spring look

Before:















After:

cell culture

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

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

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

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

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?

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

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.