thinking more cultural thoughts....and others

Last week, we got to hang out with various old friends who were visiting Oklahoma for various reasons. Two of these friends were Randy and Bri, who work with the church in Dresden and were here on furlough. I think being around them is probably part of the reason I've had Germany specifics on the brain for the last few days.

Anyway, one of the specifics this morning is Joe, our Iraqi friend from the Turkish place in downtown Chemnitz. And what I'm thinking is that I'm sad we never got to have him and his wife over for dinner. I would have loved to find out more about his culture than what he was able to communicate to us over the busy lunch counter at Kervansaray. I wish we could have learned more about each other's cultures and discovered more common ground. I wish I could ask him how he feels about Americans now and whether or not he still likes us. I wonder if he has been able to go home to visit Kirkuk. I wonder if his daughter knows her grandmother yet. I wonder if his mother and sister are still alive.

How do you brighten the corner where you are--in the midst of a war? Forget all the political claptrap, forget the justifications and reasons and excuses on both sides. The definition of war is humans killing each other. The definition of war is humans snuffing out lights instead of making them shine brighter. The definition of war is humans destroying opportunities for sympathy, compassion, and mutual understanding.

If the goal of human existence is to cross the bridge which spans the breach between humanity and God--and I believe this is the goal--then those who have seen the bridge need to be able to tell others about it.
We cannot tell others about the bridge unless we first learn a way to communicate with them.
Humans cannot communicate with one another unless they find common reference points.
This means sharing thoughts, feelings, experiences, cultures, personal background, collective history, language, habits, traditions, taboos, hopes, fears, dreams.
We all have a responsibility to share these things with each other. Not because we're American or German or Iraqi or French or British or Finnish or Chinese or Venezuelan or whatever. But because we're all human.

I wish Ed and I could have exchanged all of that with Joe. He gave us a small taste of his culture--both literally and figuratively! ;o) --and we gave him a small taste of ours. It wasn't nearly enough. But in our brief conversations across the lunch counter at Kervansaray, Joe brightened his corner of my world. I hope I succeeded in doing the same for him.

As always, I don't have the answers to any of these dilemmas. I don't even have a personal answer to the question of whether war is fundamentally right or wrong. I'm just thinking out loud and letting the world overhear.

human war and spiritual warfare: let's be honest about this

I read an article online today to which I prefer not providing a link. My reason for such recalcitrant (there's that word again!) secrecy is that I'm not sure I agree with many of the sentiments expressed in the article--or, rather, if I agree with the sentiments, I am quite sure I don't agree with the tone in which they are delivered. Either way, I don't think I want to have a link to the article on my blog, as I don't want anyone to associate me or my worldview with the attitude that comes through in the article.

However, I will let you know that the article was posted at lewrockwell.com, was written by one Lawrence Vance, and was dated June 12, 2008. Search for it if you so desire.

All of that said, I want to quote one particular statement from the article, a statement I find most true and telling:

"We hear more from the pulpit today justifying military intervention in the Middle East than we do about the need for missionaries to go there."

Does that hurt?

Does it hurt all of us who desire to follow Jesus?

Does it hurt any of us?

Does it prick our conscience at all?

It should. Because it's the truth.

a meeting of cultures at war

Well, I’m still sick, but am feeling better. Monday, I finally broke down and went to the doctor. When I told her that I’d wanted to try getting rid of this without antibiotics, she looked at me and said, “Considering your sinuses, I wouldn’t recommend that.” So I’m meekly taking my medicine (clarithromycin) as the doctor ordered.

Something else I want to write about, though. This is something I’ve wanting to write about for a long time, but I always forget. Well, this time, I told myself that I was going to follow through and not let these thoughts just fade from my mind!

Today (Tuesday), Ed and I had to go downtown to the Ausländerbehörde (Foreigners’ Office) so that I could get my new visa stuck in my passport, since my old one expired today. Nothing like last-minute, right? ;o) Anyway, on the way home, we stopped at Galerie Roter Turm (“Red Tower Gallery”), which is a downtown shopping mall. There, we ate lunch at Kervansaray (I think that’s how it’s spelled, anyway), our favorite Turkish place.

We’ve been going to this place fairly regularly for quite awhile, long enough for the guy who works there to know what we want before we order it. We always have great conversation with him. He’s really friendly, outgoing; and if there isn’t a horde of other customers, he’s always happy to take a few minutes to chat with us. He told us to call him “Joe,” saying that his real name is too long and complicated.

Shortly after we started eating regularly at Kervansaray, we found out that Joe isn’t actually Turkish. He’s Iraqi.

Joe always has something interesting to share with us. I’m not sure how long he has lived in Germany, but it’s long enough that he can communicate effortlessly in German. He has family all over the world: an uncle in Australia, another relative (I think) in Canada, and his mother and one of his sisters still live in Iraq. He hasn’t been back to Iraq in two years because travel there has become too dangerous.

His news about his homeland always interests me a lot. He calls his mother about once a week. He always worries about his mother and sister because their city, Kirkuk, is plagued by terrorist activities. Car bombs are a particular danger. His mother’s house has no more windows because bomb concussion has broken all of them. They can’t go out at night because there’s an after-dark curfew.

Joe talks about how the last time he was in Iraq, he passed through a checkpoint guarded by American soldiers. He wanted to try talking with them, but his English isn’t good enough. And this is the crux of the matter, the reason I am writing about this: Joe likes Americans. He thinks it’s past time for American troops to be out of Iraq…but he likes Americans. He likes us.

As their countries remain locked in war, two Americans and an Iraqi have peaceful, pleasant, open conversation, making friends with each other…in German. ;o) Not only that, but the two Americans are Christians, the Iraqi is Muslim, and on occasion they even mention religion and are able to find a few plots of common ground.

This is one of those situations I take as proof that in spite of all the evil things happening in this world, there are still some things that are good and right.

I’m thankful that God crossed our path with Joe’s. He’s a good reminder that no matter where you go, no matter the apparent evidence to the contrary, there are still open, friendly, warm people who try to brighten the corner of the world where they are.
Ed and I want to try inviting Joe and his wife over for dinner. I have no idea if they will accept…but we want to get to know them better. Who knows what God might do? :o)