maybe one of my smart friends will take it on (Kent? Sam?).

Poetry: In several of my literature classes I've been doing units on poetry, and it's been great fun. I have smart students and seeing them sink their teeth into Frost, Hughes, Dickinson, Sandburg, Roethke, and even Donne has been a joy! When I started these units many of the students were wary of poetry. They didn't think they could handle it. However, they've shone and come up with some very creative analysis that would not have occurred to me.

where did it go?

2007-01-02T03:59:00.000+01:00

I'm parked here on the couch with my father tonight as Boise State tries to hold off Oklahoma in the Fiesta Bowl. The Broncos are inexplicably up by 14, but you get the feeling Oklahoma is eventually going to wake up and realize they're losing to a team that was Division I-AA ten years ago. Then we'll see what the Idaho underdogs are made of.

This time tomorrow I'll be somewhere over the Atlantic. I can't believe how quickly this break has gone, and how much I've enjoyed being at home. A few of the highlights:

Playing brass with my big si s in church on Christmas Eve. We've been doing this for years - since 6th/8th grade - but this was particularly special since it's been a while. (Even if our chops were pretty lousy!)

My family's Cioppino tradition! This year with fresh cod, clams, scallops, shrimp, crab, and mussels.

Spending a fun and encouraging evening in Tacoma with Shantra and Lori. (And what a view from their apartment!)

Renting and watching A Prairie Home Companion with my parents. I haven't laughed that much at a movie in a long time. Woody and John C. telling bad jokes was the cinematic highlight of the year.

Going to Bodies: The Exhibition with most of the family, especially Katherine, my sister the nurse. Fascinating!

Torrey and D.J.'s beer tasting party.

Spending New Year's Eve with Kent and Shelly starting with worship at 3rd CRC in Lynden (my grandfather's old church) where Kent delivered a fine sermon, ending with the fireworks at the Space Needle, and full of fine conversation and fun in between.

And, of course, spending New Year's Day watching the bowls with my Dad (despite our different views on the Rose Bowl), and making Oliebollen and Banket with my mom.

I hope these celebratory weeks have been relaxing and refreshing for you, as they have been for me.

shortcut

2006-12-26T17:37:00.000+01:00

I found a video demonstrating the Hungarian way to avoid traffic jams. Enjoy!

back in the USA

2006-12-23T14:03:00.000+01:00

My two favorite "Welcome back to the USA" moments (so far):

Going through US customs I go to the passport window and step up to the yellow line to wait. I'm the only one waiting when a bunch of Europeans start crowding behind me. I think I've mentioned it before that, while I love them dearly, Hungarians are simply not skilled in the art of line formation. These particular ones start playing the "I need to get my shoulder ahead of your shoulder" game when suddenly I hear a broad New York accent exclaiming, "Excuse me! Can we form a line here?" Whoever that sassy customs official is, she's now my hero.

Then, as I was buying myself one of my two "welcome back to the USA" gifts (see photo) I had to laugh at an older European couple in front of me in line. They bought two ridiculously overpriced sandwiches and a bottle of water to share, and then started to look around for a place to eat them (this particular incarnation of a certain Seattle-based national coffee chain had no tables). They finally settled on the bar where baristas deliver finished drinks to their expectant customers. The European couple unwrapped their sandwiches and started eating them with forks and knives while standing at the bar, just like an Italian espresso bar. The bewildered look on the face of the young woman making drinks was priceless.

phew

2006-12-22T06:26:00.000+01:00

The craziest week I've had in a while is finished. I write to you from Budapest Ferihegy 2B where I'm waiting for my direct flight to New York JFK. In a mere 23 and a half hours my family will be meeting me at Seatac. I'm looking forward to bonket, watching college football with my Dad, giving them their Hungarian Christmas presents, cooking with my mom and sisters, the Christmas Eve church service, seeing Kent (and hearing him preach!), and so much more. For now, though, it still hasn't sunk in. The other two big events of the week (taking the GREs and performing in Grease) are still in my mind (both went quite well, by the way), so I haven't given much thought to Christmas yet. Going home is easily the most important of the three events, but it still gets third billing for me mentally. Maybe someday I'll understand myself.

"you better shape up"

2006-12-13T15:19:00.000+01:00

I can really be a sucker sometimes. Mostly because I can't say no to my students I'll be making my Hungarian stage debut in a mere six days as Rydell High's own Coach Calhoun. The good news is I only have about 8 lines to learn. The bad news is they're in Hungarian. I have visions of delivering them and being met with the confused blank stare I know so well from class, but this time multiplied by 600. Though I'm dreading the performance, the rehearsals have been fun. I like getting to spend so much time with my students, and my expertise in matters of American culture has been valuable to the production. ("No, Peter, Kenickie can't greet Danny with a few cheek kisses.") It's surreal to see my Hungarian students trying their best to live in the world of my mother. In particular their costumes are a bit strange. I can't seem to convince them that guys in the 50s didn't wear wide checked flannel shirts, and the girls look more Cyndi Lauper than Sandra Dee (not a poodle skirt in sight). Then again, I'm not going to give myself a crew cut for authenticity. I'll just try not to fall doing my dance steps in the finale or get my tongue tangled with the Hungarian and it'll be fine.

[Ed. note: My mom forcefully objected to my description of the 50s as "the world of my mother." She's right and I apologize. She was far more "Incense and Peppermints" than "Rock Around the Clock," though in a family discussion the other night it was made clear that she wasn't a real hippie because she didn't smoke pot.]

happy new year

2006-12-04T10:12:00.000+01:00

Yesterday, as I'm sure you all noted, was the first Sunday in advent and thus the start of a new liturgical year. I was going to leap into my annual early-December diatribe about the commercialism of Christmas, the death of advent, and the widespread ignorance of the liturgical calendar (and that's just in within the church body!), but I don't think I will this year. Maybe I'm giving up the fight. Instead I think I'll go read some of those wonderful Isaiah prophecies and reflect on the hope we celebrate this season. In my favorite movie, The Shawshank Redemption, Andy makes the claim that "Hope is a good thing - maybe the best of things." If we follow the allegory through and imagine ourselves as prisoners trying to make the best of the world we live in, we can find comfort in the hope of its restoration and encouragement to struggle against conforming to the sin of this world. In the movie they call it "becoming institutionalized," and hope is what keeps it from getting the best of Andy, and especially Red. So, we hope. Maranatha, Lord Jesus!

Train Tracks

2006-11-30T13:02:00.000+01:00

In a recent post I mentioned the Mix CD Exchangaganza. Here's what I came up with, music to listen to on the train.

Josh Garrels - Restless Ones
U2 - Beautiful Day
Lynard Skynard - Sweet Home Alabama
The Eels - Rotten World Blues
Johnny Cash - Folsom Prison Blues
Martin Sexton - Freedom of the Road
Jack Johnson - Breakdown
Bonnie Summerville - Winding Road
Simon and Garfunkle - Homeward Bound
Little Feat - Oh, Atlanta
The Red Hot Chili Peppers - Road Trippin'
The Allman Brothers Band - Midnight Rider
Muddy Waters - All Night Long
Credence Clearwater Revival - Proud Mary
The Beatles - Daytripper
Coldplay - Clocks
Theivery Corporation - Lebanese Blonde
Cake - Long Line of Cars

some wisdom

2006-11-29T16:34:00.000+01:00

I just finished reading Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson, for the third time. It starts a little slow, but in the end it's got more truth in it than I know what to do with. I often read parts and thought to myself, that's something I want to share. Here are some of them:

"I am reminded of this precious instruction [when you encounter another person...you must think, what is the Lord asking of me in this moment, in this situation?] by my own great failure to live up to it recently. Calvin says somewhere that each of us is an actor on a stage and God is the audience. That metaphor has always interested me, because it makes us artists of our behavior, and the reaction of God to us might be thought of as aesthetic rather than morally judgmental in the ordinary sense. How well do we understand our role? With how much assurance do we perform it? I suppose Calvin's God was a Frenchman, just as mine is a Middle Westerner of New England extraction. Well, we all bring such light to bear on these great matters as we can. I do like Calvin's image, though, because it suggests how God might actually enjoy us. I believe we think about that far too little. It would be a way into understanding essential things, since presumably the world exists for God's enjoyment, not in any simple sense, of course, but as you enjoy the being of a child even when he is in every way a thorn in your heart." (page 124)

"A good sermon is one side of a passionate conversation. It has to be heard in that way. There are three parties to it, of course, but so are there even to the most private thought - the self that yields the thought, the self that acknowledges and in some way responds to the thought, and the Lord. That is a remarkable thing to consider." (page 44)

"I believe I have tried never to say anything Edward would have found callow or naive. That constraint has been useful to me, in my opinion. It may be a form of defensiveness, but I hope it has at least been useful on balance. There is a tendency among some religious people even to invite ridicule and to bring down on themselves an intellectual contempt which seems to me in some cases justified. Nevertheless, I would advise you against defensiveness on principle. It precludes best eventualities along with the worst. At the most basic level, it expresses a lack of faith. As I have said, the worst eventualities can have great value as experience. And often enough when we think we are protecting ourselves, we are struggling against our rescuer. I know this, I have seen the truth of it with my own eyes, though I have not myself always managed to live by it, the Good Lord knows. I truly doubt I would know how to live by it for even a day, or an hour. That is a remarkable thing to consider." (page 154)

winter blues

2006-11-20T09:07:00.000+01:00

They were putting up the Christmas lights on Andrassy this afternoon. It’s dark out now at 4:30 in the afternoon. These days I’m sleeping with two blankets and a duvet (and I’m the king of not needing blankets). I’ve started growing in my winter beard because my face is getting cold.

Winter in Budapest is long, dark, and cold, and I’m afraid it’s here. We were teased with a few warm days this weekend, but it was hard to enjoy because you get the feeling winter’s going to lay down the hammer any moment. Last year was a bit tough for me, and I think a lot of it has to do with the dark more than anything. Budapest is in the far eastern reaches of its time zone so it gets dark quite early in the evening. (How on Earth are we in the same time zone as Paris? Look on a map – we are not close! It’s silly!) This is the big change from the Michigan winters, which don’t seem so bad now (Michigan being on the far western side of its time zone). And, thanks to the worldwide conspiracy to start classes at institutions of secondary education at an absurd hour, I still sleepwalk to school through the pre-dawn darkness. It’s hard to get out of bed in the morning, and after school all I want to do is go home, put on my pajamas, and huddle under a blanket until 6:00 pm when I want to go to bed.

But this year’s going to be different. I have a plan to beat the winter blues: music and books. This started last spring when my friend Sam said, as he prepared to leave Budapest for Duke Divinity School, he regretted not getting season tickets to the Budapest Festival Orchestra while he was here. I said, that sounds like a good idea, and bought two on a whim. In hindsight it’s one of the best decisions I’ve made here. The group is outstanding (Ivan Fischer conducting), and their performance of Mahler’s 5^th Symphony was in the top five of concerts I’ve been to. And since I got two tickets I get to invite different people to go with me each time. It’s a regular night out that forces me back into the real world and buoys my spirits for days.

The concerts have rekindled my love of orchestral music and inspired me to purchase a few CDs. I picked up some old standards, Beethoven’s 5^th and 6^th performed by the Berlin Philharmonic (Herbert von Karajan conducting) , some unknown (to me) stuff by a favorite composer, Mendelssohn’s “Scottish” 3^rd Symphony and “Italian” 4^th Symphony performed by the Gewandhausorchester Leipzig (Kurt Masur conducting), and that same Mahler’s 5^th, but this time by the Vienna Philharmonic conducted by Leonard Bernstein. I’ve been listening to them all the time and they’ve been uplifting.

Later this week I will gather in Brno, Czech Republic with my Teach Overseas colleagues from all over Central Europe to celebrate Thanksgiving together. It’s a wonderful get-together because of the fellowship, relaxation, and (in large part) the food. This year we’re doing a Mix CD Exchangaganza, which means the 16 people participating will all make 15 copies of a mix CD and trade them with the other participants. So, later this week I’ll be getting 15 CDs worth of new music! Of course, it means I’ve been wracking my brain for the last month trying to craft my mix. I can’t wait!

And finally, one of the joys of teaching literature has been rediscovering some of the great stuff I teach. Watching my students encounter these characters for the first time, whether it’s Atticus Finch, Ebenezer Scrooge, or somebody in between, lets me have that experience all over again. I come home wanting to prepare lessons because I like these books so much. Now if only I could find a way to motivate myself to do the grading!

These are some of the reasons I’m optimistic about my second winter in Budapest. It’s still going to be long, cold, and very dark, but I think I’ll just put the kettle on for a cup of tea and make the best of it!

fall break

2006-11-09T17:50:00.000+01:00

I'm halfway through the first half of the year. This fall I've felt like I'm in a Star Trek episode, specifically one of those strange ones where they mess with the space-time continuum. Somehow it feels like I've been back in Budapest for about two weeks, but that it's also been about two years since I left my family and Seattle. So, what to do? Go to England, that's what. It was a great week complete with lots of laughs, a few pints at the pub, plenty of the English language (spoken, written, even sung!), many reunions with good friends, and one very difficult goodbye. A few years ago I was very blessed to spend a summer living with the most English man you could ever imagine and his wonderful wife. Tony is no longer with us, but I'm thankful I had the opportunity to know him and look forward to seeing him again someday.

free write

2006-10-04T12:39:00.000+02:00

Though I haven't been writing much lately, I've been doing a lot of thinking. I know it'll come as a surprise to some of you folks, but I do that from time to time. It's been rattling around without making much sense and I'm not sure this will be clear, but after watching an old movie tonight I feel like getting some of it out. (There I go again, starting with an apology. They tell you over and over in English Comp and Speech 101 never to begin with an apology, but I still keep doing it.)

In a recent spree of film watching I've taken in Cool Hand Luke, a new documentary called Freedom's Fury, and tonight Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (among others). Between those thoughtful films, the recent political happenings in Hungary, the struggles of my friend Hiwa, and other things I've been tossing around questions of freedom and justice a lot. Before I get ahead of myself let me tell you about Hiwa.

I met my friend through some contacts at church. A Kurdish refugee from Iran, his story is an amazing one involving a dramatic escape from Iranian authorities looking for him because of his work with the underground democratic movement. Hiwa's dream is to go to college in the USA and become a lawyer. Last year I started tutoring him once a week to help him prepare for the Test of English as a Foreign Language.

A few weeks ago I got a very excited phone call from him telling me that he had found a way to America. A Hungarian university in Budapest partners with Texas Christian to offer a five year English-language program for a BA in sociology. Students spend three years here taking English classes as well as the regular curriculum and finish with two years in Texas. Hiwa found out about this program on a Monday, visited to find out more information on Tuesday, gave them an application on Wednesday, was accepted on Friday, and started classes on Monday. In a week his entire outlook on life changed.

Then, two weeks later, the bottom of his world fell back out. The university kicked him out because he had no money to pay tuition. He was under the mistaken impression they were giving him a full scholarship. Now we're back to square one, trying to improve his writing and vocabulary enough so he can think about applying to a school in the states. It just doesn't seem fair. He doesn't have the freedom to pursue his dream because he doesn't have the money.

This was bouncing around my head when I watched Cool Hand Luke on Sunday, a movie about freedom. Paul Newman's character is a chain gang convict who refuses to let the guards control his mind and his will. His determination and fight are the only things he has left, and he uses them to subjugate the authority of the guards. The classic example is when his crew is told to tar a road, and instead of taking their time the work as hard as they can and finish the job several hours early. The guards don't know what to do so they give them a few hours off of work. Luke exercises the only bit of freedom he has by doing what the guards ask the way he wants to, and the other guys love him for it. Of course in the most poignant scene in the film, when the guards do finally break him, he calls out "Where are you now?" wondering why his compatriots have deserted him in his time of greatest need. Like Andy Dufresne in The Shawshank Redemption, Luke does the little things he can do to make himself feel normal and free, if only for a moment.

The other movie I saw this weekend was a stirring documentary about the 1956 Hungarian Olympic water polo team. I won't go into the complex details of the politics, but the short version is that three weeks before the games were to begin the Hungarians started a revolution, overthrowing the puppet Soviet government and declaring the country a democratic republic. During the brief period the Hungarians controlled the government the team left for the Olympics in Melbourne, and while they were there Soviet tanks rolled into Budapest and crushed all resistance. The twist of fate came when the USSR and Hungary drew each other for the semifinal match of the tournament. It was a rough and violent match (dubbed "the bloodiest game ever") that obviously carried great added significance. After the games finished the water polo team (along with other Hungarian athletes and many regular citizens) had to decide if they wanted to live in the once again Soviet Hungary or defect. The sacrifice they had to make for freedom - never seeing their family again, or giving up an incredibly promising water polo career because it wasn't a big sport in the US - was the most difficult part of their experience for me to imagine. (Trivia note: The documentary is narrated by Mark Spitz, whose childhood swim coach was one of the Hungarian players who defected.)

Sunday was also election day in Hungary, for the local government positions. The conservative party nearly swept the board, losing only in parts of Budapest and other major cities. This is due in part to the new fiscal reforms introduced by the liberal national government, but mostly to the scandal surrounding Prime Minister Gyurcsany Ferenc (see my recent post). Now he's called for a parliamentary vote of confidence which will be taken on Friday. He'll win easily because his party still controls the legislature, and their coalition partner hasn't dumped them yet. However, a lot of people are upset and talking about "revolution." They seem to think he should be removed for stomping on their right to know the truth with his lies.

And tonight I watched Mr. Smith, a movie that hits many of these themes and more. Naive replacement Senator Jefferson Smith goes to Washington with big ideals about what America is all about, and he gets disillusioned by the control big money has over the political process. He doesnÂt give up, though, and fights back by convincing others to return to those ideals. And what are they, the reason he gives Senator Payne to explain why "lost causes are the only ones worth fighting for?" He says it's "love thy neighbor." That's the value he's pushing.

I guess freedom is the right to do what you want to do so long as it doesn't violate the freedom of others, the point where justice comes in. According to Frank Capra and "Mr. Smith" justice means loving others, not putting yourself first. I've heard people talk about positive, restorative justice, which works to right systemic wrongs, not just prevent new ones. We must have freedom from persecution, but also freedom to follow our dreams. I'm not sure this all makes much sense (there I go with the apology again), so maybe somebody out there can tell me what I'm trying to say. What I do know is that as a creature made in God's image I have a hardwired longing and need for shalom, for peace and justice, that includes freedom for all.

liar, liar, pants on fire

2006-09-19T10:18:00.000+02:00

First of all, Budapest is not in flames. As far as I can tell the protests and demonstrations are relatively small-scale and lead primarily by more extremist elements of the population, not the majority. Most people seem upset, but not very surprised by the scandal. The problem is that the Prime Minister of Hungary lied to the people. A lot. And then he got caught on tape talking to his party members about it. I find the whole situation quite interesting because his speech was actually a call to change the way his party had been operating (as far as I can tell). He admitted that he had been lying to the people and not been doing his job so that things would change (presumably because of pressure from Brussels and the EU). Most of my students (the easiest Hungarian group for me to survey for their opinion) want him to resign, but a small number see him as somebody who was trying to stand up to the system. Anyway, the bottom line is I'm not running off to Vienna for my safety. I'll keep an eye on things, but I'm not too worried.

year two

2006-08-23T12:52:00.000+02:00

Here we go again. I'm back in Budapest with my spirits buoyed by a wonderful summer back in the States. The scariest part of the summer, though, was how much I missed Budapest! I've wisely been warned that the places I come from will never feel like home again. I've been thinking about home a lot this summer (see one of my June posts). I brought my copy of Barnes' book (Searching for Home) back with me since I didn't get to read it this summer. Maybe that'll help me better understand this feeling of "in-betweenness" I have. But now that I'm back I'm caught up in writing syllabi, organizing the Bazis (my residence), and all the other stuff of living. Year two - I'm off and running.

called out

2006-08-08T08:30:00.000+02:00

I don't play this game much, but this is one I like. So, my answers to some random questions...

One book that changed your life: A lot of books qualify (the Bible, anyone?), so I'll go for something early on and say The Grapes of Wrath. During my junior year of high school my English class read The Great Gatsby, which I had done the year before at my old high school. Ms. Sylanski let me read a novel independently and write a paper on it and I chose "The Grapes." The experience contributed to my choice of college major (English), college (Calvin), and current vocation (English teacher - thanks for remembering, Bethany).

One book you have read more than once: I guess they probably want the one you've read the most, or something like that? The Killer Angels, by Michael Shaara. It was my "home from school sick" book (and then movie, after Gettysburg came out).

One book you would want on a desert island: Raft Building for Dummies? No, probably something like The Brothers Karamazov. I've now read it twice (once in class with Ericsson!) and still don't feel like I've scratched the surface of it. Besides, it takes forever to read!

One book that made you laugh: Most recently it was The Undertaking, by Thomas Lynch. I love dark humor.

One book you wish you had written: Anything by F. Beuchner qualifies, but top choice would be Telling the Truth. It's pretty brilliant and the man can turn a phrase!

One book you wish had never been written: I'm not sure I have the right to say this since I've never read it, but my choice is Left Behind (and all the other drivel it spawned) for theological and aesthetic reasons.

One book that made you cry: Though it started slow, Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson, brought on a few tears at the end. (Your choice did too, Bethany.)

One book you are currently reading: I finished Going Nucular, by Geoffrey Nunberg, this morning, so now it's To Kill a Mockingbird (since I have to teach it in a few weeks).

One book you have been meaning to read: According to my half.com wish list, the two books I've been wanting for the longest are Lolita, by Nabakov (can't believe I still haven't read it yet), and The Atoms of Language, by Mark. C. Baker.

One book you wish everyone would read, and why: I'm stuck on this one. I guess, probably, the Bible. It's the book that has most influenced western culture, and it's a pretty good story too.

Honorable Mentions (you guess for which category): The Chosen (Chiam Potok), Master and Margarita (Mikhail Bulgakov), The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (C.S. Lewis), Walden (H. D. Thoreau), Exclusion and Embrace (Miroslav Volf), The Lord of the Rings (Tolkein), Budapest: A Critical Guide (Andras Torok), The Crucible (Arthur Miller), The Brothers K (David James Duncan), Where the Wild Things Are (Maurice Sendak)

I'm not tagging people, but I would love to hear from any and all of you with your answers.

teaching america

2006-07-30T17:31:00.000+02:00

One of my favorite classroom activities is something called a song cloze, which consists of me picking one of my favorite songs, finding the lyrics online, creating a worksheet with most of the lyrics and blanks for the rest, playing the song a few times for my class, and then discussing the new vocab and the meaning of the song. My friend Amy claims that America by Simon and Garfunkel is the greatest song for a song cloze because it can be connected to just about any lesson topic you can think of. I'm not sure I agree, but I'm not sure I disagree either. Upon hearing her make this bold claim I started to work up a lesson on it in my head. Actually, now that I'm back in the states for the summer I've been thinking a lot about how I'm going to teach differently next year. One thing I regret from my first year of teaching in Budapest is how much I relied on my own ideas and activities. My teaching was ok this year, but it would have been so much better if I'd had more conversations with Amy and other great teachers. So, in the spirit of being more collegial, anybody have some great ideas for teaching ESL or literature?

a bit of silliness

2006-07-07T00:46:00.000+02:00

My friend Sam told me about an article on pipe smoking, a pleasure he and I occasionally partake of. I guess that makes us seekers of truth, according to Michael Foley. My Dad told me about a silly mug that I might have to give him for Christmas. And there's a rather funny album that's been floating around for a year, but I was recently reminded of just how odd it is. Try listening to some of the clips; my favorite is "Jump!" Also, why didn't anybody tell me "Grey's Anatomy" was set in Seattle? I've been hearing about this show all year, but nobody thought about mentioning that? I watched the first two episodes tonight and I like it, but those scenery shots of the Emerald City... beautiful!

more sports

2006-07-04T22:25:00.000+02:00

Mark Galli has written the article I've been waiting a long time to read. In the latest issue of Books and Culture his piece, "On a Pass and a Prayer: Why we no longer believe in sports but should," lucidly explains why we need sportswriting, or what he calls "stories about the games themselves, and their heroes, when men and women act out great dramas, games of tragedy and hope, meaningful precisely because they transcend the usual social calculus."

Full disclosure: I've harbored dreams of being a writer for Sports Illustrated since I was old enough to read the magazine. I love the drama and mystery of sports, punctuated by glimpses of unmitigated grace cutting through our obsession with justice and getting what we deserve (what else can you call it when your winning goal comes from an unintentional deflection off the opposing defender?). Don't get me wrong - when my Dodgers or Nittany Lions play better than their opponents and still lose I get as mad as everybody else. But that's the nature of grace - our conceptions of justice must always be tempered by humility because God's grace means people don't always get what they deserve. As an admitted devotee of sports and sportswriting I knew I would like this article going in.

Galli works on a few important themes, starting with the idea that the often miraculous nature of sports is good for us as people who suffer from "a widespread loss of transcendence." I don't use that word miraculous lightly. It's easy to explain away just about everything, but what else do we call it when something entirely unbelievable happens? Sports is one realm where things that have absolutely no business happening take place with some regularity!

When my Dad and I watch sports we have this reccurring conversation: when the situation gets dire (down 3 games to none in a best of seven series, down 5 points with 15 seconds left and your best three-point shooter fouled out, backed up on your own 30 yard line with enough time left for just one play, etc.) Dad declares with certitude that the game is over. I predictably respond by calling him a pessimist and running down the possibilities for a comeback, far-fetched may they be. He then claims he's not a pessimist, but a realist. Of course, he's almost always right. But those exceptions (most notably the Saturday afternoon Kordell Stewart and Michael Westbrook broke hearts all over the Great Lakes State) are enough to remind me that these things do happen. In response to Al Michaels' famous question from 1980, yes, I do believe in miracles. As Christians we have to answer yes.

But sports? Aren't we getting a tad too excited about them here? Galli says it better than I can: Â"what goes on between the foul lines or end zones is real, and that the symbolic participates in a deeper reality... sports are a dimension of play, and play an expression of Sabbath, an activity that cannot have any socially useful purpose lest it become just another bit of work. Play is a celebration of the seventh day of creation, an activity in which we live out the imago Dei and create our own bounded but free worlds. Play points back to the culmination of creation and forward to the time when all existence will be nothing but a Sabbath."

If, as Galli suggests, in sports we are reflecting our creator by creating our own worlds - worlds with joy, grace, pain, miracles, and tragedy, just like our own world - sports do matter. I love trying to view social issues through the lens of sports (which Galli argues is the direction most sportswriting is going), but we can also appreciate sports and the stories of sports on their own merit. It's popular in some circles to talk about God's relationship to this world in terms of a story. I love the idea (of course I do - I'm an English major), and look for connections between our stories (in literature, film, life, and, of course, sport) and The Story. It's those connections that give the drama of sports so much value.

"the fringes of english usage"

2006-06-29T06:36:00.000+02:00

One of the joys of being back in the US has been regular access to some quality National Public Radio programming. Today, on Talk of the Nation, Neal Conan hosted a segment with three language experts (Grant Barrett - a lexicographer, Geoffrey Pullum- a linguist, and Martha Barnette - co-host of a radio show on language). The particular focus of the conversation was the internet's impact on language, though they did a fairly poor job of staying on topic. Pullum came off as a bit of a snob, and he didn't do Barrett much credit in his response on LanguageLog. I think the best part of the conversation was when Barrett and Barnette touched on the passion people feel about language. Pullum misunderstood that Barrett's encouragement to one caller to "keep fighting" was simply his way of telling her not to stop caring about language. So I echo that admonishment to you, my faithful readers.

sport preoccupation

2006-06-22T08:00:00.000+02:00

I know I've only been blogging about soccer lately, but I'm a firm believer that sport is a fascinating barometer for social trends (in addition to being a lot of fun). For example, on the New York Times World Cup blog they refer to a depressing story about how simply being a fan can be dangerous in some places. Some of my friends tell me I should stop wasting so much of my time following sports. Maybe they're right, but I know what I'll be doing tomorrow morning at 7:00 AM Pacific.

npr is the best

2006-06-20T17:08:00.000+02:00

"Dutch Fans Go Pantless Over Beer Logos"

confounded and confused

2006-06-20T07:54:00.000+02:00

Yesterday I got to worship at Sanctuary, the church my sister and brother-in-law attend. I've been there several times and I know a handful of people there. We were a little late getting there (I made my parents wait until halftime of the Australia-Brazil match before we could leave), but the service hadn't started. We parked across the street and as we walked over we heard a hearty yell. The pastor, Randy, called out, "Hey! You're not supposed to be here - you're supposed to be in Europe!" He greeted me with a warm hug, which was followed by another from the worship leader, Pete. We quickly found some seats as Randy greeted the congregation and Pete asked us to stand.

Then, in one of those "is this really happening" moments, I heard the first few chords of the opening song, and I didn't know whether to laugh, cry, shout for joy, or collapse out of sheer emotional exhaustion. It was a song written by my friend Ron that has a great deal of meaning for me. As I sang it lustily I was filled with gratitude (because I was once again worshipping with a community I knew and understood), sadness (because I miss the people I shared that sang with at Calvin), joy (because this song, of all they could have chosen, was the one that welcomed me back to the States), and many other emotions.

The song was a microcosm for the rest of the service. We did many things that seem as familiar to me as breathing, said words I've repeated countless times (Heidelberg Catechism Q&A 1!), and sang songs that are a part of me to my very core (Praise to the Lord the Almighty, God be merciful to me, I could sing of your love forever, even the doxology!). Yet, I hadn't had the chance to do any of those things in corporate worship in almost a year. Yes, my church in Budapest is wonderful and I'm not complaining about it. However, Sanctuary is part of the same tradition I am. It feels like home to me in a way that I don't think my little Scottish Presbyterian church ever will.

At church yesterday I was incredibly grateful for this sense of community and place, but the more I think about it the more I'm confused by it. Is this a good thing? Am I somehow reinforcing the division in the body of Christ by acknowledging these feelings? I want to go back and read M. Craig Barnes' Searching for Home again, because I think he gets at this idea. It's especially strange because I've been so frustrated at this very same tradition lately. Mary and the smart people who comment on her blog (she's smart too, incidentally) have had an interesting discussion of the issue, so I won't add to it. I will say, though, that despite many people from my denomination's inherently flawed approach to scripture I love this tradition of which I'm a part. Even though some of my brothers and sisters may find me more worthy of being a denominational leader simply because I have only one X chromosome, they are still my brothers and sisters. For better or worse they are my community, the group that defines home for me. Now the question is... which one is it? For better or worse?

monday morning... midfielder?

2006-06-19T19:52:00.000+02:00

My World Cup addiction started in 1994. That was the year the world's best invaded the United States and everybody was talking about Thomas Brolin, Gheorghe Hagi, Hristo Stoitchkov, Romario, and Roberto Baggio. Or at least I imagine everybody was. You see I wasn't in the States in June of '94 - my family was taking advantage of my Dad's sabbatical by spending six months in Australia. While I was disappointed about missing the chance to go to a match, I couldn't really complain. I was in Australia, after all! My solution was to get up at 5:00 every morning to watch a match and a half before school every day. I fell for the passion of the Nigerians, the professionalism of the Swedes, the precision of the Dutch, and (of course) the underdog determination of the Americans. And the great matches... Italy v. Ireland, The US v. Brazil (an overtime match that my mom, bless her, let me skip school to finish watching) , Brazil v. Holland, Bulgaria v. Germany, and Brazil over Italy in the final.

It was all over for me - I was hooked. But while I was overseas for my formative world cup experience, this year was my first chance to enjoy the world cup while living in a real soccer crazy country. You can walk down the Vaci Utca in Budapest and literally not miss a minute of play because every cafe and restaurant has the match playing. Little coffee shops who look like they're barely scraping by suddenly have 64 inch plasma screens hanging up outside! Last week the Czechs embarassed the US, while I watched on a giant screen in the main square of Budapest with hundreds of other people. My students could talk about nothing else the next day.

I've just spent the morning watching Andrei Shevchenko remind the world he's one of the best in the world and can carry the Ukraine to the second round by himself if he has to. With all the color, pageantry, and excitment of the players and fans, it's the most exciting sporting event in the world (with apologies to March Madness). I can't wait for the knock out rounds!

reflections at 34,000 feet (or 10,363 meters)

2006-06-19T19:28:00.000+02:00

[editor's note: this post was written on Friday, June 16]

I love flying. I know the seats are small, the food is bad, the company can be strange, and it’s terrible for the environment, but having twelve hours during which it’s literally impossible for me to be always doing something or always going somewhere isn’t such a bad thing. Lufthansa, whose fine service I’m enjoying, now has wireless internet on its flights (for a small fee), but I’m resisting the urge. In a few hours I’ll really want to know how the soccer is going, but even that can wait until I get to LA. I’m cut off from the world by 6 miles of air, and it’s finally given me the chance to reflect on a few things.

My music choice at the moment is “Hit the Road, Jack” by Ray Charles. There’s no better song for making an exit, and that’s what I’m doing. Yesterday I finished my first year at Kossuth Lajos Muszaki Kettannyelvu Szakkozepiskola (and that’s the first time I’ve gotten the entire name of the school down from memory!). I’ll be back next year, of course, but for now I’m heading back to the world of baseball games, good Mexican food, Mom’s home cooking, and English! I don’t know what I’m going to do when confronted with the reality that I can understand everybody around me and they can understand me right back.

I don’t know how I’ll respond to what some call reverse culture shock, and from what people tell me I won’t even be consistent in my response. The same grocery store that I love one day because I have so many choices might be debilitatingly overwhelming the next. So, for those of you who will see me soon, please have patience! But enough of that for now – I’m going home and I couldn’t be more excited.

The last few weeks have been overwhelming in their own right. You may have noticed that the frequency of posts on this site has dwindled. I remember teachers telling me they looked forward to the end of the school year as much as we students did. I never believed them, and I was right. Now I know teachers look forward to the end of the year even more than their students do! As a student I just had to worry about my own exams and final projects. Now I have to create fair evaluations that allow my students to demonstrate their abilities. Then I have to be as objective as I can in administering those tests and grading those assignments. And finally, because of the way the education system here works, I have to prove to my administration that my appraisals are fair and valid. Then multiply that process by 110 (the number of students I teach).

I hope this doesn’t sound too much like whining. Even though I’m thrilled all that stuff is finished I know my students deserve nothing less. They (or rather most of them) have worked hard all year and need to be able to demonstrate that. Of course, that’s why it kills me when a good student walks into an oral exam and gets flustered by the first curve ball we throw and falls apart. Suddenly he or she can’t even remember how to conjugate “to be” when yesterday she/he was tossing around conditional progressives like a pro. Amid all the end of the year evaluations I also got to pass out my summer reading assignments. Yes, next year I’ll get to teach American and British literature in addition to English language classes. One of the summer tasks I’m most looking forward to is creating the syllabi – any suggestions?

As I look back on the year I’m thankful for how well things have gone in the classroom. My students were almost always hard working and diligent, and I think they learned a lot. I haven’t read their course evaluations yet, but I think they liked me a bit too! We had a great turnout for our end of the year cook out, and I was reminded how much I enjoy just hanging out with these kids (even when they're positively schooling me at soccer). I couldn't ask for any better students for a first year of teaching. I think I'll probably be posting a bit more on the transition as I adjust. Only six hours until I land in LA - I wonder what I'll think!

some randomness

2006-05-25T19:58:00.000+02:00

It's been a busy few weeks and I haven't posted in a while. It's hard to believe I'll be heading for the USA three weeks from tomorrow. Year one of my great Hungarian adventure flew by! I've been reading The Ragamuffin Gospel, by Brennan Manning, and he quotes Robert Capon saying this:

"The Reformation was a time when men went blind, staggering drunk because they had discovered, in the dusty basement of late medievalism, a whole cellarful of fifteen-hundred-year-old, two hundred proof grace - of bottle after bottle of pure distillate of Scripture, one sip of which would convince anyone that God saves us single-handedly. The word of the Gospel - after all those centuries of trying to lift yourself into heaven by worrying about the perfection of your bootstraps - suddenly turned out to be a flat announcement that the saved were home before they started... Grace has to be drunk straight: no water, no ice, and certainly no ginger ale; neither goodness, nor badness, nor the flowers that bloom in the spring of super spirituality could be allowed to enter into the case."

I liked the imagery.

Also, I recently codified my thoughts on chick flicks and a friend suggested I put them on my blog. There are eight requirements any romantic comedy must fulfill for me to judge it a good chick flick.

1) There must be something unique about the setting, concept, or idea of the film. Somebody can say "the film with the X" or "the one about an X" and know which movie you mean. For example, "the movie about the American movie star and the English bookshop guy" is obvious, but "the one about Cinderella" is not.

2) There has to be SOMETHING unpredictable in the movie. If I can tell you every major plot development after seeing the first five minutes of the film we're in trouble.

3) Dialogue, dialogue, dialogue! Chick flicks live and die by the realism and wittiness of their dialogue. If it's cheesy and trite they're awful, but snappy banter can save even a lukewarm plot.

4) It has to have realistic characters - none of those flat, one-sided, all-we-know-about-them-is-the-love-story characters, please. I want real people with real quirks and real emotional responses to real problems. I know realism isn't a hallmark of these films, and I'm not asking for every situation to be realistic (see number 1). However, given a few stretches for us to believe, the rest should be easy to accept. For example, when we believe that a rich businessman is willing to spend loads of money to hire one hooker for a whole week, it's not that difficult to imagine her slowly using the money to transform herself into a more refined woman.

5) It must have a good soundtrack. This is the most underrated part of a chick flick, but it's vital. These are movies about emotion and if the music doesn't set the right emotional tone you're sunk.

6) It has to have at least one pantheon-level repeatable line. There should be one that brings the film to mind whenever you hear it, regardless of context. In fact this is a good rule for almost all genres of movies.

7) They have to throw the guys a bone. It doesn't need to be something big, but few small "guy" moments in the film are must! Examples are the whole "Brooks Robinson is the greatest third baseman ever" subplot in Sleepless in Seattle, or the "Dirty Dozen" scene at the dinner table in that film (which I think is the single greatest guy moment in a chick flick).

and 8)... actually, I forget number 8. I'm sure it was something good. It's not a closed list - I take suggestions. Now you can decide for yourself if a chick flick passes the test. I've used a few of my favorites as examples (though I don't know if Pretty Woman is really a favorite of mine), but the archetypal chick flick is, and always will be, Casablanca.

crossing the abyss

2006-05-09T14:33:00.000+02:00

I'm blessed to have a lot of really smart friends (see the links on my sidebar!). Another one has started a blog that I imagine will be some very interesting reading. She's just getting started, so welcome to the blogosphere, Jackie!

a trip to the embassy

2006-05-05T17:09:00.000+02:00

Today I went to the US embassy for the first time, and it was an eye-opening experience. Let me first say, I was looking forward to this. I've seen enough spy movies with Americans diving into the embassy and safety at the last possible moment to be childishly excited by going there. As I walked in (through a massive security checkpoint where they took my computer for the duration of my visit) I imagined Matt Damon as Jason Bourne dodging through the building, trying to catch bad guys or something. I went to get some more pages put in my passport (it's full - how cool is that!) so I can go to the Belvedere Art Museum in Vienna in a couple weeks.

It was fairly busy, so I got to watch a few Hungarian people go through the security line in front of me. The guard was brusque and efficient with them, but when he heard my accent-less English he broke into a wide smile and started chatting amicably with me. He asked me where I was from, why I was in Budapest, and the other standard questions (as he took away my beloved laptop, probably to put some sort of spy tracking device in it...). It felt really good to be treated nicely.

In the waiting room they have a machine that gives you a number depending on which button you push. There were about two dozen people waiting, so I pressed the "US Citizen" button and settled into a comfy chair with my book (Open Heart by Frederick Buechner). Much to my surprise, I got to read all of about a paragraph before my number was called. When I got to the window I asked if there hadn't been some mistake. I was assured that all those people were Hungarians there to apply for visas, and I didn't have to wait for them. Again, it felt good to be kind of special, but also awkward.

I guess you can argue that, as an American, it's my embassy and I should be treated that way. However, that's the attitude of entitlement that really angers me about so many Americans. I wanted to say something - but how do you complain about something like that? So I leave it for you to decide for yourself. Maybe this is a symptom of a larger ideological problem. Or maybe I'm just overly sensitive.

grace

2006-04-28T21:37:00.000+02:00

I made two of my classes listen to one of my favorite songs today, U2's "Grace." We do "listening activities" with songs a lot, but the best part is the inevitable "what does it mean" question that follows the listening. We got to talk about how an oyster turning a painful grain of sand into a pearl is a wonderful example of grace. We discussed karma and reincarnation. And there was a moment when one of my students said, "Grace is hard because it makes me feel guilty." In a phrase he summarized one of the great struggles of my life. It reminded me why I'm really glad to be a teacher. Here's the song:

Grace
She takes the blame
She covers the shame
Removes the stain
It could be her name

Grace
It's a name for a girl
It's also a thought that
Changed the world

And when she walks on the street
You can hear the strings
Grace finds goodness
In everything

Grace
She's got the walk
Not on a ramp or on chalk
She's got the time to talk

She travels outside
Of karma, karma
She travels outside
Of karma

When she goes to work
You can hear the strings
Grace finds beauty
In everything

Grace
She carries a world on her hips
No champagne flute for her lips
No twirls or skips
Between her fingertips

She carries a pearl
In perfect condition
What once was hurt
What once was friction
What left a mark
No longer stings

Because grace makes beauty
Out of ugly things

Grace finds beauty
In everything

Grace find goodness
In everything

csiga

2006-04-28T20:23:00.000+02:00

Now that it's warm out every morning I'm greeted by at least two dozen prime examples of one of the world's coolest creatures on my way to school. I love snails! Did you know they actually have teeth - lots of them? They use them like a file, and they're strong enough to chew through limestone! And they move on that slimy mucous, which is amazing stuff. They also use it to clog up the hole in their shell when they hibernate (leaving a tiny hole for breathing), and it's so gooey it protects them from sharp things on the ground. They also secrete it when something tried to eat them (like a frog) so instead of a yummy snail they get a mouthful of goo.

two wheels are better than four

2006-04-22T17:49:00.000+02:00

This evening, as I was riding a tram into the center of the city, I was surpriused to see something I saw on the last Friday of every month in Grand Rapids: hundreds of bicycles filling the road. Critical Mass has reached Budapest! I wish I had a bike here so I could have joined in.

some more books

2006-04-22T17:37:00.000+02:00

One of my favorite vacation pleasures is sinking into a good book, so last week I often found myself enjoying the spring sunshine, a cup of coffee, and the current paperback at a café. Specifically, I tackled The French Lieutenant’s Woman, by John Fowles, and A Prayer for Owen Meany, by John Irving. The first is a thoughtful investigation of the Victorian period, specifically Victorian sexuality, written from the perspective of the 1960s. The story and commentary were interesting enough – I still don’t know what to make of the Victorians – but the most interesting parts were the points were Fowles would insert himself, the author, into his own story. He frequently discusses the typical conventions of Victorian novels, and the nature of the writing process. I think if I ever write a novel I’ll have a hard time keeping myself from making the same sort of interjections. Authors often say the characters they’ve created take on a will of their own, which is something I’ve never really understood. Fowles comes the closest, however, to making it clear.

As for Owen Meany, he’s one of the most unforgettable characters I’ve ever read. Irving creates someone so original that as I read I kept thinking it would be impossible to make the book into a movie because nobody could play Owen. My only criticism is Irving’s foreshadowing, which is about as subtle as a brick to the face. I love the tough questions the book asks about faith and belief, especially since Irving leaves so many open ended. Even now, a week after finishing it, I find myself reevaluating Owen’s convictions in my fleeting daydreaming moments. As sure as I am that God doesn’t work the way Owen thinks he does, it has a certain appeal to it. Deep down, I want faith like Owen’s, even though I know it’s misguided. I know this doesn’t make much sense to those of you who haven’t read the book, so go out and read it and then comment on my blog! My only criticism is Irving’s foreshadowing, which is about as subtle as a brick to the face.

vive la france

2006-04-22T17:29:00.000+02:00

I’ve had a lot of things rolling around my head lately, but not a lot of time to make enough sense of them to share. This was directly connected to my Easter break travels to Barcelona and southwestern France. I was able to hang out with my old 3^rd Schultze bro, Sam Schoofs, and enjoy his wonderful hospitality. Instead of writing a lot here I decided to simply upload the journal entries I made during the trip. It’s kind of a lot, so consider yourself forewarned! I’ve also posted some pictures.

woof!

2006-04-10T10:05:00.000+02:00

This morning I dashed out the door of our building because I woke up a little late and I nearly stepped on... a puppy! I live at one of the buildings of my school, and it's kind of like a small compound. We have a nice 6 foot fence with barbed wire at the top - haven't figured out if that's to keep intruders out or students in. Bobak, the manager of the base (as we affectionately call it), decided it would be a good idea to get a dog to bolster security. Of course, he picked an incredibly cute and friendly beagle/collie mix. We're trying to think of a suitable Hungarian name for him - any ideas?

under the frog

2006-04-03T09:41:00.000+02:00

I've started a new book: Under the Frog by Tibor Fischer. It's the story of two young basketball players and the 1956 Hungarian revolution. Perhaps I'll write more about it when I finish, but one of the early chapters contained a wonderful description of the hospitality you encounter in the Hungarian countryside. It is 1949 and our hero, Gyuri, has just arrived in the tiny village of Halas where he is treated as an honored guest. When I read this I'm transported back to my first visits to Hungary with Calvin College, and the families who treated us so well.

"The scale and ferocity of peasant cuisine could be overpowering if you were out of training. Gyuri knew how the breakfasts alone could put feeble urban dwellers in hospital. At Erdovaros, the summer he was thirteen, when Gyuri had been entrusted to one of the local families, they poured him a generous palinka [brandy] for breakfast along with a brick of fat [lard] garnished with a dash of paprika. Thinking well of their liberality, he drank the palinka before walking out the door into the ground. It had taken his legs hours to remember how to walk but his stomach only a few moments to evict the solid elements of his meal. That sort of morning fuelling was tolerable only if you had grown up on it and if you had a day in a field ahead of you. Even as an atheletic thirteen year-old, harvesting for an hour had given him so much pain in so many places that all he could do was lie in the field and pray for an ambulance, while the heavily pregnant woman who had been working alongside him kindly offered to go and get him a drink.

The hospitality was unleashed straight away. Gyuri hadn't seen so much food, so much good food since the point when the war had got noticebly war-like, and it was quite possible that he had never seen that much food in an enclosed space ever before. The depressing thing was that he wouldn't be able to make up for five years' going hungry in one evening, however hard he tried. Even the expansive Neumann was looking awed by the food, since people had unmistakable designs of inflicting several sevings on them. If Gyuri tried to slow down his consumption, the villagers who had appointed themselves his personal troop of waiters would hover around and if he ate up, the consumed items would be swiftly replaced. Within half an hour of mastication commencing, Gyuri was seriously worried about parting company with consciousness: surrounding his enourmous plate, which had grown a stalagmite of sausage, cured pork, pig cheese and boxing-glove-sized chunks of bread, were two glasses of wine, one red, one white, two glasses of palinka, apricot and pear, and two glasses of beer in case he got thirsty. Behind him he could hear enraged villagers fighting to get to his side so they could pour out more of their pressings and distillations."

new look (and title)

2006-03-31T17:22:00.000+02:00

I thought a change of pace was in order for this little corner of cyberspace. Perhaps I'll return to the old title eventually, but for now I wanted to refocus myself a little bit on something I've been struggling with for a long time: the balance between pride and humility. It's important to remember that humility isn't thinking you can't do anything. Instead it's the knowledge that we can do all things in Christ, not in our own strength. The new title comes from the great hymn in Philipians 2:

Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:
6Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
7but made himself nothing,
taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
8And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to death—
even death on a cross!
9Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
and gave him the name that is above every name,
10that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
11and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father. (NIV)

The quote comes from The Gulag Archipelago, by Aleksandr I. Solzhenitsyn. Here was a man who had seen the very worst of humanity, yet he would not offer a blanket condemnation. He recognized that even his tormentors were made in the image of God, and consequently could not be called evil. If only we could all be that humble when we consider our enemies!

some reviews

2006-03-31T16:35:00.000+02:00

I've been indulging in the popular culture lately, and I thought I would share a few things with my faithful readers. I just finished two books, one that took my two months to read and one that took me two days. The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, by William L. Shirer, is an incredibly informative and sobering read. Shirer and his CBS Radio colleague Edward R. Murrow were the voice of World War II for most Americans, and Shirer's firsthand observations of pre-1942 Germany and Berlin are fascinating. He diligently chronicles the twists and turns Hitler took on his way to power, and then shows how megalomania gradually took over the dictator and insured his demise. I came away from the book with several key observations: First, Hitler never told the truth, but people inherently trusted him. For some reason he could make people believe what he was saying, which enabled him to dupe all of Europe from Chamberlain to Stalin. Also, Hitler could have been stopped quite early on without much use of force. The first time he seized land outside Germany's borders was the Ruhr region of France, which was a violation of the Treaty of Versailles. At that time Germany's military position was so weak that any show of strength by the French would have caused Hitler's seizure to fail and almost certainly his government to fall. It took years for Germany to build up the strength it needed to start an open war, and at any point during that time the Allies would have been justified (according to the Treaty of Versailles) in stopping him. Nobody did. The greater evil is so often that good people simply sit back and do nothing. And finally, Hitler's knack for seizing the right opportunity at the right time during his rise to power was uncanny. Only when he had already gained supremacy in Europe did he start to make mistakes in his judgments of how foreign governments would react to him. This is an incredibly well-written book, and at nearly 1200 pages it needs to be to keep a reader going. Shirer focuses on the characters of Nazi Germany, which brings the history to life. Only in the diplomatic details of Germany's relationship with the USSR does he really get bogged down, but otherwise this is a comprehensive and fascinating history of the Nazi party and their twelve infamous years of power in Germany.

The second book, Malcolm Gladwell's The Tipping Point, applies the concepts of epidemiology to societal phenomenon in a fascinating way. Gladwell observes that often a very small thing has a very dramatic impact on a product, idea, or condition in society, and he goes into great deal describing and analyzing this. He explains the phenomenon in three ways, focusing on the power of a small group of people to change society (the messengers), the staying power -stickiness, he calls it- of certain ideas (the message), and the environment where the idea emerges (the context of the message). The first thing to notice about this book is that Gladwell writes nearly flawless prose. It's effortless to read, but not like Harry Potter is effortless. Gladwell simply doesn't have those clunker sentences writers try to avoid because he describes difficult ideas with amazing clarity and elegance (The New Yorker didn't hire him for nothing). Second, the idea behind this book is just plain interesting. I've always been interested in culture and the way people work, but this takes it to a new level, challenging very basic assumptions in entirely persuasive ways. And that brings me to a third point: the book is impeccably researched. He documents every point so well that I never doubted his conclusions (and I'm normally a "suspicious" reader). He has wonderful illustrations and examples, both quantitative and qualitative. I'm so hooked I started browsing his web site and found several very interesting articles I hope to post about soon.

This week the Titanic 13 Film Festival started here in Budapest. I'm pretty excited because I've never lived in a big city that had a proper independent film festival. Calvin did a great job of showing some, but they simply didn't have the resources for something like this. Last night I saw "Green Street Hooligans," starring Elijah Wood. It's the story of a nerdy American kid who gets booted from Harvard, and ends up falling in with a gang of British football hooligans who support West Ham United. I was really impressed with the way the movie portrayed this kid's struggle between the need for acceptance and respect and his non-violent background. It doesn't glorify the violence (of which there is a lot, by the way), nor does it offer a blanket condemnation of the hooligan culture. The most powerful character is Pete, a History and PE teacher by day and the leader of the gang of hooligans by night. Everyone in the gang balances two lives, but none so poignantly as him. I highly recommend the film, but it is high on the violence and bad language.

can't be...

2006-03-21T21:12:00.000+01:00

My Dad is a fairly decent atmospheric scientist, or so I'm told. Yet, when he sent me a link to some pictures recently, I thought they were fake. He assures me they're not. I still don't know if I believe him.

response to a letter from a six year old

2006-03-16T19:51:00.000+01:00

Dear Hannah,
Thanks for your letter! It's always exciting to get messages from friends back in the United States! Did you know I used to do Awanas, a long time ago before I moved to Washington? I'll try to answer as many of your questions as I can!

I like it a lot here in Hungary. I really like the food, especially some of the sweet goodies. My favorite is something called Turos Taska. It's a pastry with something like sweet spicy cottage cheese inside, sometimes with raisins.

Another popular pastry is Meggyes Retes, or sour cherry strudel.

They have a special market they open around Christmas and Easter, and besides all the booths that sell hand crafts, wood carvings, and all that, they have places to get food. I always get Kürtőskalács. It's very tasty, and they make it right there in front of you!

If people want to get something quick in Hungary sometimes they will have a hamburger (we have McDonalds and Burger King here), but they might get a gyro instead. The person working will take a giant knife and slice some meat off the rotating cooker, and then put it in pita bread with come vegetables and sauce. It's Greek food, but Hungarians like it a lot!

The most famous Hungarian food is Gulyas Soup. It's a spicy beef soup with potatoes, vegetables, and hom emade nood les in it. Gulyas is made with paprika, a well-known Hungarian spice that your mom probably has in her cupboard!

Lots of Hungarians really like paprika, and the simple dish of chicken with paprika is very popular too.

I take Hungarian language lessons once a week, and my teacher is very nice. It's hard (much harder than learning Spanish!), but I get to practice a lot. My students like to teach me Hungarian in class too, sometimes. They think it's funny when I try to say things because I'm not very good yet. My students are very smart and speak a lot of English already. Some of them didn't speak any at the beginning of the year. That was hard because I had to act things out, sort of like charades. Now they know a lot, and I don't have to act things out much anymore. Sometimes they still speak in Hungarian and I have to tell them to speak in English so I can understand them. They get in trouble if they speak too much Hungarian! Mostly they are a lot like you and your brothers and sisters. They like to play sports and video games. They ride bikes and go fishing. They don't always like to do their homework, but they're always fun to be around. My favorite thing we did in class was reading The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe together. I even made them act out important parts of the book! And yes, we talk about Jesus in class sometimes. My students know that my faith is something that's very important to me, and when we talk about ourselves, what we like, or even what we did on the weekend, it comes up in conversation. Sometimes it's hard because I just want to be friends with my students, but I have to be their teacher too. It would be nice if I could just sit and talk with them in English every day, but I have important things to teach them (like grammar!) so I try to make it as fun as I can.

Thanks again for writing to me, Hannah. It made me very happy to hear from you. Say hello to your Dad, your Mom, Laura, Tim, and Katie for me. I will be back in Washington this summer, and I'll be sure to come over to your house and show you pictures sometime!

yours,
Matt

my smart brother

2006-03-16T19:42:00.000+01:00

I don't have a brother. I do have two brother-in-laws, and they're both engineers. They're both smart. One of them, Steve, is so smart that they wrote an article about his company in the local paper. He doesn't show up until the last paragraph, and they got his info wrong, but I'm still proud of him. Also, he came to Budpest to visit me a week ago!

mini vacation

2006-03-13T09:19:00.000+01:00

March 15 (Wednesday) is a national holiday in Hungary. It celebrates the 1848 Hungarian rebellion against the Austrian Hapsburg Empire. In honor of the day we have no school today, tomorrow, and Wednesday (though we had school on Saturday to get that third day off), and so I’m celebrating by going to Vienna. On the way I’ve stopped in Bratislava (which is now forever etched in my mind as the city of unceasing wind). I was able to worship at a new English-speaking church plant last night, The Well. It was an eclectic service featuring two Taize refrains, two hymns, two Chris Tomlin songs, two “meditation areas” with lots of icons, two minutes (or more) of quiet time to meditate on scripture (leccio divina), and two former members of the pastoral staff at Church of the Open Door in Twin Cities, MN (one a professional musician and the other a former baseball player). Needless to say, I loved it.

My destination in Vienna is primarily the Kunshistoriche (Museum of Fine Art). I’ve read that it has a collection rivaling the Louver and the British National Gallery, with especially good examples of the 16th and 17th century Dutch and Flemish painters (Peter Paul Ruebens, Rembrandt, Van Dyke, Ver Meer, and others). I’m especially fond of their realistic approach to the human form (warts, wrinkles, love handles, and all), as opposed to the contemporary Italians (Titian, Caravaggio, etc.) who seemed only interested in creating perfect humans. I haven’t done much (any) art museuming in Europe, mainly because I’ve been intimidated. My plan on Wednesday is to go with those paintings specifically in mind, spend some time with them, try to get background info on them (audioguide, here I come!), and merely peruse the rest of the collection. Let’s hope I can become a true art connoisseur during my time in Europe!

lenten questions

2006-03-11T16:29:00.000+01:00

My church is doing a weekly bible study during lent that focuses on the question, who is Jesus? In our first meeting we were given these questions to get us thinking a bit:

Do you think that Jesus was ever truly tempted to go against the will of God?
Do you believe that Jesus thought the world was flat?
Do you think Jesus understood the internet?
Which do you think is more important: 1) recognizing that Jesus was more than a teacher, or 2) living by his teachings?
Which more nearly expresses your conviction about Jesus: 1) He was a Godly man, 2) He was a manly God, 3) He was God and man, 4) I haven’t a clue.
The Nicene Creed(AD 325) declares that Jesus is “very God and very man.” Does this suggest that while the Christ “became flesh” and lived within a human body; at the same time he always thought the thoughts of God?
Do you think that the “soul” of Jesus died as well as his body when he was crucified?

not a sexist?

2006-03-08T17:01:00.000+01:00

So I've been told that it's blog against sexism day. To this I respond, "I'm against sexism and I blog - perfect!" One particular area where sexism gets to me is the intersection of gender and language, genderlects. Although this is a notoriously difficult area of linguistic research, a lot has been done in the last 35 years to investigate how and why men and women communicate differently. In 1973 Robin Lakoff published Language and Woman's Place, citing studies in which men interrupted women more, speak more than women, choose conversational topics more than women, and generally dominate conversation more. Lakoff's explanation was that these were societally conditioned behaviors based on the training we receive as children (girls to be polite and accepting, boys to be competitive).

Then there's Deborah Tannen, a current scholar, who focuses on the differences between male and female communication styles, and claims that neither is inherently better or worse. She describes males as conversational status-seekers and females as conversational connection-seekers. She uses similar evidence to Lakoff and adds that men tend to tell more stories and jokes in conversation (usually about themselves), women ask more questions in conversations, and women seek to avoid conflict where men pursue it. Tannen avoids making judgments on why these differences arise, acknowledging only that socialization plays a large role in their development.

I'm not sure where I stand on this, but I know we should be talking about where these differences come from and what they mean. Intuitively, I want to say that women and men are simply created differently, but that's the dreamer in me coming out. We live in a society that tells men they need to be as big, tough, strong, and independent as they can be (anybody who doubts that should check out the work of William Pollack). This same society tells women they need to be an innocent, submissive damsel in distress (and simultaneously a temptress, but that's another discussion). You can't tell me that doesn't impact the way we communicate. Perhaps, as Tannen says, we just communicate differently and one way is no inherently better or worse than the other. I'm a bit more inclined to think the worst though.

cell culture (part two)

2006-03-01T16:09:00.000+01:00

Today is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent. I've shared my love of Epiphany, but Lent is the liturgical season that really gets me. Maybe it's because I'm a softie at heart and I love the melancholy, or maybe I just like the reflecting part of it, analyzing my life and striving to live my faith more intentionally. Somebody recently asked me what Lent was all about and I didn't have a good succinct answer. Traditionally it's the period of time used to prepare new converts for baptism by educating them in the basics of the faith (catechesis), and that's become a general period of growth, self-reflection, renewed dedication, and purification.

After recently reflecting on cell phones and my own cell usage, I've decided to fast from my cell for Lent. Since it is my only phone there will be exceptions covered by a few ground rules (I get to use my phone on from 7 to 8 every night to check messages and take care of any calls for the day, if somebody calls me over and over and over again I'll answer because it's probably an emergency or something, and I'll use it if I need to call in sick). I think it'll be a difficult but very healthy exercise for me. I want to change the way I think about time, and this is a good first step. My cell has become a crutch I lean on when I am not content to simply allow time to pass by. Maybe this will break that habit.

There are a few side effects that I'm anticipating. First, my cell is also my watch, so by leaving it buried in the bottom of my bag I'm cutting off my nearly continuous habit of checking what time it is. I tell myself it's because I hate being late, but it's really because I hate feeling like I'm not in control. When I don't know what time it is I can't plan ahead for every contingency (as in, "if a 2 tram comes first I can take it to Vigado Ter and then walk to the yellow metro, meaning I'll get to my stop with seven minutes for the five minute walk to church. But, if the 4 or 6 tram comes first I'll take it to Oktogon and then I'll have to power walk it because I'll have 9 minutes to do an 11 minute walk"). This will mean I'm giving up more of my controlling attitudes. Second, it will actually force me to be more intentional about spending time with people. I won't be able to call them up at the drop of the hat, but will have to arrange things in advance via e-mail or during my token hour. And with all that extra time not using my cell will put into my schedule I hope to... just be.

spring look

2006-02-25T16:21:00.000+01:00

Before:

After:

cell culture

2006-02-24T09:21:00.000+01:00

I found Lauren Winner's thoughts on cell phones to be very provocative and even more applicable in Europe. I think I'm going to try to eliminate language from my vocabulary that equates time with money (spend, maximize, use, save, etc.). Maybe I'll give up my cell phone for lent (eek!).

random budapest bits

2006-02-23T16:44:00.000+01:00

1. My friend Aaron came to visit. We are proud graduates of Calvin College.

2. I saw my first Hummer in Budapest a few days ago. I kicked its tire in anger.

3. And for a bit of contrast, the next day I saw a Trabant...

...with a huge spoiler. Beautiful!

fundamentalism

2006-02-22T13:10:00.000+01:00

I had a scary moment a few days ago. On Monday nights I go to a Hungarian conversation group run by my church here in Budapest. It’s good language practice and good fun. I met a new member of the group this week, and after chatting a bit I realized I had set off this fellow American ex-pat’s fundamentalist warning bells. This was strange because I usually find myself on the liberal end of the spectrum of American Christianity, and I tend to interact with people who are more fundamentalist than me. I even try to eschew the term evangelical, though I know it probably describes me pretty accurately. For the first time in a while (about six months) I was meeting someone who was at the same place I am on this “spectrum,” if not farther left, and I was coming off as a dreaded “fundi.”

It got me thinking. Since we make these judgments so quickly, categorizing other Christians in a flash, they must be based on the language we use to talk about faith. Looking back over the short interaction I had with this person I realized I had used some evangelical buzzwords. Initially I was embarrassed for using them, but then I got upset that a certain group of Christians has commandeered some otherwise useful vocabulary. Take, for example, the words “born again.” I remember first hearing them in Sunday School when we heard the story of Jesus and Nicodemus. It was this kind of strange (but useful) analogy that Jesus makes between becoming a Christian and actually starting life again. I assumed that “born again” was synonymous with “Christian.” Later in life I learned that some use the phrase to describe only a certain type of Christian, not all of them. Language can, of course, be a bond that ties groups together or a barrier that keeps outsiders away (usually both), but does it determine my identity in the context of believers? Simply because I know these words does that mean I really am an evangelical? Or do I know these words because I’m an evangelical in denial?

in which I eat crow

2006-02-20T22:25:00.000+01:00

I have a confession to make: last Sunday afternoon I went to the movies and I enjoyed myself. No, I’m not guilt-ridden because I went to the cinema, or even because I went on a Sunday (though I have no doubt my grandfather would not have been impressed). The problem is that I enjoyed the particular movie I saw: Pride and Prejudice. That’s right. I, an avowed Jane Austen hater, enjoyed the latest film version of one of her novels. Someone check the sky for flying swine.

Before we get too carried away, let me explain. I grew up with older sisters who read and loved all the typical older sister books: the Anne of Green Gables series, the Brontes, the random trashy romance, and, of course, Jane Austen (Zane Gray being the notable exception). Being a typical younger brother, I ridiculed them for reading such “girly” books at every opportunity. The summer before I entered eighth grade I was going after one of them (I think Jen) for reading Austen when she very reasonably asked me if I had ever read any. I was crestfallen because she was right. That day I dug up a copy of Pride and Prejudice and started. I was determined to finish it, and though it took me three years, I did. My general pattern was to read steadily for about two weeks, get so angry I would throw the book across my bedroom, go back to reading Horatio Hornblower for a few months, then return to Austen in my dogged determination to get the moral high ground on my sisters. I finally finished the stupid thing, and guess what showed up on the syllabus for my 12^th grade world lit class – that’s right. I’ve since raised my repertoire of Austen novels to two because I had to read Persuasion in college.

I don’t want to alienate the entire female gender, so let me elaborate on my frustration. I respect Austen, I just don’t like reading her novels. The whole cultural satire thing – brilliant. She investigates societal gender roles and their implications generations before those sorts of discussions became commonplace. Furthermore, she’s a good writer. Her dialogue is snappy and witty (or at least as snappy as Victorian English people can get), and she finds the right balance between exhaustive over-description and stark narrative. But here’s the problem: her characters drive me up the wall. I wanted to get all of them together in one room and make them talk to each other like normal, functional human beings. Why doesn’t Jane Bennet simply tell Mr. Bingly that she wants to marry him and have lots and lots of babies, and why doesn’t Mr. Bingly bother to simply ask Jane if she’s interested before running away to London? Is this too much to ask? (And I understand that in Victorian England it probably was too much.) For me, reading Austen is an exercise in controlling frustration and about as relaxing and enjoyable as a long distance run – after a short while I just don’t see the point.

And so back to Sunday, when SJ and I were going to meet to see The Constant Gardener. It wasn’t showing until late, so (God only knows why) I thought it might be ok to see Pride and Prejudice. I had heard good things and was interested in seeing if Keira Knightly is really an actress or just another pretty face, but ultimately my motivation was probably the same I had in reading the book years ago. However, the movie was great. However, the movie was great. Many of the same old frustrations surfaced, but in the relatively short time frame of a movie they’re more bearable. The supporting characters were extremely well acted, especially Donald Sutherland’s Mr. Bennet, Claudie Blakley’s Charlotte, Judi Dench’s Lady Catherine, Talulah Riley’s Mary, and Jena Malone’s deliciously horrible Lydia. If my memory serves, a great deal of the dialogue was taken directly from the book, and if not it was a good approximation.

Despite that, the film would have never worked for me if not for the way the two key figures, Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, were portrayed. I’ve spent hours of my life arguing that they are two of the most overrated characters in all of literature, but for the first time, while watching this film, I sympathized with them. It all seemed somehow more believable. Knightly can indeed act, and her Elizabeth was introspective and thoughtful where the Elizabeth I remember was haughty and downright foolish (it helped that in the movie she didn’t fall nearly as hard for the pathetically transparent Mr. Wickham). Lest you think I’ve had a complete turn around I can assure you I’m not going to pick up the novel any time soon. However, I’ll conclude by saying the film was an enjoyable way to spend the afternoon, which is more than I ever thought I would be able to say about an Austen story.

visitors

2006-02-19T18:46:00.000+01:00

I had houseguests this week. I like being hospitable, and this was a fun opportunity for me to do so. Three Americans who teach with my organization in the Czech Republic, Sarah, Kassidee, and Christy, spent most of the week staying with me at the Bazis. Then, my old Third Schultze college buddy, Aaron Griffith, was in town for the week too. I got to play the tour guide when I wasn't at school, and I think my extensive knowledge of Budapest cafes and coffeeshops may have been my most important skill. Between all of those stops and several quality home-cooked meals (including one by Sam), it was a good week for food (not so much for staying fit).

When I was growing up my family had a revolving door approach to hospitality. Whether for meals, some conversation, or just to use our wash machine, it seemed that as soon as somebody left somebody else would be arriving. It helped that we lived in a college town, and college students are some of the best guests you can find. I think all the practice I got while I was growing up prepared me to deal with some of the typical worries. For example, I've learned that your attitude about the cleanliness of your home is far more important than how clean it actually is.

The spiritual connection is twofold. We are called to be hospitable to other Christians, and that means more than just occasionally inviting them over for coffee and windmill cookies. That means making space for them in our Christian communities (and especially worship), ideologically, spiritually, and physically. If we are not considering the unique needs of others when we organize or lead a Christian event, we're not doing our job. The church is made of all types: singles and families, the widowed and divorced, the injured and disabled, the academic and simple, and everyone in between. Secondly, making space for God is a form of hospitality. When we take the time to practice spiritual disciplines like silent meditation and centering prayer, contemplative scripture reading, or others we open up ourselves to what God might be doing. So invite people over sometime - it's good for you.

what happened to January?

2006-02-10T18:02:00.000+01:00

disclaimer: Christmas Card Blog post

I had one of those moments today when you just stare at the calendar because you can’t believe the date is actually right. We’re into February’s double digit days already! (By the way, I blame this on the glorious picture of Rose Cottage in Hemingford Grey, England that is my calendar photo for Jan/Feb – it always distracts me.) It got me thinking about what I’ve been doing for the last month, and it’s actually quite a lot. Let me fill you in on a few details.

I’ve traveled out of the country twice in the last month – first to the previously mentioned Hemingford Grey. I spent an amazing summer there in 2004 working as an intern at St. James, the parish church, and living with a fantastically kind and hospitable couple from the church. This January the Calvin College Orchestra (including several good friends of mine) toured England, and I made the trip to see them perform at St. James. It was doubly sweet since I was able to catch up with English friends as well as those from the ensemble. I came away excited, encouraged, loved, and just a little bit homesick.

The second trip was a ski weekend in Slovakia with about 20 American friends (and one Czech). While it was a blast to hang out with such a large a boisterous group, I’m woefully out of shape and I got pretty tired as the weekend went on. I couldn’t keep up with the most enthusiastic skiers, but I had a terrific time anyway. The scenery in the Low Tatras range was especially breathtaking.

I also took an overnight trip to Pecs and Villany, the heart of Hungary’s southern wine region. Five other teachers and I spoiled ourselves with an evening of good food and wine tasting and a night at the winery’s guest rooms. It was a small, family-owned winery, so the hospitality was incredible. It reminded me of my first visits to Hungary and the generosity of the families we stayed with in small towns like Szamosszeg, Sarospatak, Nagydobrony, Magyarlona, Szentivany, and Nagyenyed.

Despite all these wonderful travel opportunities I’ve done my best to keep up with my teaching responsibilities (and done a decent job of it when I haven’t been sick!). I started The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe with one of my classes, and it’s been a treat to dig into a good story with them. I’m constantly impressed with how much they pick up and the good discussions the reading has prompted. My favorite was a passionate thirty minutes spent trying to figure out why the wardrobe worked sometimes and not others. On Monday we’ll discuss the Pevensie children’s fateful meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Beaver and the first mention of Aslan – I can’t wait!

presticogitation

2006-02-02T16:40:00.000+01:00

I know that many of you faithful readers are products of the same educational community that I am, thus the gushing I’m about to do will be familiar and perhaps even boring. For the rest of you, I want to introduce you to a professor who, in just one class, dramatically changed my life plans. A Chicago Tribune article written by the heart of the ‘01-‘02 Campus Choir bass section, Nathan Bierma, prompted this post.

I stumbled into Professor James Vanden Bosch’s linguistics class in the fall of my junior year of college. I was an English and religion double major, and I needed some sort of “language” class to fulfill the English requirements (I think my options were linguistics, grammar, grammar for teachers of ESL, history of the English language, or sociolinguistics). I had heard Vanden Bosch was pretty good, and none of those courses sounded any better or worse than the others to me (except grammar gave me a few shivers of trepidation).

Before I knew it I had been swept off my feet by the fascinating world of language. It was an intro course, so we touched on all sorts of interesting topics such as how language should be defined, how we acquire language, how different groups of people use language differently (whether defined by region, gender, social class, or even race), how to best systemize language with grammar, and most important for this discussion, language’s dynamic and vibrant nature. As I go back over that list I realize that it may sound a bit dry, or even boring. I can only assure you that it wasn’t, and I left class every day with important and relevant questions bouncing around in my head – questions directly related to big issues like poverty, sexism, human development, education, relativism, and faith.

One of the most fascinating parts of the course was our extended discussion on how words become words, perhaps because it’s such a passion of Vanden Bosch’s. The idea that a word like “blog,” to use a pertinent example, can spring from oblivion into general usage in a matter of a few years is really stunning when you think about it. Of course specialized technical words frequently spring to life, but new words develop all the time and old ones change meanings just as fast. Vanden Bosch’s own contribution to this process is “presticogitation,” a word eloquently described in Nathan’s article. I’ve come to love this word because there is no other one that succinctly describes dizzying and befuddling intellect quite like it, and because it accurately portrays Vanden Bosch’s own rapier-like wit. If I used the word at Calvin and someone asked me what it meant I usually responded by asking if they knew Vanden Bosch, because he is its simplest definition.

Needless to say, the class hooked me and I went on to take Grammar for ESL Teachers, Phonetics, Sociolinguistics and Issues in Language Education, and History of the English Language. This turned into what can only be described as an obsession fed by my regular investigations of Inflections, Language Log, Word of the Day, Bethany's pet language project, Kent's once-lively linguistic investigation, and my own college's language links page. People ask me why I like this stuff so much, and I usually talk about the ubiquity of language. Its endless changes and permutations can teach us something about ourselves and the way we see the world. A famous linguistic theory (the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis) claims that all languages are unique and that the language we speak determines, to some extent, the way we view and think about the world. It’s not hard to then add that without understanding our language we can’t begin to understand ourselves.

So, as thanks for sending me down this fascinating path, I’m taking a page out Nathan’s book and telling as many people as I can about Professor Vanden Bosch’s word (though I don’t think I have quite as many readers as the Chicago Tribune). Presticogitation, “rapid mental processing that commands compliance because of its speed and beauty” according to Vanden Bosch himself (as quoted by Bierma), has no synonym. Spread the word, and help make it a part of vernacular English as it so richly deserves to be.

bad cookies

2006-01-19T17:10:00.000+01:00

Yesterday I had the English Club over to my place to cook a truly American dish: chocolate chip cookies. I had high hopes for wonderful, moist, chewy cookies, a la John Cooper. Unfortunately, things didn't quite work out that way. First of all, our kitchen is so small that we had to do the cooking in shifts. Only four students could help at a time, and rotating them in and out meant nobody really got to do as much cooking as they wanted. Then, in a mishap that may or may not be my fault, twice as much brown sugar as was needed got added to the dough. It looked a little strange when we finished, but I decided to try it anyway. Big mistake. Our product was a sticky mass of cookie-like goo. Not to be defeated, we added a bunch of flour and tried again. This time we got something that could technically be called a cookie, but they were too sweet and super crunchy. Despite the mishap I had a wonderful time hanging out with the students who came. We played Scrabble while we waited for the cookies (me against 5 of them), and I showed them around my humble abode (the most exciting thing was my FC Barcelona soccer scarf which either disgusted or impressed them, depending on their allegiances). It was a little hard on my pride to turn out lousy cookies, but a little humility is almost always a good thing. I've been doing a lot of reading lately, so expect future posts on truth in memoir (thank you James Frey), and cross-cultural worship (Symposium time is here again). That's just a teaser to make sure you keep coming back to my blog! For now though, read what Lauren Winner has to say about Epiphany, or what the BBC has to say about my Dad!

my desk

2006-01-15T14:43:00.000+01:00

I thought you might like a picture of where I spend a good deal of my time, and where I sit when I write many of these posts. Mine is the one on the left. Also, I changed up the sidebar links a little.

at the trip-c

2006-01-14T15:16:00.000+01:00

When I started this blog thirteen months ago I told myself that I would only post when I had something to say that might matter to other people. My personal source of expertise on blogs is Bethany, who has developed her own classification system. My aforementioned goal is part of a desire for this to be a Commentary Blog ("similar to an editorial column or essay series"), but I often cross into Christmas Card Blog territory ("primarily [used] as a way to keep up with friends they might not correspond with personally very often"). Today, for example, I don't have a great deal to say, but I feel inclined to post something anyway. I'm not reading anything terribly blog-worthy at the moment (The Testament, by John Grisham, and I read The DaVinci Code on Wednesday), teaching has been very busy lately (a rash of illnesses among my co-workers has meant I've had to cover a lot of extra classes) but not too unusual or thought-provoking, and I haven't had much time to simply sit and think about things (often the source of blog posts).

For some reason, though, as I sit here in a Budapest coffee shop, I want to let the world know I'm alive and well by posting on my blog. I think that desire - wanting to say something, even if it's nothing - means I've slid into Christmas Card Blog world. Maybe I can surf the line a bit, but I think my prideful wish to be literary, intelligent, and somehow above mere Christmas Card Blogs has caught up with me. Frankly, it reminds me of the "Vanity, Thy Name is Human" episode from season one of Joan of Arcadia. Joan's friend/romantic interest Adam is the alternative artsy type who refuses to go for conventional high school activities like going to the mall or wearing the latest styles, but Joan calls him out for being just as conscious of his alternative image as everyone else is of their mainstream one. Lately I've been feeling a lot like Adam, and I could use a little Joan to keep me honest and humble. I hope that made sense to those of you who haven't seen the episode (which I would guess to be 92% or 11 out of 12), but it's ok if it didn't because this is just a Christmas Card Blog now!

why I waited until today to take my Christmas picture off my blog

2006-01-06T17:50:00.000+01:00

Pop quiz: Yesterday was the 12th day of Christmas. That makes today _______.

If you said Epiphany, you’ve won… nothing. (The last time I offered a prize on this blog I unexpectedly had to actually deliver on my promise. I’m not making that mistake again, Neal.) Those of you who’ve hung around me in recent years know how much I’ve come to treasure the liturgical calendar. It’s the chronological depiction of God’s grace, annually taking us step-by-step through the dramatic story of God’s interaction with his world. Epiphany is one of the lost Christian holidays (a group which I fear will soon include all Christian holidays besides Christmas and Easter, and we can have a healthy discussion about how those two are celebrated). Indulge me for a moment, and allow me to give you three reasons why you should celebrate Epiphany this year (and every year).

First: the events of Epiphany are really cool. I know Christmas is pretty fun with the cute barnyard animals, the angel choir, and the miracle of the virgin birth, but when you get right down to it all that stuff’s pretty dirty and gross (I wouldn’t want anybody I know to give birth in a nasty manure-filled sheep cave). The “absurdity” of this incarnation (see Kent’s post) is put in harsh perspective by visits from the greatest minds of foreign countries and Simeon’s bold declaration of faith at Jesus’ circumcision. Imagine a refugee baby born in a disgusting stable visited by great heads of state, or intellectual giants – now that’s absurd! (For more on this look into the Berlioz oratorio “L’Enfance du Christ,” a great Christmas counterpoint to Handel’s “Messiah.”)

Second: Epiphany means “to show” or “to reveal,” as in this Jesus child being revealed for what he is, the Messiah, the King of Kings, the very Son of God. If Christmas is about the wonder of Christ becoming human, Epiphany is about the wonder of Christ becoming human. On this day the world-shaking reality of Jesus’ divinity is revealed to us, and it’s our privilege to reveal that divinity to others. Light is a big theme for Epiphany, and as carriers of Christ’s light we get to reveal it to the entire world. (For more take a good look at Isaiah 60 and 61, great Epiphany chapters.)

And third: Simeon, one of the most underrated Biblical characters. This old man’s been told by God that he’ll see the Messiah in his life. Of course, for a Jew of his day that means he’ll see a new David to usher in a time of peace, prosperity, and prominence for Israel. It’s back to the good ol’ days! Don’t you think he would want to hang around to see how this thing turns out? Don’t you think he would want to keep tabs on this Jesus kid? But these are Simeon’s words after seeing the baby Jesus in the temple:

“Sovereign Lord, as you have promised,
you now dismiss your servant in peace.
For my eyes have seen your salvation,
which you have prepared in the sight of all people,
a light for revelation to the Gentiles
and for glory to your people Israel." (Luke 2:29-32 NIV)

Simply seeing the Christ child was enough. The revelation – the Epiphany – of this child’s true identity and nature was what gave Simeon shalom. This Epiphany join in his prayer (if you can sing it, all the better), and recognize this savior graciously revealed to us.

ugh

2006-01-05T09:44:00.000+01:00

Disclaimer: This will likely be another whiny and maybe even gross blog post. Sorry.

You ever have one of those days that can best be described by that strange in between a groan and a grunt noise? I woke up this morning still feeling like somebody had a belt cinched around my chest, and groggy from the overdose of cold meds I took last night so I could get to sleep. I took a long shower that involved Tarzan-like beating of my chest in an effort to dislodge the phlegm coating my alveoli (brought back great memories of post-heart-surgery physical therapy - if only I had those rubber suction cup beating things they gave me). I take the time to have some eggs for breakfast (it was that or lentils - the only foods I have in the house) and still get to school plenty early enough to make the copies I need for today's classes. I grab my books and head down to the teacher's room and find the copier's broken. No copies = new lesson plans. Then I do my morning internet check (e-mail, blogs, news.bbc.co.uk, and of course ESPN.com) and find that Texas has just scored a touchdown to go up 41-38 on USC with something absurd like 19 seconds to play. Then I have to wait approximately 15 minutes before they refreshed their site with news that Texas did in fact hold on to win (I was so close to calling you to find out, Dad). You can imagine my state as I walked into class this morning. Of course, nothing can cheer you up like hearing a happy bouncy 14 year-old respond to your good morning with "You sound like frog death." Priceless.

incarnation realities

2005-12-27T14:41:00.000+01:00

I have smart friends. Kent and Bethany, the two other original members of our little blogging cabal, made profound Christmas observations on their blogs. I advise you to take a look.

As for me, my first Christmas away from my family was equal parts bitter and sweet. Fellow ESI-er Danielle did a wonderful job of making it feel like Christmas by opening her home to a random collection of folks with no place to go. Our potluck Christmas dinner was wonderful, and we had a great time. The toughest moment came when I woke up at 6:30 Christmas morning to call my family in Seattle (where it was 9:30 PM Christmas Eve). For as long as I can remember our family has gathered around our Christmas tree after church on Christmas Eve and all shared a Christmas reading of some kind - poem, scripture, short story, song lyrics, devotional, or anything, really. I think my family would agree that I'm particularly enamored with this tradition (I put it down to being the English major of the family) so I was really happy to be able to use Danielle's internet phone to take part in this tradition intercontinentally. My reading this year was excerpts from a sermon by Fleming Rutledge on the massacre of the infants, commenting on the importance of that detail within the Christmas narrative. She observed that without a recognition of pain, evil, and suffering in the narrative itself it has no more importance than the Rudolf story, or Frosty the Snowman. I was once again reminded how easy it is to insulate ourselves from the pain of the world, and that as long as one of my brothers or sisters is in pain, I am too. My New Years resolution (as it was last year, and the year before): be an agent of God's shalom in this world of pain.

holiday greeting

2005-12-22T04:23:00.000+01:00

Here's some Christmas cheer from the wonderful 9A1 class!

scatterbrained

2005-12-22T04:03:00.000+01:00

I can't seem to pull together coherent ideas, so here's a list of what's bouncing around in my noggin:

Today was the last day of school for me, and I'm remarkably happy about it. Spending the break here in Budapest should be very relaxing, if a bit lonely. My students, sweethearts that they are, even offered to put together an ice skating party over the break so I would have something to do. I'm looking forward to sleeping, writing, reading, cooking, and playing guitar.
Budapest is one beautiful city, especially with all the Christmas lights and decorations! I don't know how anybody can work around downtown and not feel at least a little bit festive!
Last night my school had it's annual talent show, Kossuth Est. I enjoyed the parts of it I could understand and faked my way through the parts I couldn't (just clap when everybody else claps...). It's good to know that most high school bands are the same worldwide: loud and bad.
The highlight of Kossuth Est gets it's own bullet point! The first act was not a current Kossuth student, but one who graduated last year and went on to fame and fortune by placing second in the Hungarian equivalent of American Idol. He even has a record contract! It was quite a big deal that he came back (my left ear is still a bit deaf from the girl who sat behind me and her screaming!), and he has a very good voice - high and velvety, like Otis Redding.
It's amazing how one chord on my guitar immediately silenced the class that I can NEVER get to shut up. They actually participated today in our Christmas carol sing-along without (much) extraneous talking. Talk about your Christmas miracles...
I love good jazz bari sax! I also love listening to the Duke Ellington version of the Nutcracker Suite at this time of year, especially Dance of the Sugar Rum Cherry. Coincidence? I think not.
As advent is the season of waiting, both for our celebration of Christ's first coming and for his second, themes of social justice have been prominent in my mind lately. Budapest is a city with lots of people begging for handouts, and I never know what to do. I've started trying to give a little to those who ask, not necessarily for them, but as a spiritual discipline for myself. I don't, though, know if I should do this because so many people have told me it doesn't really help anyone. It's not hurting me - I marvel at how much God has provided me with - but I'm still unsure about what is just.
Finally, thanks to Sam, I'm craving grits of all things! I know, it's crazy for a yankee like me to want them, but I can't help it.

That's what's in my head this evening, ladies and gentlemen.

a gift

2005-12-16T01:47:00.000+01:00

My students gave me a Christmas present today. In the middle of class they suddenly stood, sang a rousing (but sadly monotone) rendition of We Wish You a Merry Christmas, and presented me with a small package wrapped in newspaper. I took this picture in my flat with my "gift" this afternoon.

One of my students commented, "We don't think you look bad. We just think you need to shave your beard." Thanks.

Side notes: Anybody want to take a guess at which mountain is just over my right shoulder? Kent? And speaking of Kent, it seems the Thorubos group blog may be primed for a re-birth of sorts. Stay tuned for further updates.

vent

2005-12-09T00:48:00.000+01:00

[disclaimer: I'm about to vent in an annoyingly whiny sort of way. Sorry.]

I gave a major oral test to 36 of my students today, a test so major they get excused from their normal classes. The poor kids take turns entering a room to sit at a table and face their four English teachers (yes, they all have four hours of English class every day!). The test is the responsibility of their two native-English-speaking teachers, so we ask the questions and give the grades. I think I was as nervous as the kids were, but we were well-prepared and it was a fair test. We followed our rubric and the grades were about what I expected.

So, the problem? I'm told that some teachers are unhappy with the grades we gave. Let me assure you this was a fair test and the grades will not be changed, but this sort of passive gossip makes me particularly angry. I would love to talk to the other teachers about their concerns, after all I'm trying to learn how to be a teacher as quickly as I can - any suggestions/constructive criticism is always appreciated. Furthermore, at the conclusion of the test we asked the other teachers how they thought it went. We got the same response I get every day when I ask my students how they are: fine. (Mom: I'm sorry I used to answer that exact same word every day when I got home from school. Please forgive me!)

I feel like I'm stuck in some Jane Austen alternate reality where people don't communicate. I want a little open conflict. I want some discussion about this. Instead, it will probably just fade away and slowly fester until the next flare up. And to clarify, I don't think this sort of gossip is a particularly Hungarian problem. We all do it, of course, but that just makes it all the more annoying. I hate it when I see my own weaknesses demonstrated in other people - I don't even have enough moral high ground for some righteous indignation! I guess I'll just have to forgive them and try to prevent some of that festering.

risky busyness

2005-11-30T10:06:00.000+01:00

I've been both looking forward to and dreading this week for some time. It's been (and will continue to be) filled with all sorts of fun activities, but I'm getting low on sleep. Let me fill you in on some of the details. Monday night I returned to my church's weekly coffee house event which is mainly run for refugees. It's wonderful to spend time with people from Nigeria, Iran, Ethiopia, and other very different cultures. It's funny that I can be living in what is a foreign country to me and still miss international culture. I'm exposed to my American values and the general Hungarian culture, but rarely do I interact with any other cultural groups. For that reason coffee house is a breath of fresh air. Tuesday I was fortunate to have my regional director here, all the way from LA. She observed one of my classes (I felt much better about it this time!), and we got to have lunch and hang out for most of the afternoon. Our visit to parliament to see St. Istvan's crown was a success, and it was a treat to have some good discussions with her about my teaching and the rest of my life. Last night I went out to celebrate my teammate's birthday and had one of the fanciest evenings I've ever had in my life. We dined in style. Went out for cocktails. I even wore my tie. For a brief moment I felt like part of a culture I've never known, but then it past. It's amazing how much money makes a difference in your approach to life. Tonight I'm off to see Madame Butterfly in the cheap seats at the Opera House. And then tomorrow I jump on the train right after school to go to Prague and some friends' school ball. And somewhere in this whole process I have to find time to grade the quizzes I gave this week (yes, I stupidly gave every single one of my students a quiz in the same week - what a fool!).

When I have weeks like this I wonder a little bit. As most of you know, I'm here to do a job. I have a strong sense of calling and commitment to this work, and that keeps me going. However, weeks like this I wonder if I'm allowed to have this much fun! Going to fancy restaurants, taking in the opera, and gallivanting around Eastern Europe is not why I came to Budapest, so the good ol' Calvinist work ethic/guilt complex fires up. I think I'm doing my best to live up to my calling, but the clouds of my own disapproval gather when I live "the good life." I think about other places I could have sent the money I paid for a nice bottle of wine last night. I think about the activities with my students I could organize this weekend instead of dashing off to Prague. Then a still, small voice in the back of my head pops up and says (in a voice that sounds surprisingly like Laura Smit), "Rest, and enjoy the beauty of creation." This, of course, is solid Calvinist doctrine. To quote the CRC contemporary testimony, Our World Belongs to God, "Rest and leisure are gifts of God to relax us and to set us free to discover and to explore. Believing that he provides for us we can rest more trustingly and entertain ourselves more simply." Maybe I could work on the simplicity part of that, but the idea that leisure sets me free from my own expectations of myself is wonderful. It reminds me that the work I do is not mine to do. I am God's instrument - his tool - and as such I'm not the one who has the final say in the success or failure of the work. What a relief! I think the only thing I can do in response is to go enjoy the opera.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2005-11-24T04:47:00.000+01:00

Somewhere somebody once said you never appreciate things until they're gone. At least I think somebody said that, and if not I'm saying it. I'm feeling pretty mixed emotions about tomorrow, to be frank. It's my first Thanksgiving away from America, and I miss so many of the traditional holiday trappings (ask my family - they'll confirm I'm a tradition nut). I'm very glad I'll get to celebrate with my TeachOverseas colleagues tomorrow (I'm even skipping school!), but when I roll out of bed tomorrow morning I'll miss smelling Mom cooking the sausage for stuffing (and to you doubters, yes, my mom's stuffing has sausage in it, and it's the best stuffing in the world... so there). I have great memories of our "international-flavored" Thanksgivings back in State College, playing in the Thanksgiving Day football game with Uncle Dan in Holland, and the wonderful hospitality of the DeVries family in Grand Rapids (they even made me brussel sprouts!). There's so much to be thankful for, but I think it's good for me to step back from the tradition a bit. I've learned so much about my own culture in my short time here, and seeing things through the eyes of my students and my Hungarian colleagues helps me to understand myself. So tomorrow will be a different sort of celebration for me. Amidst the incredible blessedness I feel, I think I'll wonder about some of those things I've always been thankful for. Is my life really so much better because of the affluence, the things, and the luxuries I have? But don't worry - I won't let it get me too down. There's a lot of turkey and pumpkin pie to be eaten! Happy Thanksgiving to you all!

snow

2005-11-21T17:13:00.000+01:00

In an effort to be more positive I will now list the five best things about snow in Budapest:

5) It covers up the trash left in the field I walk across on my way to school.
4) It is yet another reason to be thankful for the terrific public transit here - I never have to drive in it.
3) I'm not sure but I think mulled wine tastes better when it's snowing.
2) Ice skating in City Park by Heroes' Square is even more fun when Vajdahunyad Castle is dusted with snow.
And the number one reason: 1) It makes it feel like Grand Rapids!

Actually, that was a joke. The real number one reason is that a trip to the outdoor thermal baths in the snow is incredible. And here's something a friend sent me today that I loved. It's by Stanley Hauerwas (I think). "The beauty of a green leaf turning red, the brightness of a stranger's face, the joy of a cat at play, the sheer wonder coming from the generosity of friends--for all this and so much more we give you thanks, we praise you, gifting God. Help us remember, however, that you have made us, through Jesus Christ, your thanksgiving sacrifice for a world that refuses to acknowledge its giftedness. Let us rush again and again to your feast of the new age, where you provide the space and time for us to enjoy being your joy."

a few photos

2005-11-19T23:18:00.000+01:00

Some favorite fall break photos...

"Mad" King Ludwig's Castle in Bavaria (and the model for Disneyland):

The Austrian Alps:

A favorite Munich activity:

observation

2005-11-19T22:52:00.000+01:00

As I alluded to in my last post, it's been a busy week. I found time for some fun activities (the opera on Wednesday night and after school table tennis with my students, to name a few), but my work week was dominated by the four class observations I had this week (one unofficial).

This is the first time anyone besides my students has seen me teach, and it was a little disconcerting. It probably goes without saying, but I think about my students when I plan my lessons, when I teach, and when I grade. Their needs are foremost in my mind. This week, though, as I prepared to be observed by my department chair, my ESI country director, and a group of about 20 or 25 guests for Pedagogy Day I started to think about other things. What would other people think of my teaching techniques? What nifty slick tricks do I have up my sleeve that I can use to wow these other teachers? Instead of focusing on what my students' needed (to practice using "would" for imaginary situations so they stop saying things like, "If I went to the beach I will take sunscreen so I will not burn down") I focused on what would impress other teachers.

The thing is, it worked. The other teachers liked my lessons, and I got good feedback. I felt lousy about one of the four observations (the "unofficial" one, fortunately), but otherwise I thought I had done pretty well. Then last night I was unwinding by reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (again), and I was blown away by how caught up in other people's opinions they were. Why does Ron care so much that he might not be able to apperate? Why does Harry worry that people will think he put Ron on the quidditch team just because they're mates?

I was actually thinking to myself, "boy, am I glad I'm not in that world anymore" when it hit me. That's exactly what I did this week. I sold out my students, and taught them lessons that were designed so they could show off their (and consequently my) brilliance, instead of ones that challenged them and taught them new things, and I did it because I was worried about what other people would think. In a word, pathetic. I owe them an apology for forgetting why I'm a teacher.

don't worry, I'm fine (or am I?)

2005-11-15T01:12:00.000+01:00

It seems that going a week without posting anything on my blog causes some worry among friends and family on the other side of the world. I guess that probably says something about my poor communication skills in other forums. My plan, mentioned in my last post, to bounce back from vacation with strength and vigor was derailed by a bad cold and cough. Instead I spent three days of last week at home in bed, eating strange Hungarian soup mixes, listening to soothing music, watching an occasional episode of Joan of Arcadia, and trying not to cough too much. I mainly stayed home so my students wouldn’t have the chance to make fun of my frog voice. I believe I’m back up to normal strength, which is good because I have a busy week ahead.

Between the road trip and my brief stint as an invalid I had some time to think, so I turned to my favorite subject: myself. Don Miller says we’re all “lifeboat people,” that is like those stranded at sea in a lifeboat trying not to be the one who gets it when the water runs out. To prevent that from happening we focus our energy on proving our significance to others, usually at the expense of others. I’ve only been in my current life situation for two and a half months, but it’s the most independent I’ve ever been in my life. It’s easy for me to fall into the lifeboat trap because I have few people around for whom I need to sacrifice my wishes and desires. As I teacher I essentially impose my will on my students (not necessarily a bad thing), and since I’m basically living alone I don’t have to worry about shared living space relationships. I don’t spend much time with friends, and when I do it’s often sadly superficial. Right now everything I do happens on my terms, and that’s not healthy.

Several recent events have brought this truth into stark reality: my parents’ visit (do I need to elaborate?), my trip with Sam, a recent e-mail from a friend living and working in some amazing Intentional Christian Community in New York City, an article I read on “the new monasticism” of urban ICCs that sounded so much like what we wanted Project Neighborhood to be last year (and sometimes was), and a few good chats with good friends. While being convicted of selfishness and self-idolatry is not a fun process, it’s made me draw closer to my many communities. As a Christian I’m called to live in community with my brothers and sisters, and that inevitably means sharing, compromising, giving, letting go of my need to feel worldly significance (read: superior to others), and serving others. I’ve been ignoring or avoiding that calling of late.

As usual, it feels good to get this out in the open (even if it’s through the passive channel that is my blog). The next step is for me to speak to those with whom I’m committed to being in community. Then I need to remember that my Christian ministry begins with my example of Christianity, and true Christian communities demonstrate God’s love in deep and beautiful ways. Perhaps by making this public I will force myself into a little accountability. As Luke Girardi would say, “Hey, Copernicus called. He wanted you to know he discovered the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

i love Bavaria (and more)

2005-11-04T08:29:00.000+01:00

So, to summarize, vacation's good. After travelling through Austria (hitting both Vienna and Salzburg, with a drive through the alps and the Austrian lake district) and Germany (Munich and Bavaria), I'm relaxing in Praha (Prague). The lovely Aaron and Phoebe graciously agreed to host us, even though their two year old son, Nehemiah, proceeded to run around laughing, screaming, and throwing himself on the floor for a good hour after we arrived. He likes new people, I think.

Some brief highlights include seeing cows wearing actual cowbells, mad king Ludwig's castle (the model for the Disneyworld castle), drinking beer and eating soft pretzels in Munich, the Austrian Alps (which look surprisingly like western WA), going to All Saint's Day mass in Munich, and catching up with friends (Christina in Vienna, all the Cheb/Sokolov ESI folk, and now the Prague gang). I wish I could give you the blow by blow of all of Sam and my adventures, but it would be longer than a Rick Steeve travel book.

Mostly, though, it's been wonderful to get away from the routine. I love getting away from the daily grind, because it makes going back to the grind so comforting. Nothing makes me appreciate the little daily things like a few days away from them. I think I'll return to my teaching duties next week with renewed vigor and energy. But until then, a few more sights to see...

road trip

2005-10-28T11:59:00.000+02:00

Greetings to my (7) faithful readers. I just finished teaching my last class before the much anticipated fall break. I will be spending next week driving around Europe, specifically to Vienna, Salzburg, Munich, Cheb/Sokolov, Prague, Bratislava, and back to Budapest. I'll try to update on the way. Until then!

"The Magical Food"

2005-10-27T23:58:00.000+02:00

Though I often get work from students that makes me laugh until it hurts, I've hesitated to post it on my blog for general enjoyment. Remember I'm the same person who wonders at the ethics of censoring spam comments on my blog - publishing student work without permission seems sketchy. The following, however, is a story the author had to read aloud to his class. Because it is already a public document I don't feel bad about posting it. That and I really like it! By the way, a passable knowledge of the international soccer scene will help in the reading.

"Once upon a time there was a little fat soccer koala named Konaldo. He had a very good friend called Benhaldinho. Konaldo and Benhaldinho were football players on the Koalaian national team. They had a magical food, the eucalyptus footballus. But there was a very bad rock kangaroo called Jumpy. This rock kangaroo was the minister of Kangaruantina. He didn't like football and he hated Koalai. The standard of living was higher in Koalai. Education and tourism were also high, but inflation was very high in Kangaruantina. [editor's note: can you tell what type of vocab we were working on that they had to include in their story?] In Kangaruantina the government wanted to steal the eucalyptus footballus. They charged Jumpy to steal it. One day there was a football match between Koalai and Kangaruantina. It was a "war" because Konaldo played against his enemy Ronaldingo. Konaldo's team lost the match because Jumpy stole the eucalyptus footballus. The fans started to fight. The police came and took them to jail. The police also took Jumpy to jail because they discovered he stole the magical food. So they lived happily after in freedom."

Well done, Gabor.

parental units

2005-10-26T15:58:00.000+02:00

I'll send some paprika to the first person who identifies the guys in the statue my Dad and I are standing by in the first picture.

By the way, it's 7:00 in the morning and game three of the World Series is still going on (11th inning). Can I skip my first class to watch the web cast? I'm guessing not.

Sinatra, baseball, a Zlaty, and Russian Lit

2005-10-25T23:25:00.000+02:00

I'm feeling into bullet points today. Here goes...

Mom and Dad left yesterday and I responded by spending the whole afternoon on my couch - grading, planning, relaxing, and watching Alias. I feel almost caught up.
I'm sitting in an internet cafe sipping a Zlaty Bazant and it reminds me of Calvin Band Tours. I'm really thankful for those memories.
At the big covered market today I saw a Jack-O-Lantern on top of a stack of pumpkins for sale. I nearly bought a pumpkin just so I could carve it.
What happened to the 'Stros? I feel happy for the Sox and my Chicago connections, but I thought this would be a great series. Here's hoping Roy and the Astros can bounce back tonight.
I have to preface the funny train story by saying I'm really not attracted to most Hungarian women because of the way they dress and act. Let's just say modesty is not a priority. So, when a tastefully dressed attractive young woman sat in our compartment on the trip home from Eger I took notice mostly because it's such a rare thing to see. I have no interest in dating a Hungarian (the cultural differences would make it challenging), but I have never wanted to speak Hungarian more than when this young woman pulled out a Hungarian copy of "The Master and Margarita" by Mikhail Bulgakov. This is at least one of my favorites, if not my favorite book of all time (with thanks to E. Ericson and R. Rienstra). It was crazy - I had been mildly attracted to this woman and seconds later, before I knew it, I desperately wanted to talk to her. Oh well, maybe I'll meet her again sometime when my Hungarian is a bit better.
The Batman post is coming, but let me reiterate that humanity is what makes great people great. Nobody liked Superman until the comic book writers invented kryptonite. It's the same with Jesus. He went through the temptations we do, but didn't give in. Batman is the best superhero because he's not super.
I saw a new ad on a tram this afternoon. It featured Dr. Green, Dr. Ross, Dr. Benton, Nurse Hathaway, and the Physicians assistant Gini from the old days of ER. I was trying to remember how long it's been since any of those people were actually on the show. Hungary - always on the cutting edge of culture.
The internet cafe is playing Sinatra singing standards (I Only Have Eyes for You, The Way You Look Tonight, etc.). Nice.
With fall break coming next week my students are about as cooperative as a three year old in a pet store. I need tranquilizers for them.
Walking around Budapest and enjoying the wickedly beautiful fall weather while listening to Jack Johnson makes me very happy.

quick thought

2005-10-21T21:05:00.000+02:00

Mom and Dad are here, and it's a surreal clash of worlds. My students are meeting my parents? So strange!

kedd

2005-10-18T21:15:00.000+02:00

It's Tuesday (Kedd, in Hungarian), and it's cold. We had our first frost Sunday night, and now my early morning walk to school is full of the foot crunching wonderfulness that comes from frosted grass. Did that last sentence even make sense? The cool, crisp fall days have been beautiful, and last week I was inspired to walk around my little corner of Budapest taking pictures. I hope to soon post a photo-essay of sorts, documenting Csapel for you all. But as I was walking around yesterday, I realized that Sunday marks the two month anniversary of my arrival in Budapest. It's amazing how quickly that two months has past, but also how long ago that seems. I don't feel like waxing poetic to mark the occasion (at least any more than I already have), so, in honor of Sam, here are some random thoughts on a Kedd...

1. I went to Eger this weekend (that's where I had the chocolate/walnut/rum flavored pancake with fresh fruit and whipped cream that is featured below). I saw the second largest church in Hungary, a really cool library (with a letter from Mozart), and the castle where a mere 2,000 Hungarians held off 40,000 Turks in the middle of the 16th century (only to be conquered by those some Turks 40 years later in a truly Hungarian twist of fate). The area's famous for its red wine, which was quite good, though the Egri Bikaver I had (literally, bull's blood) wasn't too special. The legend is that the Hungarians with beards stained red by wine held off the Turks with such ferocity thought the Turks thought they must have been drinking bull's blood. Rick Steeve's debunked the myth for me (as usual, he knows everything) by saying the name doesn't appear until the mid 19th century.

2. Hungarian is hard! I have lessons with my wonderful tutor, Lidia, on Tuesday afternoons, and in preparing for this week I was struck (once again) at how different the language is. The structures of English I've spent so much of my life working on simply don't exist in Hungarian. The language has no prepositions - just 400 different ways to end words (slight exaggeration).

3. Pogacsa are wonderful. Just trust me - I eat too many.

4. I had lunch yesterday with Todd, a very cool American who's been here with his family for years working with church planting and summer camps for kids. They do a 10 day English camp and a 10 day arts camp every summer as an outreach ministry of the E-Free church here (KEGY). Maybe it's something I can be involved with.

5. One of the most interesting things about sharing an office with four other teachers is what I've come to call the I'm-gonna-kill-em face. The nearly daily moment of someone walking back into our office between classes with a look on their face that could freeze water is always interesting. As teachers we (at least try to) contain our emotions during class so we can maintain some sense of dignity. But when we get back in the sanctum of the office, all bets are off - the real feelings come to the forefront and it creates a funny sort of bond between us. Last week one of my colleagues had to deal with a tragic accident that put her sister and nephew in the hospital. We saw the face a lot, but we were able to be supportive. It felt like the way community is supposed to work.

6. I picked up some Russian Lit again (Pasternak this time), thanks to a funny thing that happened on the train back from Eger. It feels very appropriate to read it here.

greatest dessert ever

2005-10-17T20:03:00.000+02:00

why I teach better when I iron my shirt

2005-10-14T23:03:00.000+02:00

The good news is my students care enough to search high and low on the internet to find my website (nice work, Peter and Marcell). The bad news is that since they've found it I have to be more careful about what I say. I've reached the end of another week, and I'm relaxing by sitting in the Havana cafe sipping a latte and reading about college football and the baseball playoffs. The cafe just taunted me by playing half of a Diana Krall song I didn't recognize (does she have a new album out - must check on this) before switching back to lousy Hungari-pop. It's even worse than usual, though, because it's a live recording complete with adolescent girls screaming their heads off. I, however, am in such a good mood I don't mind that much. I never thought teachers looked forward to the weekend as much as students do.

As I teach more I've realized that what happens in my class is fundamentally about the image I present in class. Looking back I draw a correlation between the days when I have a hard time with student behavior and how "together" I am. I was taught that the best classroom management is preventive, and a big part of that is being organized and prepared. I try to be real with my students (like admitting when I've made a mistake and being sufficiently contrite), but that doesn't mean I need to reveal all my insecurities to them. The old adage, "fake it 'til you make it" is something I've come to live by. And for me, part of that is ironing my shirts. I still don't feel much like an adult sometimes, but if I look like one I can at least fake it until I do. There's something about a crisply pressed collar and a tie that gives me confidence to face those rambunctious fourteen year-olds when it's lacking.

(And don't think I've given my secret away to those students who may be reading this - they don't know when I'm faking it and when I'm not. Besides, their quiz on Monday will remind them who's the boss!)

countryside

2005-10-10T23:04:00.000+02:00

The last few weekends I’ve been fortunate to get out of the city and enjoy a bit of the Eastern European scenery. With my parents coming to visit soon (and bringing a rented car) it’s likely the trend will continue. The fall scenery has been wonderful (though the changing trees don’t hold a candle to the colors in Michigan and especially Pennsylvania). My favorite part, though, has been the friendly encouraging people I’ve encountered. People in Budapest are friendly enough, but seeing Americans and suffering through their terrible Hungarian pronunciation isn’t a rare experience for the typical Budapestian. But out in Esztergom, Visegrad, or any of the many Slovakian hamlets we went to last weekend they’re a bit more gracious. This isn’t too surprising – everybody says you have to get out of the big cities to really see a country. So if this is the real Hungary, it’s one of the friendliest places I’ve ever been. Two examples: I was trying to ask directions in Hungarian, and the young man I was talking to patiently endured my slaughtering of his language before slowly and clearly articulating his response. I had a follow up question that was beyond my Hungarian, so on a whim I asked if he spoke English. He replied, “yes, I do. I would have said so before but I could see you really wanted to try your Hungarian, and you were doing very well.” (If only my students could form a compound-complex sentence like that one!) And second, last night, we were looking for a restaurant that was listed as number 14 on the main street in Szentendre. We couldn’t find it, so we asked the shop owner at number 13. She told us number 14 didn’t exist (which it doesn’t), but walked next door to another shop keeper to confirm this. When they agreed there was no number 14 we apologized and started walking away (they also apologized profusely – I guess for their town’s obvious deficiency for not having a number 14!), but a minute later the first shop keeper came running down the street after us. She had asked at another shop and found out the restaurant was in the next street over. Above and beyond the call of duty barely scratches the surface of this woman’s kindness to us.

Kossuth Day photos

2005-10-08T05:12:00.000+02:00

Captions:
9B students trying to see how many people can fit in a small box

Viola, a 9A1 student, being turned into a mummy

Daniel, a 9A2 student

One of the games - it involved moving a coin down the line without using any hands

Shandor and Gergy, 9A2 students.

Kossuth Day

2005-10-08T04:45:00.000+02:00

On Thursday instead of teaching my students English I got to show them my basketball skills at my school’s annual sanctioned hazing event, Kossuth Day. It began with the 10th, 11th, and 12th graders gathering in the gym, and making the four 9th grade forms parade in wearing the goofy overalls that blue-collar workers wear here. The first half of the day was a competition between the 9th grade forms in which randomly selected students were asked to perform silly and sometimes difficult tasks. For example, two students from each class were given two eggs, and going off the school grounds they were to cook them as quickly as possible. The various groups received points for speed and quality. Other pairs had to take a roll of toilet paper and get 50 people who had no connection to the school to sign it. Meanwhile, those students who were left had to compete in silly relay races and such. It was quite fun, and nobody was so embarrassed that they broke down and wept. After that students from all the grades were able to choose from a variety of activities ranging from sports tournaments of all kinds to candle holder decoration to a session on how to train dogs. I competed in the three-on-three tournament on a team with a PE teacher and a Physics teacher. We did well, but ended up losing the championship game 14-12 in a heartbreaker (we played first to 11 wins, but have to win by two). My involvement came about because I’ve been helping out with the after school basketball sessions recently. I enjoy it a lot because these kids have some skill, but no fundamentals. The first day I played on a team with three 9th graders, and we managed to beat four 11th graders because I was able to get my team doing basic pick and rolls, a give and go or two, and boxing out for rebounds. It’s a new kind of basketball for me because (a) I’m good over here, and (b) my greatest happiness comes when I get the ball to a weak player in a spot where he can get an easy lay-up. I don’t look to score unless I have to. It reminds me of years ago when I used to play basketball at Sunset Park with Don Garbrick. He would go out of his way to make us look good when he easily could have won the game by himself. It’s nice to see things come full circle a bit. (And sorry for those who don’t get the old State College reference.) I’ll post a few Kossuth Day photos, but I didn’t get any of the basketball since I was playing.

my students

2005-10-07T17:16:00.000+02:00

I love 'em. I hate 'em. But here they are... my 9A students in all their glory.

Peter and Marcell "working" in class.

9A3

9A1

9A2