moving on

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...

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

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, Czech Republic (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?

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"

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

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

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?

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 sis 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

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

back in the USA

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

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"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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 doesnÂ’t 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

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

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.