My own two hands - who can make this world a better place? (and an update)

(Two months' worth of thoughts from Jeff, and a general update, plus some nice pictures!)

I've had a song in my head over the past few days, perhaps ironically.  It is a song we received as a gift on a CD made by our good friend Brandi Bates, a musical and literary genius who lives a life close to the earth, and close to the question of what can be done with her own two hands, in the shadow of the beautiful Carpathian mountains in Romania.  The song, "With My Own Two Hands," goes like this:

"With My Own Two Hands"
(Jack Johnson, featuring Ben Harper - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KlLchBxn0pw)

I can change the world
With my own two hands
Make it a better place
With my own two hands
Make it a kinder place
With my own two hands
With my own
With my own two hands
I can make peace on earth
With my own two hands
I can clean up the earth
With my own two hands
I can reach out to you
With my own two hands
With my own
With my own two hands
I'm going to make it a brighter place
With my own two hands
I'm going to make it a safer place
With my own two hands
I'm going to help the human race
With my own two hands
With my own
With my own two hands
I can hold you
With my own two hands
I can comfort you
With my own two hands
But you've got to use
Use your own two hands
Use your own
Use your own two hands
With our own
With our own two hands
With my own
With my own two hands

My, your, our - own two hands.  Can we change the world, make it a better place?

I say this song is in my head "perhaps ironically" because of the content of many discussions that have arisen in the courses I am teaching in Budapest this fall.  Reading tough books, deep books, books that ask big questions about the brokenness of humanity, of the natural world, and of each of our own hearts - these can leave one wondering about the actual potential of one's weak and broken "own two hands."  (* see below for a brief and incomplete list of the books we have read together) 

With a group of 16 students, we have explored limits, our limits in terms of bringing the world closer to God's Shalom, but also limits in the depth to which we can each get to know each other, this city, this country, this continent for all of the wonders of each of these places.  And the truth we all keep bumping up against in this discussion is the ancient human truth that we, all of us, are severely limited in what we can do to make the world a better place.

In mid-September in Sarajevo, I went with Abi to a gallery exhibition remembering the July, 1995 mass execution of 8,000 + men and boys in Srebrenica, in the northeast of Bosnia. This was three months before my first child was born, and while I remember reading about it at the time, I don't remember any associated feelings.  We have talked this semester a lot about numbness in the face of evil.  What can I do with my own two hands?

In October in Romania, on a visit to our good friends the Bates as well as Jack and Kelly Organ, and the staff of the New Horizons Foundation, we learned about the effects of what Dana Bates called the largest social science experiment ever carried out in the history of the world, known as Communism, on Romanian culture and people - an inability to trust, a frayed social fabric, rampant corruption...  And we learned about a counter-effort, a thriving NGO, the New Horizons Foundation, and its efforts to come alongside the Romanian Orthodox church, to strengthen civil society through service-learning activity, leadership and youth development, trust-building camps and clubs, and employability efforts for youth.  Our group spent a gorgeous day out in the woods climbing on ropes and learning to trust each other a bit more.  We later broke bread at the Bates home, an experience in the warmth of community that never fails to provide me with images of what Shalom might one day look like.  It was inspiring.  At least for a weekend, it seemed like perhaps our hands can make a difference.  But even in the presence of such a dynamic and growing effort, there were still clear images in the Romanian cityscapes and countryside reminding us of the limits of even the best efforts.

Abi, Julie, Jeff, Brandi, Briana, Dana and Gabriel

Moving forward, we had a brief weekend respite for "fall break," a trip with seven students, two alumnae, and our family - back to Dubrovnik, Croatia.  It was every bit as beautiful as we remembered it, and we toured the city, rested, and even spent a morning kayaking around a secluded bay nearby.  It was nice.

Julie in Dubrovnik

More recently, we have spent a fair amount of time contemplating death.  Morbid, I know.  On October 31, we took a tour at the New Public Cemetery in Budapest, visiting the gravesite of many of the martyrs of the 1956 Hungarian Revolution, and pondering the Catholic tradition of visiting the grave sites of parents and relatives on this All Saints weekend.  

Then last weekend we went with the group on an excursion to Krakow, Poland, and we toured the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp.  It rained, adding an appropriate layer of discomfort to an already difficult place to be.  The questions of what we can do with our own two hands, in the face of the realities of the history of this grim place, are overwhelming.  It is simply impossible to fathom the numbers, the pain, the memories of those who survived, the magnitude of a tragedy that has defined evil now for nearly a century.  And yet, it matters to witness, to learn, and to remember. Hearts are heavy as we all process the depth of human evil, and process the fact that we are all human beings, and human beings committed these atrocities, and suffered under them.  

Birkenau

These are the places we've gone outside of Hungary.  In the spirit of a full update, a treat for those of you who've read this far, below is a list of other places we've gone and things we've seen, and people we've met this fall:

- the amazing Budapest Zoo (over a million visitors a year!)

- a birthday party at the home of Lena Vida, a student at Károli Gáspár Reformed University, and a most excellent Hungarian guide and friend to us and our students

- we saw the film, Boyhood, at one of the most beautiful theaters we have ever been in, the Uránia

- the musical fountain on Margaret Island (incredible at night!)

the fountain at night

- I ran the Budapest Half-Marathon with two students, and all three of us finished in under two hours

- we welcomed the Bovens, Greg and Ruth, to Budapest for a lovely weekend in September

- the Szechenyi Baths

- multiple trips to the top of Gellert Hill, and to the Castle district, from which you can see the majesty of the city of Budapest

- The nearby cities/towns of Vac, Szentendre, Visegrad, Esztergom, Balatonfuhred, Tihany, Siofok, and Balaton-Vilagos

- We welcomed Betsy and Aaron Winkle, and Jeffrey and Lisa Schra, with their families, from Klaipeda, Lithuania and Vienna, Austria for a fun week in October

- We hosted a visit from Calvin colleague Don DeGraaf this past week

- Together Don and I attended part of a conference on "Calvinism Today" hosted by the Hungarian Reformed Church, and Károli Gáspár Reformed University 

- We have enjoyed worshipping, attending Bible Study, and rekindling friendships at St. Columba's Church

- I have met nearly weekly with Zoltan, a good friend, and our source of insight into all things Hungarian

- nearly every day we walk, bike, or run past the Hungarian Parliament building, one of Europe's architectural treasures, literally a few steps outside our front door

Parliament at night

- this past week for our church's "pub group," we met and talked with Dawid Kulyer, South African pastor, and a contributor to the writing of the Belhar Confession

- We toured the Museum of Fine Arts for an afternoon

- We toured the Hungarian National Museum

- As a class we took a socio-cultural tour of the historic eighth district of Budapest, discovering hidden treasures, in the city and in each other

- We returned for a morning to the Ecseri Flea Market, looking for treasure

- We met the niece of our friend Peggy Goetz, Lizzy DePew, visiting from a semester in Rome, and were impressed with the features of the Rome Semester at the University of Dallas

- I have had the privilege of partnering with 8 organizations, mostly schools, who are hosting our students for weekly service-learning activity, mostly centered around helping students practice speaking English

- I've run about 200 miles, and biked about 200 miles since arriving - getting to see the city in its morning beauty and trying to stay in decent shape

- and much much more.  

As the days get dark earlier and earlier, we are reminded of lots of things.  Advent is coming.  Our time here is limited.  We actually live life somewhere else.  Being somewhere other than your 'home' for longer than a couple of weeks, in our case five months, can play tricks on your sense of place, and your thoughts of home.  In some ways we long for our home, our friends, our language, our church, familiar things, every day.  In other ways we imagine what life might be like if this became our home.  And we remember that home is a relative term - signifying a feeling, people, place/s, a geographic location, and many places in our hearts and minds.  We're trying, as always, to live "every every minute."  

And in the midst of the darkness, we see light, and we hope for a light that drives out darkness.  Meanwhile we "kick at the darkness," and we keep on working, worshiping, living, and failing, "with our own two hands."

Peace, friends.


*Patty Lane, Crossing Cultures: Making Friends in a Multi-Cultural World; Peter Maass, Love Thy Neighbor: A Story of War; Steven Galloway, The Cellist of Sarajevo; Slavenka Drakulić, How We Survived Communism and Even Laughed; Julian Rubinstein, Ballad of the Whiskey Robber ; Otto Friedrich, The Kingdom of Auschwitz; Art Spiegelman, Maus; Imre Kertész, Kaddish for an Unborn Child; Magda Denes, Castles Burning: A Child’s Life in War; James Davison Hunter, To Change the World: The Irony, Tragedy and Possibility of Christianity in the Late Modern World; Charles Marsh, The Beloved Community: How Faith Shapes Social Justice, from the Civil Rights Movement to Today; Charles Marsh and John Perkins, Welcoming Justice: God’s Movement toward Beloved Community; Sabina Alkire and Edmund Newell, What Can One Person Do?: Faith to Heal a Broken World; David Bornstein, How to Change the World: Social Entrepreneurs and the Power of New Ideas; Vincent Harding, Hope and History: Why We Must Share the Story of the Movement; Steven Garber, Visions of Vocation: Common Grace for the Common Good; Michael Himes, Doing the Truth in Love: Conversations about God, Relationships, and Service; Bill McKibben, Oil and Honey: The Education of an Unlikely Activist (Oh, does that seem like a long list to you?  It does to my students too.)

I Love Lars

This blog post isn't really about Hungary or Budapest.  But it is about life.

Last night we invited the students to our apartment for a movie night.  Though Budapest has plenty of wonderful places for them to explore every time they step out of their dorm, we like to offer them a chance to be in a home for a while.  We brought a couple of our favorite movies with us from home and decided to watch Lars and the Real Girl.  Jeff popped up some of his world-famous popcorn (okay, maybe not world-famous; but I repeat my assertion that it was worth marrying him if all I got out of it was the popcorn...), and we snuggled in to watch the movie.  Really snuggled.  When you put approximately 20 people in this small apartment, space is at a premium.

As we watched Lars, I remembered why I love this movie so much.  I am guessing that many of you who read this will already know this movie.  But just in case, for those who don't know it, here is the summary.  Lars is a twenty-something young man who has already experienced that life and people are fragile.  Fearful of that fragility, but needing the contact that we all do, Lars invents the adult equivalent of an imaginary friend - he orders a sex doll from the internet.  If you've seen the movie, you know that Lars is a true gentleman and that, though odd, his relationship with Bianca is filling a psychological and spiritual need, not a sexual one.  If you've not seen the movie, then you probably feel about Lars and his relationship with the "real girl" the same way his family, friends and community do. "He what?" "That's weird." "What's the matter with him?" "I can't go along with this!" As the movie progresses, his community learns with the help of some very wise people to show Lars that he is loved and accepted just the way he is by accepting his relationship with Bianca.

So, why do I love this movie? Because of three scenes.  (At least.  But I'll limit myself to three.)

Scene 1
Gus, Lars' older brother, is very embarassed by Lars' behavior. Their mother died when Lars was just a baby, they were raised by their broken-hearted and distant father, and Gus, as the older brother, has always felt responsible for Lars.  Gus feels like Lars' break with reality doesn't really reflect well on him, but he resists the (self-imposed) idea that it might be his fault.  Until he can't resist it anymore, and confesses to his wife:

I left home as fast as I could. You know? I never thought about him. And then the two of us move back here all fat and happy, and he moves into the goddamn garage like the family dog. You know? And I let him. No wonder he goes and orders a fiancee in a box.

His wife calls him over and embraces him, because what is there to say?

Scene 2
Lars asks Gus how you know when you are a man.  Gus is uncomfortable talking about much with Lars, and he tries to get out of answering this, but when Lars presses him, he comes up with this beauty:

It's not like you're all one thing or the other, okay? There's still a kid inside, but you, you, you grow up when you decide to do right, okay?  And not what's right for you, what's right for everybody, even when it hurts...Like, you don't jerk people around.  And, and, and you don't cheat on your woman, and you take care of your family, and you admit when you're wrong, or you try to, anyways.  That's all I can think of, you know? It sounds like it's easy, and for some reason it's not...
It's like the old man.  He didn't have to take care of two kids alone. He could have given us to an orphanage or something. People do that. But he loved us, and he tried to do right even though he didn't know how and even though he had a broken heart...I shouldn't have left you alone with him. He was too sad. It scared me, and I just...I ran. And that was selfish. And I'm sorry.

There are not many things in this world more beautiful than that scene.

Scene 3
Lars is feeling sorry for himself because Bianca is getting too busy as friends take Bianca places in an effort to help Lars understand how life with a "real girl" really works.  Lars lets loose some of his negativity on Karin, his sister-in-law, who knew even before Bianca showed up that Lars was struggling and has been reaching out to him consistently, trying to bring him back to the land of the living.

Lars: She's my girlfriend and I shouldn't have to check a schedule to see her!
Karin: Are you okay?
Lars: How would she feel if I just left her? If I just abandoned her like that?
Karin: Whoa, wait. She didn't abandon you. She'll be back.
Lars: How do I know that, huh? People do whatever they want. They don't care.
Karin: No, we all care. Lars, we do care.
Lars: No, you don't.
(And then Karin loses it.)
Karin: That is...That is just not true! God! Every person in this town bends over backwards to make Bianca feel at home. Why, why do you think she has so many places to go and so many things to do, huh? Huh? Because of you! Because all these people love you! We push her wheelchair. We drive her to work. We drive her home. We wash her. We dress her. We get her up, we put her to bed. We carry her. And she is not petite, Lars. Bianca is a big, big girl. None of this is easy for any of us, but we do it...we do it...aghh...we do it for you! So don't you dare tell me how we don't care!

And that is why I love Lars.  Because I am Lars.  I don't have an imaginary friend.  But I have other breaks with reality.  They're not as obvious as toting around a life-size doll, but they are just as burdensome to my husband, my children, my parents, my siblings, my friends, my co-workers, my faith family.  They put up with the burdens I insist they carry when I refuse to let go of my distorted view of reality.  They don't do it because it's easy. Sometimes it's embarrassing to them.  But they do it because they love me. There is no greater gift they could give me.

"Bear one another’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ." Galatians 6:2
 

Making meaning, and walking humbly

Cameras.  Laptops.  Smart phones.  Facebook.  Instagram.  Snapchat.  Conversation.  Observation. Eyes.  Ears.  Mouth. Nose.  Hands.  Language.  Culture.  History.

I have been thinking alot about interpreting the world lately.  Or making meaning.

It helps that my daily routine for the past five weeks has been experienced in a place where I have very minimal access to the language people around me use to make meaning, to live, and to communicate.  This limited access to language is generally a negative, or an unfortunate thing, I would argue, but it does have a positive side. Recognizing the down side is an important place to start, I think, but not the place to dwell.

One upside of my inability to speak or understand much Hungarian is a heightened use of non-verbal language, I am paying closer attention to context in my environment, in people's faces and body language, and in their tone of voice.  Daily interaction with people on the street, with shopkeepers, and with Hungarians speaking English with me as a second- or sometimes third- or fourth language requires that I look and listen closely beyond their spoken words. This helps me listen more carefully, and think more carefully about words that I use, and how I use them.

In a reading assignment this week from Patty Lane's book Crossing Cultures: Making Friends in a Multicultural World, Lane describes a primary cross-cultural problem that most people encounter, or are guilty of, something called "misattribution."  Misattribution is the common mistake of ascribing meaning to someone else's actions or words based on one's own cultural or experiential lens.  Especially without access to language, I am sure that I am guilty of a broad scale of misattribution as I navigate the cultural landscape of Budapest, both on a tourist level, but more importantly on a professional level.  I have visited a dozen schools in Budapest as I work to place Calvin students in service-learning placements, and I have developed ideas about what is going on in these very foreign places.  In truth, I mostly have no idea.  I have met with numerous academic colleagues from a variety of universities in Hungary, and I am intrigued by their "normal," which I have trouble comprehending even though my conversations with them is exclusively in English.  My students and I regularly make observations about the city, its patterns and activity, and the presence or absence of familiar things and places that demonstrate a tendency toward misattribution.  My favorite example, one that I shared with the group on one of their first days in Budapest, is from one of David Livermore's good books on Cultural Intelligence - Livermore shares the story of a high school student's journal, where he/she proclaims that "airplanes don't take off in India when it is raining."  Based on his/her one experience of a runway delay, when it happened to be raining, this student decided that the people of India as a whole had not figured out the uniquely American skill of flying airplanes in the rain.  A humorous tale, but one that helps me remain humble in my proclamations of understanding while living in Hungary.

I have a StreetFest t-shirt with the well-known words from the prophet Micah on it, "Walk humbly, do justice, and love mercy."  I was wearing it last week when a man stopped me, (clearly a tourist, who turned out to be a judge from Queensland) he wanted to know what I thought of the message on my shirt.  We had a pleasant exchange, and he shared with me that this verse is the main theme of the Christian Legal Society in Queensland, and I shared with him why I appreciate the prophetic words from Micah for their reminder to us of the importance of walking humbly.  This is the posture that I think best for making meaning while studying, or teaching abroad.

The tools for making meaning are all around us, and some of them include the list above - the internet has provided access to other people's lives in ways that are incredible, instantaneous, dangerous, rewarding, devastating, and fun, all at the same time.  Our five senses should all be involved, too, of course.  Navigating this meaning-making landscape can be overwhelming, gratifying, and exhausting. Knowing when to turn on, when to turn off, how to pay full attention to the human beings right next to you, without losing contact with loved ones on the other side of the world requires a set of skills that takes time, and humility, to develop.

That's enough for now.  It is time to go visit with friends.  In person.  Peace.

Time Flies

We've been in Budapest for a month already. If the time we are spending in Hungary were a work week, we could cross Monday off on our calendar.  At my age this is how time usually moves, of course.  But I distinctly remember when we were here in 2011 how time seemed to have ground to a halt.  By the time we had been here a month, it felt like forever since we had left home and like forever until we would see it again.  Now it seems like this semester is going to fly by so quickly. 

I have a theory about this relative speed of time.  When everything is brand new to you (like it is when you're a young child), you pay attention to everything because you have to.  You don't know what is important and what is unimportant.  You don't know what comes next and when next will be.  So you are noticing and taking in everything, drinking from the proverbial fire hose.  But when you start to know a place, a schedule, a routine, you no longer concentrate on every little detail, word, and moment.  It's not necessary anymore.  Your attention is grabbed only by the things that deviate from the norm, and so time seems to flow by more quickly.  Well, that's my theory, anyway.

Some things that stand out in the last month:

Lena Vida and Nora Takács are two students from Károli Gáspár Egyetem (one of the universities where Calvin students study here).  They immediately got in touch with our family and spent time with us even before the students arrived.  They have done an amazing job of making the students feel welcome and at home.  Lena and her friends Zsolti and Bori helped introduce the students to some Hungarian folk culture on their very first day by performing some folk dances in traditional costume, and also taught us all a dance (or part of one, at least) whose name means "The Path of the Devil".

Lena even invited all of us to a surprise birthday party for her sister at their home in a town outside the city.  It was a beautiful evening with lovely people who extended very gracious hospitality to a large group of strangers. (You can read more about it from Abi's perspective here.)

Birthday party in Lena's backyard

Lunch with Kata Kallay, a Károli Gáspár professor and Calvin's liasion at the school.  She took us to a restaurant where she has her office hours because Károli Gáspár is squeezed for space and not all professors have private offices.  She is a wonderful, hospitable woman, and after hearing her describe her class on Holocaust literature, I wish I were a student here so I could take it.

An afternoon with Tibor Fabini and his wife Delinka at their lovely home in Budakeszi on the outskirts of the city.  Tibor is another Károli Gáspár professor, and Jeff had the pleasure of spending time with him in Grand Rapids when he was there for a conference in 2013.  We got to enjoy an afternoon looking out at the landscape from the patio of Tibor and Delinka's hillside home.

A lunch with Kati Fügedi, the woman who teaches our students basic Hungarian, at her home.  It was so fun getting reacquainted with Kati, remembering how forthright and opinionated she can be, and being treated to a good trouncing in the game of Scrabble by someone who really knows how to play.  (More about this experience from Abi's perspective: here.)

Dinner with our friends Zoltan and Andrea and their son, Peter.  We drove out of the city and into the area of the Pilis Mountains.  It's a beautiful area for hiking, and overlooks onto the Danube and into Slovakia.  We had time before our dinner reservation, so we drove a little further into Esztergom and got a quick look at the Esztergom Basilica, the largest church in Hungary and the seat of the Roman Catholic church in Hungary.  Just a little something to pass the time before dinner.  You know. 

Ceiling of the Esztergom Basilica

Dinner was a really nice time of getting caught up with Zoltan, Andrea and Peter.  We ate at an inn and restaurant called Kislugas which means "little trellis".  It had a simple, timeless feel as though we could have been in a scene from a fairy tale (if people in fairy tales drove cars and could order pizza).

Those are some of the highlights of the past month.  There have been many more grace-filled experiences, large and small, but I know that you can't spend all your time reading about my life even if you wanted to. I wish I could share it all with all of you whom we love, though, because that would make it all that much better.  Though we are quite obviously enjoying our time here, please know you are missed.

Second Time 'Round

What is it like to be back in Budapest?

Well, as you may have guessed, it is a lot easier being here for the second time.  While I wouldn't dare to say that I speak Hungarian, I recognize and remember a lot more Hungarian than I did the first time I arrived here.  We know how to get around and go to many of the places that we want to go.  Our first night here, I marveled at the fact that I knew where I was and how at home I felt when I woke up to use the bathroom.  Oh, the little things!

I find a lot things I'm experiencing falling into one of three categories:

• things that are the same
• things that are different
• things that are new 

The Same

I find Budapest to be as beautiful and enchanting as I did the last time.  I was not only remembering an idealized or romanticized version of this place.  St. Stephen's Basilica, Margit Island, the bridges, Castle Hill, the Parliament - all these and much more are lovely, lovely sights.

Some favorite places - Rose Gelarto (where the gelato is shaped into a rose on your cone) still has amazing flavors like Basil Lemon and Chili Dark Chocolate; the Belgian pub has wonderful beer, great atmosphere, and delicious risotto;  the stall at the market still has the same yogurt that we loved so much the last time - are just as good as we remember.

Hungarian friends, old ones and new ones, are amazingly kind and hospitable to us.  We've already visited two homes of Hungarian friends and had numerous social gatherings and been given many kinds of help.  Being in a different culture with a different language is always a good reminder of how dependent we are on others, and how many generous, giving people God puts in our lives.

The Different

Not surprisingly, however, in three years some things change.  Some changes are for the better.  Some changes disappoint.  Our neighborhood ABC (corner grocery store) was a delight to me last time.  Tucked into a very tiny space they had just about all your grocery basics.  Not a lot a variety or brands to choose from, but as opposed to US convenience stores, you could make a number of different meals from what you could buy there.  Now the ABC is half or less the size it was, and is no longer a tiny, adorable grocery store, but really just a convenience store.  Sigh.

A picture of the "magic fountain" in 2011

One of our favorite places near our apartment was a place we referred to as "the magic fountain".  It is a rectangular fountain that comes up out of the ground level.  When you step on the tiles just outside its edge, the jets right in front of you stop spouting allowing you to walk inside and through the (dry) center.  Unfortunately, a new and controversial monument has been erected just in front of this fountain, turning what was a fun place to beat the heat into a place generating its own entirely different kind of heat.  (For an explanation of the controversy, here is a link to an article that explains it: How Should Hungarians Remember World War II? )

Some of the changes for the better: the new, air-conditioned (!) cars on the red Metro line, the new pedestrianized area in front of Parliament, the opening of areas that were under construction the last time we were here (replaced, of course, by the closing of areas that are under construction now).

The New

There is a new Metro line - the number four green line.  Oooh, shiny.

We now have a whole new set of Calvin College students.  The students were such a huge part of the positive experience we had as part of this semester in 2011 that we couldn't help wondering how a new group could possibly compare.  This is the situation that faces most educators every year, of course.  This year's students have only been here a little over a day, but they are already showing us, reminding us that the supply of wonderful, thoughtful, inquisitive, fun and funny people is pretty much endless.  No comparison is necessary, really; just an openness to receive the new experience God is handing out.

Probably one of the nicest things about being in Budapest for a second time is that this time we have memories.  Many places we go, I find myself thinking or saying, "Remember?  This is where...

...we saw that dog wearing a leather bomber jacket.
...that lady was yelling at me to move out of the way and I didn't realize it because I don't speak Hungarian.
...they stayed.  It was so great having them here.
...we had dinner with him.
...we had such a fun night with them. (Do you know who you are? I think you know who you are...)

And that may be the best thing about being here again:  the reminder of how faithful God is to me, wherever I am.  "Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." Lamentation 3:22, 23 

Relationships, Revelation, and Responsibility

We have been in Budapest for six days now, having left Grand Rapids a week ago.  And in the week here, we have been re-acquainting ourselves with this city - with its beauty mostly, but also with its difference, the smells, the unfamiliar language, the change in time zone, the many different customs and quirks.  I have had a few meetings with colleagues who will help me with the work of directing the program, I set up a new bank account, visited the dorm the students will stay in, re-connected with Hungarian friends, I ran three times for a total of about 15 miles - up and down the Danube and around Margaret Island - and I have done a fair amount of reading in preparation for the teaching part of this work.

I read one of our key texts, Steven Garber's book Visions of Vocation: Common Grace for the Common Good, and in this book my friend Steve writes about how difficult it is for people in this time in the history of the world to simultaneously both know and love the world.  He offers three realities that he says always mark covenants when they appear in the Hebrew scripture - these realities are: Relationships, Revelation, and Responsibility.  In covenant-making, God always offers the people of God a relationship first, then a revelation, and finally a responsibility.  To God's people, God gives us promises, but also expects their response - a particular responsibility to act in the face of what we know, what we have learned.  There is more than tourism to study abroad, much more.  This fall I will work to introduce students to this balance - in our time in Eastern Europe, I expect that God will offer each of us an ongoing relationship, a revelation that is both special and general, as well as a set of responsibilities - some things to do with our knowing.  We will learn things both wonderful and terrible, as students always do.  And we will respond somehow.

Yesterday we took a long walk with the three of us around some of Central Pest's more interesting sites, and Abi took pictures along the way.  She caught some good essence of Budapest in our journey - I'll share a few of her pictures here:

This one is inside one of the more famous "ruin bars" of Budapest, SzimplaKert;

 This is Raday street, where we stopped for a beverage break on our walk;

 Julie and me inside Szimpla;

 Abi on a bench near our apartment;

 Our marketplace around the corner - Belvaros Piac translates Downtown Market;

 The famous Budapest Opera House, about a ten minute walk from our apartment

We have another week of getting ready ahead - I hope to meet with some contacts for the students' service-learning placements, do some more reading, get an orientation planned for students, meet with the Hungarian language professor, and continue to plan and pray for the semester ahead.

Return to the Danube

Once again on a Sunday morning in early August we have trunks and suitcases packed, and we are off to Budapest, Hungary.  We will live in the same apartment, become reacquainted with the city and friends we have made there, welcome a group of Calvin students to an off-campus learning semester, and experience cross-cultural living for the fall semester.

As we prepare to head out, we note that our flowers are just about at their peak around the garden beds - the cosmos, zinnias, sunflowers, cone flowers, day lilies, cannas, rudbeckia, hydrangeas, geranium, fuchsia, sweet potato vine, and oxalis.  We've only had a few of our cherry tomatoes, and none of our heirloom black krim are ripe yet.  We'll miss these glory days of August, though this way we don't have to watch the flowers fade away, and we won't miss raking leaves.

We will miss friends, many of whom have gone well out of their way to send us off with care - we've been in your homes, we've met at local places for breakfast in the morning, or for local craft beers in the evening, and we will miss you.  Keep in mind you have a place to stay in Budapest.

We will miss our boy, Bastian, who will not join us until after he finishes his first semester at Calvin College - we'll stay there for Christmas.  Thanks to the many of you who have offered to check in on him, or drop him off at college.  It takes a village, a church, a great group of friends to raise a child, and we're grateful to have such a great community to trust him to as we go.

So follow us if you like - we'll be back, Deo volente, God willing -  in a hundred fifty days, just in time to close out the year.  Meanwhile, we are off this afternoon, arriving in Budapest tomorrow afternoon.

Peace.