I realized it has been a long time since I've updated this blog, and so I thought I would schreib a few lines.
The trip to Kassel was very fun (there are pictures posted if you want to see them!), and I enjoyed it thoroughly. I'm convince that if we'd lived at the same time, I would have been good friends with Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm. They were linguaphiles and fairytale nerds, and were dedicated to preserving culture. The world needs more grimm people (no pun intended).
Speaking of preserving culture, in our Sprachkurs last week we did a mini-unit on the overwhelming influence of English on German. Contrary to the beliefs of bitter German 101 students, a huge chunk of accepted German vocabulary is pulled straight out of the English language.
Some of this is understandable; things like company names and such needn't be translated, and no one but the Wise Guys is advocating for a "Kleinweich*" branch of Microsoft in Germany (though that may be because nobody would want to use "Fenstern**" anyway--they'd be better off with an "Apfel***"). But there are lots of things that have a legitimate German name, that people just call by the English, because it is "trendy." Despite the US's plummeting economy, we are still the Business Nation, and all of capitalism still kneels and prays with with it's face towards Lady Liberty and the holy land of commerce.
When you get into an Auto in germany, you fasten your Seatbelt. Many people go "shoppen," instead of the german "einkaufen." There are millions of Coffeeshops, but I have yet to see a "Kaffeehaus." There are a million more examples.
Now before you start thinking that I'm just a grumpy purist, let me put it this way: The Highway Administration had to reevaluate their information policy a little while back, because there were so many anglicized words on the tickets and things that elderly Germans or people who didn't have any English background couldn't understand it without help.
Not to be blunt, but what the heck? That's ridiculous. Give it another 100 years, and watch the German language disappear. How many other languages are becoming victims, I wonder?
The end of this rant is a harangue: don't participate in linguicide--learn a foreign language, and learn it for real. Don't just sit on your monolingual throne and expect everyone to learn English, or worse, turn their language INTO English! The French get a bad rap for being snobby about protecting their language, but maybe they're not just snobs--maybe they see the writing on the wall...
*"Kleinweich" klein - small, weich - soft
**Fenstern - windows
***Apfel - apple
http://dict.tu-chemnitz.de/dings.cgi?lang=en;service=deen
17.3.08
11.3.08
"All the Americans only speak English, well, except for Nicole and Josiah..."
The title of this post is a direct quote, translated from it's original German, by Françoir, my Belgian classmate. It was probably the highest compliment he could have paid me, and was confirmation that my efforts to connect with the other international students--and avoid cloisterment with Americans--is paying off. Needless to say, Nicole and I had to try very hard not to do victory dances as we left the Sprachenzentrum today! :)
Another compliment was given when I had Nicole and Ali over for dinner, and Matthias and Elena were also making dinner. We Americans talked to each other auf Deutsch the whole time, evening navigating the dificulties of cooking in a foreign language. Matthias and Elena were very impressed, and showered praise on us for speaking German even amongst ourselves. I also had an in depth discussion with Elena about mushrooms, and secured the promise of a taste testing when hers (which she is growing in a little mushroom garden in her room) finally sprout. woo hoo!
All and all, a success-filled day. It ended with me finally getting internet in my room, which means my life will be much easier (as soon as I get used to this English keyboard again) and YOU, my dear readers, will have more pictures!
But now it is getting late. We are leaving at 8:50 tomorrow morning to go to Kassel, the home place of the Brüder Grimm, where we will see lots of amazing sites, and even get to hear some Grimm fairytales from a bonafide story teller!
hopefully, my batteries will allow me to take copious amounts of digital documentation, which I will in turn be able to share with you.
Tschau!
Another compliment was given when I had Nicole and Ali over for dinner, and Matthias and Elena were also making dinner. We Americans talked to each other auf Deutsch the whole time, evening navigating the dificulties of cooking in a foreign language. Matthias and Elena were very impressed, and showered praise on us for speaking German even amongst ourselves. I also had an in depth discussion with Elena about mushrooms, and secured the promise of a taste testing when hers (which she is growing in a little mushroom garden in her room) finally sprout. woo hoo!
All and all, a success-filled day. It ended with me finally getting internet in my room, which means my life will be much easier (as soon as I get used to this English keyboard again) and YOU, my dear readers, will have more pictures!
But now it is getting late. We are leaving at 8:50 tomorrow morning to go to Kassel, the home place of the Brüder Grimm, where we will see lots of amazing sites, and even get to hear some Grimm fairytales from a bonafide story teller!
hopefully, my batteries will allow me to take copious amounts of digital documentation, which I will in turn be able to share with you.
Tschau!
10.3.08
'In the mud and the muck' or, 'My soul is troubled to the point of death'
I would like to write a special, public thank-you to Kathryn Fulton, whose letters and emails have been a constant wake-up call to me as I try to make sense of true discipleship to Christ in an atmosphere that is dominated by the intellectualized spiritual lethargy of modern university life.
This Sunday's Christus-Treff was amazing. It was the first Sunday I went by myself. Kelsey Yoncha is off in Italy with her family, and Nicole and Ali were visiting friends in Strasbourg, France. So it was me on my lonesome, but it was one of the best services I've been to yet here.
Worship was, as always, incredible, and then we broke up into small groups of 4 or 5 to pray for Afghanistan. It was the first time I ever got up the nerve to try praying in German, and I only said a short sentence, but it was really awesome to be able to pray with fellow believers in a different language. Even more incredible was listening to the prayers of the other people in my group, and understanding most of what they prayed, and realizing so concretely that God hears his people praying all around the world, in every tongue and every land. Unglaublich, unbegreiflich.
The message was all about the problem of pain: why it exists, how we deal with it as Christians, usw.* First of all, my comprehension level was running high at somewhere near 95%, which was of course exciting. But more important was the message itself. The problem with Pain is that we can intellectualize it, and philosophize and 'theologize' and add as many -ize words as we want, but when it comes down to the real, mucky, 'God! where are you? My soul is troubled to the point of death' kind of stuff, all of that theory--as true as it might even be--falls to dust, and we are left alone, hurting, with only God, and no concepts or theories. Where does Christ fit into a world so full of real pain? How does one reconcile such existence with an all-loving, all-powerful God?
Look at the example of Jesus. His life was just as full of pain as any existence we can imagine. In Christ, we see in the Garden of Gethsemane, God himself, in human form, cries out to the Father saying 'my soul is troubled to the point of death! God, where are you?'
When we decide to submit our lives to Christ, to follow him, we do not sign up for a life of happiness and sunshine. that doesn't mean that happiness and sunshine are completely MIA, but it does mean that when things become hard, terrible, even unbearably so, that something has gone awry, and God has disappeared. Quite the contrary. He is in fact, perhaps more present than ever. Jesus Christ is not some Fairy godmother, who waves his magic wand, turning the pumpkins in our lives into dazzling stagecoaches. He stoops down, the creator of the universe, of stars and planets, he kneels down in the mud and the muck and the pain, and when we cry 'Where are you, God?' he answers, 'right beside you, where I've been all along.'
As Christians then, as little Christs, what are we to do in a world so full of pain? We should go out into it, kneel down in the mud and the muck with those who are in pain, and with the hands of Christ, embrace them.
This blog entry is dedicated to the people I see on the street, passing me by, living lives of quiet desperation.
*German 'etc'
This Sunday's Christus-Treff was amazing. It was the first Sunday I went by myself. Kelsey Yoncha is off in Italy with her family, and Nicole and Ali were visiting friends in Strasbourg, France. So it was me on my lonesome, but it was one of the best services I've been to yet here.
Worship was, as always, incredible, and then we broke up into small groups of 4 or 5 to pray for Afghanistan. It was the first time I ever got up the nerve to try praying in German, and I only said a short sentence, but it was really awesome to be able to pray with fellow believers in a different language. Even more incredible was listening to the prayers of the other people in my group, and understanding most of what they prayed, and realizing so concretely that God hears his people praying all around the world, in every tongue and every land. Unglaublich, unbegreiflich.
The message was all about the problem of pain: why it exists, how we deal with it as Christians, usw.* First of all, my comprehension level was running high at somewhere near 95%, which was of course exciting. But more important was the message itself. The problem with Pain is that we can intellectualize it, and philosophize and 'theologize' and add as many -ize words as we want, but when it comes down to the real, mucky, 'God! where are you? My soul is troubled to the point of death' kind of stuff, all of that theory--as true as it might even be--falls to dust, and we are left alone, hurting, with only God, and no concepts or theories. Where does Christ fit into a world so full of real pain? How does one reconcile such existence with an all-loving, all-powerful God?
Look at the example of Jesus. His life was just as full of pain as any existence we can imagine. In Christ, we see in the Garden of Gethsemane, God himself, in human form, cries out to the Father saying 'my soul is troubled to the point of death! God, where are you?'
When we decide to submit our lives to Christ, to follow him, we do not sign up for a life of happiness and sunshine. that doesn't mean that happiness and sunshine are completely MIA, but it does mean that when things become hard, terrible, even unbearably so, that something has gone awry, and God has disappeared. Quite the contrary. He is in fact, perhaps more present than ever. Jesus Christ is not some Fairy godmother, who waves his magic wand, turning the pumpkins in our lives into dazzling stagecoaches. He stoops down, the creator of the universe, of stars and planets, he kneels down in the mud and the muck and the pain, and when we cry 'Where are you, God?' he answers, 'right beside you, where I've been all along.'
As Christians then, as little Christs, what are we to do in a world so full of pain? We should go out into it, kneel down in the mud and the muck with those who are in pain, and with the hands of Christ, embrace them.
This blog entry is dedicated to the people I see on the street, passing me by, living lives of quiet desperation.
*German 'etc'
9.3.08
In which I empathize with a greek philosopher and continue to dislike beer
As I begin to write this post, I cannot help but feel that it may be unwise. I know many people are reading this, and it is even being posted on the Epicenter's website. Therefore, I would like to post a disclaimer.
Disclaimer 1: The views expressed in this blog are not necessarily those of Messiah College, it's staff, or it affiliates.
Disclaimer 2: The views expressed by persons mentioned in this blog are not necessarily those of the author.
Now we can proceed.
On this most recent of Saturdays, I was walking back to my room, from the computer room, and my previous post, as it were. It is important to this story and many others to come that you know the geography of my room, as it pertains to the rest of the building. My room is right off of the kitchen on the 2nd floor (that's the 3rd floor, for those of you not familiar with European structural concepts). When I say off of, I really mean through, because the kitchen is on the far left side of the building, and one must go through it to get to my room.
Because of this location, I often meet people eating, preparing food, or cleaning up (only they aren't actually cleaning up, because no one does that here) as I exit or enter my room. It was just such an occasion yesterday afternoon, and I opened the ol' Tür der Küche to find my warm kitchen acquaintance, Mattheus, and his friend from America, whom I had met that morning. They were enjoying some beer and had a big bowl of peanuts and a big bowl of pistachios to pass the time. Mattheus really is a nice chap, and he has been very helpful in answering the plethora of questions I have had as a newbie here in Schloß 4. Just last week, I had an amazing conversation with him that lasted for about 30 minutes, about how the horrible events of WW II still cast their shadow on German people today. But I digress.
Wanting to be sociable, and to avoid the temptation to hide in my room until I magically become fluent in German, I sat down. The first thing they did of course, was to offer me some beer. Now, this is very natural, and probably the default greeting in Germany. You see someone you know, and they are sitting at a table. This means they almost certainly have beer, and they are almost certainly going to offer you some. Mattheus knows I don't like beer very much, beer having cropped up in our second conversation ever held together. He is naturally nonplussed at my dislike, and I think has taken it upon himself to find a beer that I will like, or to help me acquire a taste for the ones he likes.
So he offered me some beer, and I, trying to be grateful and fit in to German culture, said, 'sure, but just a little bit. I got a small glass out of the cupboard, and sat down. Thank God I got a small glass...
Apparently Mattheus's concept of a 'little bit of beer' and mine are worlds apart. I was looking for a tablespoon or two, and what I got was more along the lines of the last bit of Psalm 23. I took a sip before my cup could runneth over, and had to swallow my grimace with the bitter liquid. I just can't understand the attraction to something that tastes like rotting rainwater. 'That's not too bad, I like it more than some other beers.' I said, quite truthfully. I stared unhappily at the glass, still most of the way full. It was only about 1 cup of beer, but it was foul. Still, I'm a pretty stoic chap, and known for my durable pallet besides, so I began the unpleasant task of draining my cup to the bitter dregs.
It was a very small glass of beer; I could have done it quite easily, and held no hard feelings towards Mattheus or his friend. Alas for the might-have-beens!
I took another sip, eyed the glass, and calculated that I had already drunken about a fourth. This heartened me, but before I could buckle down again, Mattheus's blasted friend reached over and filled my cup back up! I would like to highlight that it was the American who did it first, because I don't think this practice of refilling glasses before they are empty is necessarily a German one. This point makes the entire thing a little harder to forgive, however. I settled back in my chair miserably. It had to be done. I took a generous handful of peanuts, in hopes that a strong thirst might make the beer a little less revolting. 2 handfuls of peanuts and another of pistachios later, I was almost done. I had a little more than a quarter of the glass left, about three more large sips. Freedom was nearly mine!
I've often noticed in life that one is best occupied expecting the worst. I have been accused for being a bitter, hopeless wretch, which is not quite fair, I think. There is a marked difference between utter despair and a healthy acknowledgement of the dependability of Murphy's Law. However, even the most level headed person can be caught off guard when pending salvation seems so near at hand...
Mattheus reached for the bottle. 'Would you like some more?' he asked. Horrified, I stammered 'nein! das ist gut!' but he must have mistaken my vehement negation for excitement, and proceeded to fill my glass to the brim.
the rest is, if not history, something very akin to it.
Socrates don't have nothin' on me.
Fin
Epilogue
Because there is a God and heaven, and he is all-powerful and all good, my glass ceased its imitation of Elijah's endless oil jar and I was able to retire to my room with a nasty stomach ache and dark oaths that I would break the bottle over the head of the next wretch who offers me beer.
Disclaimer 1: The views expressed in this blog are not necessarily those of Messiah College, it's staff, or it affiliates.
Disclaimer 2: The views expressed by persons mentioned in this blog are not necessarily those of the author.
Now we can proceed.
On this most recent of Saturdays, I was walking back to my room, from the computer room, and my previous post, as it were. It is important to this story and many others to come that you know the geography of my room, as it pertains to the rest of the building. My room is right off of the kitchen on the 2nd floor (that's the 3rd floor, for those of you not familiar with European structural concepts). When I say off of, I really mean through, because the kitchen is on the far left side of the building, and one must go through it to get to my room.
Because of this location, I often meet people eating, preparing food, or cleaning up (only they aren't actually cleaning up, because no one does that here) as I exit or enter my room. It was just such an occasion yesterday afternoon, and I opened the ol' Tür der Küche to find my warm kitchen acquaintance, Mattheus, and his friend from America, whom I had met that morning. They were enjoying some beer and had a big bowl of peanuts and a big bowl of pistachios to pass the time. Mattheus really is a nice chap, and he has been very helpful in answering the plethora of questions I have had as a newbie here in Schloß 4. Just last week, I had an amazing conversation with him that lasted for about 30 minutes, about how the horrible events of WW II still cast their shadow on German people today. But I digress.
Wanting to be sociable, and to avoid the temptation to hide in my room until I magically become fluent in German, I sat down. The first thing they did of course, was to offer me some beer. Now, this is very natural, and probably the default greeting in Germany. You see someone you know, and they are sitting at a table. This means they almost certainly have beer, and they are almost certainly going to offer you some. Mattheus knows I don't like beer very much, beer having cropped up in our second conversation ever held together. He is naturally nonplussed at my dislike, and I think has taken it upon himself to find a beer that I will like, or to help me acquire a taste for the ones he likes.
So he offered me some beer, and I, trying to be grateful and fit in to German culture, said, 'sure, but just a little bit. I got a small glass out of the cupboard, and sat down. Thank God I got a small glass...
Apparently Mattheus's concept of a 'little bit of beer' and mine are worlds apart. I was looking for a tablespoon or two, and what I got was more along the lines of the last bit of Psalm 23. I took a sip before my cup could runneth over, and had to swallow my grimace with the bitter liquid. I just can't understand the attraction to something that tastes like rotting rainwater. 'That's not too bad, I like it more than some other beers.' I said, quite truthfully. I stared unhappily at the glass, still most of the way full. It was only about 1 cup of beer, but it was foul. Still, I'm a pretty stoic chap, and known for my durable pallet besides, so I began the unpleasant task of draining my cup to the bitter dregs.
It was a very small glass of beer; I could have done it quite easily, and held no hard feelings towards Mattheus or his friend. Alas for the might-have-beens!
I took another sip, eyed the glass, and calculated that I had already drunken about a fourth. This heartened me, but before I could buckle down again, Mattheus's blasted friend reached over and filled my cup back up! I would like to highlight that it was the American who did it first, because I don't think this practice of refilling glasses before they are empty is necessarily a German one. This point makes the entire thing a little harder to forgive, however. I settled back in my chair miserably. It had to be done. I took a generous handful of peanuts, in hopes that a strong thirst might make the beer a little less revolting. 2 handfuls of peanuts and another of pistachios later, I was almost done. I had a little more than a quarter of the glass left, about three more large sips. Freedom was nearly mine!
I've often noticed in life that one is best occupied expecting the worst. I have been accused for being a bitter, hopeless wretch, which is not quite fair, I think. There is a marked difference between utter despair and a healthy acknowledgement of the dependability of Murphy's Law. However, even the most level headed person can be caught off guard when pending salvation seems so near at hand...
Mattheus reached for the bottle. 'Would you like some more?' he asked. Horrified, I stammered 'nein! das ist gut!' but he must have mistaken my vehement negation for excitement, and proceeded to fill my glass to the brim.
the rest is, if not history, something very akin to it.
Socrates don't have nothin' on me.
Fin
Epilogue
Because there is a God and heaven, and he is all-powerful and all good, my glass ceased its imitation of Elijah's endless oil jar and I was able to retire to my room with a nasty stomach ache and dark oaths that I would break the bottle over the head of the next wretch who offers me beer.
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