the adventures of peter james

Christmasy/Wintery pics and a newfound love for technology

2011-01-11T06:00:00.000-08:00

It's been a while, sorry. I'll give you a quick update. I am still writing a dissertation. Yup. That's what I'm doing, still. But, hey, I don't mind. I am hoping to be done the major part of writing by May. Fingers crossed and prayers said.

Otherwise, things are relatively the same.

I will say, I have a newfound love for technology. I had some problems with my body this Christmas season, and waited and waited like most fearful Americans do to go to the doctor. [my doc told me Germans go about ten times a year.] Finally went and found out it was a bladder infection.... I had feared the worse: more kidney stones. That said, the checkup involved this beautiful machine-thing called ultrasound. You know, like when they look at babies. Well, I got to see if I had any stones in the good 'ole kidnos, and guess what? Nothin'. That's right. For years I had in the back of my mind that there was still a stone lingering in there from the first round of kidney stones I had. But, nothing. Beautiful. Gotta keep drinkin' that water.

Ok, enough of the disgusting stuff. Hope you enjoyed a little insight into my urinary life. That one's free. but next time...

Here are some pictures I took of Erfurt and Gotha this winter. Thought you might enjoy them.

This first one is of Erfurt's Weihnacht markt... it was a virtual amusement park. Take note of the cathedral in the background being drowned out by Christmas fun:

Here's a few of Gotha:

Some music for you!

2010-12-09T11:33:00.000-08:00

Well, I journeyed back to Mainz this past weekend to play a little music for the Kirche in Aktion (Mainz) folks. [I've posted the videos below]. Guess who else showed back up in my life. ZOLTAN!!!! Remember him?

Prague and more...

2010-12-03T05:10:00.000-08:00

This past weekend, I met Kristi in Prague for our long-awaited trip to Prague. The city was beautiful, the people...well. Let's just say, I received my share of unfriendliness, even as I attempted to speak as a native. (that could, of course, have also been the source.)

Other than the terrible hostel (named Crib 15), the weekend was a lot of fun. On Friday we enjoyed the local sounds and spirits. This is the now infamous "Rusty Circle" who played at a nearby establishment.

Kristi enjoyed a dance with a stranger.

On Saturday, we made our way around the city, from the castle/mansion to Jan Hus' Bethlehem Chapel to the man playing a strange instrument.

One of the best experiences was eating at Chilli Lili's....an excellent place for coffee and food! If you're in Prague, go there!

I guess I should end with two pictures. The first is for you, o beloved parents, so that you can see what your son has become.

The second is my first attempt at catching Gotha during Christmas.... more to come, but right now I need to get ready for another trip to Mainz and another small set of songs to sing.

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

2010-11-25T13:57:00.000-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving to all those of you out there! I spent the afternoon enjoying a great T-day meal at the Gockel Cafe. Yumm yummm.

long timey...no talkey....

2010-11-23T12:55:00.000-08:00

Yes, folks. The faithful writing you were accustomed to last year is gone. I've become officially a "bad blogger." So, let's make a deal. I am going to do my best to write something at least twice a month. If I do more, let's just say I've hit a hot streak.... but let's not get our hopes up.

Monday it snowed for the first time this winter. (Is it officially winter?) Here are some glorious testimonies to the winter wonder:

I must say, there is something to snow. It always lifts my spirits. I suppose at this moment, being in Germany, the joy is that snow means it's not raining. But there is also something beautiful to the way it works; the way snow mimics forensic justification... yup, just went there. Well, if that's too much. The way snow recalls Paul's words that we are clothed in Christ by faith.

I need a dryer. Simple as that. I spend one day every two-ish weeks staring at my clothes drying on a rack in the middle of my small apartment. I need a dryer. Something that gives me the security that I don't smell like mildew. That's the biggest problem I have with my singleness. I can't tell anymore if I smell. I mean, I tend to lean toward the "Peter always smells" side of life. But, I really can't tell. I can tell when I am talking to myself. That's easy. But smelliness.... not so easy.

The past month has been filled with traveling. Kristi met me in Mainz, and we did a little concert for the KiAMainz people at the Komoto Cafe. It was a lot of fun. (check the videos below) The next weekend I got a phone call from Anemone from KiAFrankfurt. On Wednesday I was on a train, and that evening I played a real-deal concert at the Berliner Bar. I played till I was repeating songs. It was TONS of fun. They loved it. I loved it. Too bad the videos didn't come out. (I've posted a photo for proof.) Who would of thought I would be playing my music in German bars? Not me. They've asked me if I'd like to come back and play in a cafe grand opening in January and again at the Berliner Bar. Definitely. [I might even have the chance to get in a studio!]

the Berliner Bar

Monday I sent out an application to be a teaching fellow at the ECLA in Berlin. Man I would love this one. But it is truly testing my faith. Worry and doubt have crept in. [oh, and sorry mom, this might mean I spend another two years in Germany, but look on the bright side: I'll probably visit more than I did while in Iowa.)

ok....nothing much more to say. Spending Thanksgiving in Prague. ...sure hope I don't get my pockets picked. ...stinkin' Czechs!

Vienna, Erfurt, and Eisenach

2010-11-04T04:17:00.000-07:00

You know how they say a picture's worth a thousand words. Well I am going to see how that will play out. I am really doing a bad job with this blog as of late...feeling a little guilty....but not enough to make any extensive commentary on the last three weeks of my life. Here's the important points:

I visited Vienna and met Kristi, Shannon, and Nancy there
I finished a chapter of my dissertation! (half-way there, folks)
I decided to make a Reformation weekend pilgrimage and visited Erfurt (where Luther was a student) and Eisenach (which includes the Wartburg where Luther translated the New Testament)

So, first Vienna:

And then we have Erfurt...

I secretly climbed up into the Augustinerkloister pulpit...well, 'cause this is where Francke preached before he got chased out of town.

lastly, here's a little bit of Eisenach (where a young lady sat down to eat with me, but unfortunately she sat down right as the waitress came to take my money...so our short romance ended in a bit of awkwardness.) Oh the house is where Luther stayed as a student for a short time.

Hiking in the Wald and a bean bag chair.

2010-10-20T08:02:00.000-07:00

Again, I'm two weeks (or so) behind. I have my reasons... like a chapter that was supposed to be done last week. But, I thought I would give you a peek at the hiking I did in the Thueringer Wald a few weekends ago. I jumped on the street train and made my way up to Tabanz. A small "mountain" town. From there I roamed some of the beautiful hills. Reminded me a ton of my parent's place; made me a bit reminiscent. Here are some pics:

AND! I finally got a read chair. Well, not exactly a chair. A beanbag chair. But it's perfect. I also got to ride in a "Smart" car. Thea, my good friend from Halle was passing by and decided to be a help transporting the beanbag chair back to my apartment. ...it barely fit in the trunk. (Can I actually call it a trunk?)

To Munich and Back

2010-10-04T03:25:00.000-07:00

Yeah, yeah. I am at least two weeks behind on this blogging thing. Sorry. I have no good excuse except that I've grown complacent in a lot of things, the blog included. So, what can tell you first? Hmmmm. Two weeks ago I visited Muenchen with Kristi. She needed an escape from Vienna, and I needed an excuse. Perfect.

We arrive at Dascha's apartment (a friend from the IEG) on Friday and spent all of Saturday in the bustling American....ummm, I mean German city. (Sooo many Americans....sooo many.)

Anyway, we had a lunch break at the Oktoberfest. It had forgotten it was the 200th anniversary, and I had also forgotten the thing had become an amusement park for drunken people. Regardless, we enjoyed a "Maß" and a plate of potato pancakes. Both were yummy.

We wandered around the city afterwards, taking in the gardens and all the other touristy things, including Starbucks.

So, adventure accepted, adventure conquered.

OOOH. And we made this amazing video:

gone fishin'

2010-09-20T05:01:00.001-07:00

I went fishing!!!!
http://trouttales.blogspot.com/2010/09/fly-fishing-in-germany-part-apfelstadt.html

the Augustinerkirche, Gotha

2010-09-15T07:43:00.000-07:00

So I finally went to a church service in a traditional (holding that term loosely) Landeskirche of Germany. I don't think I psychologically held out until I was in Gotha, where Francke himself preached and grew up and where Luther declared the gospel. I just think it worked out that way.

I went to the service offered by the quiet Lutherans at the Augustinerkirche. Include me, there were probably about 25 people in attendance, and you would believe even that many were there if you heard them sing. Now, I don't want to short-change the gentleman sitting behind me... he could sing. But, the rest didn't follow his lead.

I came in, sat down, listened to a sermon in which none of the foundational doctrines of Lutheranism were expounded (how much better condition our churches would be in if we did!), and left without a simple hello from a parishioner or pastor (who shook my hand on the way out). Sad.

The church is, nevertheless, beautiful. And it contains two paintings of interest. I mentioned them in an earlier post, but I've taken better photos. So, below are pictures of Luther and Melanchthon, respectively, dressed by the artist in eighteenth century costumes. I could be wrong, I I don't imagine Luther ever wearing a white wig.

A seventeenth-century portrait of Martin Luther

A seventeenth-century portrait of Philip Melanchthon

Settled in Gotha

2010-09-10T08:09:00.000-07:00

I arrived in Gotha last Wendesday, and threw all my bags into the small Pension room I had reserved. The jetlag was still looming I still awaited two backpacks being sent by the German train service. Here's a picture I took of the stuff I was lugging along on the train. It was quite comical at times.

It took two days, and a brief visit to the "Platte" apartment building (the old communist block housing) to see that I was willing to pay a bit more for a little more homeliness. I decided on a small two room apartment: one includes the living/sleeping quarters and the other the kitchen/bathroom. Not much, but I don't pay much either.

I am a "Fellow" at the research library in town. It was established by the ruler Herzog Ernst in the seventeenth century, and now houses a ton of books and manuscripts. The library itself is located in the "castle" or "mansion" grounds.

Although you're not allowed to, I got permission to photograph the inside of the library. Every book, secondary or primary source, has to be ordered. I sit, work, and wait in one of these two rooms for the book to come, and then get busy "with it".

Here's the natural museum across the street

and here is a glance of the city.

The weekend is approaching and I thought I would head to the hills or into Erfurt. I have a lot on my heart and mind at the moment, so I might end up at a cafe working. Who knows.

back in the DDR...

2010-09-03T03:47:00.001-07:00

It feels good to speak German again. To be certain, the travels from Atlanta to Dublin were dreary, but once I switched over to the Frankfurt connection and found myself conversing in German, everything seemed to brighten a bit. I’m an addict.

I type this, nevertheless, very mindful of the jetlag that keeps dragging my eyelids down like an ocean riptide. But I can’t sleep. If I do, it’ll only be worse. Last time it felt like a week before I wasn’t tired. And just like in cars, I have the unfortunate inability to sleep while moving. So, the sever hours over the Atlantic were spent reading Dicken’s David Copperfield (amazing!), watching “Date Night” (worthy of a rental), and bearing through Kick A** (terrible in many ways, and definitely not heroic). So, my mental sleep-sensors and sinews are going crazy—“You should be snoring right now! Stupid Peter, don’t your remember the bounty of sleep.” Uhhg.

Kelly and Fraucke await me (hopefully) when I land. Then I’m off to see Anne, grab my packs, and set up some gatherings with my other Mainz friends.

On Wednesday I head to Gotha, with two possibilities of apartments. One that is more expensive, but more sensible in many ways and the other is an opportunity to live in a renovated communist-block building. Decisions, decisions, decisions.

Mid-summer's night post

2010-07-14T21:30:00.000-07:00

Camp is more than half-way finished, my body is toast, and I've eaten way too many candy bars-- not much different than any other summer.

I just sent the two book reviews I had committed to finishing in to the journal, so the only thing that stands between me and spending time with the staffers on my floor is a Valentin Loescher book. That shouldn't pose much of a problem. In fact, I've been able to get in some solid camp-free time-soccer the past few days. It felt good... except for the next-day soreness. The new-found freedom is kinda like back when I had summer breaks in seminary and camp (and camp stuff) was all I cared about.

Buff Bufferton made his final appearance at Wabanna last week. He told me the glamour of gamemastering had worn off. So he grabbed his badminton racket and walked off into the sunset. Goodbye Buff, goodbye.

Spending the Summer....

2010-07-01T21:38:00.000-07:00

Hey loyal readership.... sorry for the disappearing act. My excuse: I am serving at a summer camp. Time is of the essence, and my essence is being sweat out of my body by the ridiculous heat indexes of the Chesapeake Bay.

But, here's an update. Before leaving the comfy confines of the Institute, my comrades joined me for a classic grill-out. This is all I have to say. I was truly blessed by the group I lived with. Whether it was getting a Doener with Adam or annoying Kai with random questions about the language, I can only say I had some solid withdrawal after leaving. Thanks IEGers... for everything, especially my "don't hassle the Hoff" t-shirt. You made my first adventure more than I could ask.

Now, I'm at camp. I've fallen slightly behind on the dissertation, but I needed a break. Well, I say break, but I am currently writing two book reviews for a journal... so the break is only skin deep. This weekend will be spent getting the reviews typed up and sent to friends for inspection. Other than the Germany/Argentina soccer game, I'm looking forward for the chance to write in some semblance of quietness.

I don't know how much I'll be able to update the next few months, but be prepared: I am headed back to Germany for round #2... and if I have my way there will be a round #3 and #4.

Leaving Mainz, Part 1

2010-04-30T03:09:00.000-07:00

I know, I promised a Halle blog post, but I got lazy and the weather there was terrible. I froze most of the time. So, I am going to try to make up for it by posting once or twice before I leave for the States on Monday. ...that's right Monday. Wow.

Ok, but before I get into the present condition of my life, a little review is necessary. I did go to Halle, the hotbed of Pietist studies. And, though I froze the whole time, I did get some work done. First, I got a tattoo.

Yeah, yeah, it washed off a week later, but that was a big step for me. [Kristi D., you're much braver than I... but we already knew that.] The chance to tat' my forearm came during one of my lovely visits to Thea's house. Her daughter and I were playing around, and all of a sudden I had a wet cloth on my arm with a tattoo underneath. The one thing I will say, the rest of the time researching I kept looking at it. I don't know if the amusement lasts long, but if I wanted to have a constant reminder of ....say...the Cross, the forearm is apparently the most "remindful" place I could probably put it. And I need only remind you of this when it comes to the cool uses of tattoos.

As for the research, I got quite a bit done. I ended my time in the archive by reading through several sermons on baptism and grace. It gave me some extra footing in the sections I am currently writing on Francke's baptismal theology. Before looking at those sermons, I also transcribed a manuscript of one of Francke's few attempts at an English sermon. It appears from the introductory page that someone else translated it, but all in all whoever-it-was had decent English. I did, although, come away feeling a lot better about my German.

But I need your help. Here is the only word I am semi-unsure about in my transcription. First photo is the word, the second is its context.

Here is what the sentence looks like without the word: "Look into your selves you that make your boast in the Lord, prove and examine your selves, whether yee are in faith or noe, prove your own selves, if Christ in you, and look well to your ______, least yee be reprobrates."

What do you think? Take note of the shape of the last two letters, and find that a word with that same letter and compare them. Post comments as you feel necessary.

After the trip to Halle, I came back and took my fishing exam.

Needless to say after a few days of cramming and a whole lot of worrying, I passed and went fly fishing a week later (after getting all the loose bureaucratic ends tied). Here's my first official German trout.

With that said, I fly out on Monday, and plan on getting my fill of Germnanness before I leave. I have that sad-stomach feeling right now, but it's mixed with excitement for the next four months. Between seeing some great friends, working with da' chi'drens, and getting this chapter done, the time will be....well...

Luxembourg, The Delaware of Europe

2010-04-19T09:36:00.000-07:00

What can I say about Luxembourg? Hmmm. Well, if you rearrange the letters of this fine state you come up with “Rouge Bum XL”. That’s about the most excitement the city and state has offer….as of yet.

But I suppose I need to back-track a bit. Exactly why am I talking about Luxembourg? Well, about two-ish months ago Adam and I started throwing around the idea of visiting Delaware, ooooppps, I mean Luxembourg. Adam did all of the research and the motivating and I was essentially the wing-man of the whole thing. I sat around the institute waiting for Adam to initiate, and then I backed him in everything he said.... A true wingman.

Every possible chance we had to make the trip was rained out or postponed due to, well, stuff—really important stuff. But when we got word that Kai and his girlfriend rented a car and were headed there, the fire was stoked to near excitement. (Can a fire be stoked to such an extent? …for Luxembourg, absolutely). Nevertheless, the trip wasn’t certain. Kai rented one of those wind-up cars (the smart car), so we had to see if the rental company would up his vehicle to a four-seater.

The call came about 10am: “Be ready in ten minutes”. No problem. I had already been awake for fifteen. Within twenty minutes, or so, we were in some sort of European automobile speeding off, at exactly (and no more) than ten km faster than the speed limit, toward Luxembourg. Our faithful escort, Kai, is a good law-abiding man (heck he is pretty much as close to a good man as this world has), so rules were obeyed, limits maintained, directions followed…well, sort of.

We arrived in Luxembourg about 12pm, and after passing through what felt like the business/suburbia districts surrounding D.C. [you know, with the recently fabricated business offices, the grassy median, the shiny signs] Kai parked the car in an endless underground parking lot. None of us had ever been to Luxembourg, so how were we to know that the most important thing we’d see was going to be the first thing we encountered:

The ultimate playground!

…and don’t worry, I made sure to get on the masterpiece. Although, I was a bit intimidated by the security guard nearby making sure no strangers run off with kids. [I might be strange, and I might even steal a kid, but I CHOOSE NOT TO RUN.]

The rest of the city was, well, strange. We couldn’t really find a place that offered lunch for under 10 euros. So we settled for Mickey-D’s. I had a “Big Tasty” and well, it was both big and tasty. Sadly, at some point between paying, spinning around, walking out, spinning around, asking Kai to get me a straw, spinning around and walking out, spinning around and asking Kai to get me ketchup, and spinning again; I lost my fries on the floor. Dang it! Those things cost me 2.50 euros! Oh well. I ordered another batch, and Kai carried. That means they were eaten and not swept into the trash. Did I mention he was a good German.

Ok, so, scenery. There’s a market square. It was empty. There’s Notre Dame Cathedral; relatively empty. A fortification, which wasn’t empty: it had a river flowing through it.

I will admit, the cathedral has some pretty cool stone-work:

It also had this cool chapel (Quirinius) built into the side of the cliffs; cool beans.

Really the city itself was like a large town. It didn’t offer much to see. In fact we unknowingly walked several of the blocks two or three times. The city was so small, we were amazing that the “important building” [I don’t think we ever knew why it was important] necessitated a guard with, well, a water-gun.

He even marched. I think he did it to stave off boredom, or to show off his shiny water-gun. Seriously, that’s not a gun. I think it just shoots out a flag that says, “Welcome to Luxembourg” or “Please enjoy our green bean soup”. But exactly who could he shoot it at?

With all that said, the city was quaint and the fortifications were very interesting and beautiful. In fact, the city center wasn’t really worth visiting. If I was to tour Luxembourg again, I’d merely walk through the fortification.

Before heading home, we sat down in a small bar/café and had some Belgium beer. Leffe is now my favorite beer… until I drink a German one again. It was delicious. It reminds me why I cherish every bottle of New Belgium Brewery’s 1554. So good. I hope they’ve started exporting them to MD. If not, stink.

Last story to tell: We got back pretty late, and Adam and I needed to eat. Our choices? A Döner, more Mickey D’s, or Chinese…. We chose Chinese, raced down Augustinerstraße, and scarfed down several plates of what I would call semi-good Chinese food. The whole time I was thinking, “You know what would top off this day? Two kung fu fighters crashing through the wall and carrying on a fight around use as we enjoyed the variations of [stink in CHINESE THING HERE]. To top it off, I decided that not only should I knock over a flower-lamp-vase on my way out. After my normal sound effects, I believe my next question was “That’s only water right?” The waiter answered “No, oil”. Great

Now, I am back in the east. On a small Pietism Pilgrimage.

Before I sign off, here are a few important sights from the trip:

Really, this one needs no explanation:

Although, the Holy Ghost was just down the street

Oh yeah, and be careful when using the public bathrooms, some of them have windows for the cleaning ladies... I'm sure they didn't look while I was relieving myself.

Speaking of relief. Ghandi made an appearance.

Oh, yeah and we had some break dancers. They were true artists, dancing for themselves...'cause no one else was around!

rock-n-roll, castles, and cloisters

2010-04-07T15:58:00.000-07:00

Long absences from the world of blogging mean two things: 1) I am hard at work and busy with my various scholarly obligations or 2) laziness. To be honest, I can't tell the two apart these days. So, here's a mildly long update.

Last week was my breakout performance. I head-lined in a bar. Crowds cheered and women threw themselves at me. Ok, maybe not. But I did play at the Berliner Bar, which had been rented out by a church plant. So it was sort-of christianized. The room was packed, people applauded, and I was asked back for another round at the end of April. All good things. Here's some video of the event:

I made an amateur mistake on the last song and didn't take my time tuning the guitar. I dropped down to DADGAD (an open tuning) and was too rushed in my head to relax, turn on my tuner, and get it right. The result: I spent the whole song avoiding sounding as flat as the guitar. Too bad. I'll do my best to get it right next time.

In between the concert and today, well, I've done my best to get work done, and I've done my best to avoid working. The internet is increasingly becoming a problem. I am allowing it to distract me from reality and responsibility, and its impact on my normal way of life is becoming more and more obvious. I can't concentrate, can't stay still, and I am staying up until absurd hours. The problem reared its ugly head in the fall, and I took strides to pull away from the influence. But right now I am not motivated, just don't care that I am distracted. With that said, Sunday I had a "fast" from the computer, and this week is going somewhat better. I've gotten to a point in my research that I can start writing the next chapter on baptism. Tonight and tomorrow I'll be rereading and organizing my notes, and then it begins. [I continue to ask for your prayers on this chapter. First, that I would be able to get it done before June, allowing me to concentrate on camp, and second that I would see God's hand in the midst of this work that feels so self-centered and "worldly".]

I've been itching to visit a local castle these past few weeks, so this past Saturday I organized a little trip to Marksburg near Braubach. Adam [a fellow American] and Esther came along, and well, endured a bit of tourism.

First, Marksburg was pretty from a distance but disappointing up close. Most disappointing: you had to pay 5 euro to get in, and could only enter as a part of a tour group. Needless to say, we didn't pay the man. So, the shots I got on digital "film" were from the outer portions of the castle.

Still pretty, but not worth it. What was worth it? My roll with a fleischwurst. Yum!

To fill up the extra time Esther suggested, and I agreed heartily, that we head back and visit Ruedesheim. She mentioned something about a national monument [boring] and something about the cloister where Hildegard from Bingen worshiped [that's right Kristi...eat your heart out]. When I heard that, I was all in. What I didn't realize is that Ruedesheim had become a virtual tourist trap, with stores and stores of crap up and down the streets.

Though, this shirt was tempting. It reads "the devil wears diapers". A nice eschatological t-shirt.

So, without really understanding how far it was, we decided to make the trek to Hildegaard's cloister. How far was it. Well, it began with an uphill climb through vineyards.

Then continued with a short jaunt through the woods.

Then mild meander parallel to the Rhine... [note the towers in the distance]

...which finally brought us to the Benedictine Abbey of Hildegard. Wow. Real pretty. Unfortunately, it's not the original. The original was destroyed [for some reason] and this version was build during the turn of the 20th century. Still, real pretty.

I was hoping to get a picture of her burial place, but she's not buried at the cloister. I guess my pilgrimage will just have to go incomplete.

Speaking of incomplete. I am going to start recording German attempts at English, especially in the mode of spray paint. Here was the latest:

That's right folks. In case you were planning to do any camping: "Punk's not deat" ...and we're happy about that.

So, now it's back to work. I am planning a trip to Halle next week, so expect an update on the Pietist Pilgrimage stuff.

a brief one...

2010-03-28T15:14:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've written something here. I apologize for that. These past few weeks I've found myself "stressed" with so little going on around me. Yes, I spent a lot of time preparing for the first of two fishing exams, and yes, I've gotten a small amount done on the next chapter of the dissertation, but in all honesty I am stressed because it's come to a point where I feel useless. I am wrestling with being faithful.... I don't think I can fully describe it, but I am sitting here in Germany (where I can communicate in a semi-proficient way) and I can't remember the last time I talked to someone about the Lord or encouraged someone in their faith. The distressing point in all this is that I don't want to continue this whole degree if I am to be left in a small office somewhere whittling away on some second-rate book of theology. And yet, it is a real fear.

Maybe, just maybe, the Lord is giving me a taste of that life into which I could drift if left to my own devices. I don't know. But, I will say that I am struggling to be faithful, to relate with Christ is a real way, to see redemption in the smallest things. I don't think the struggle is bad, it's just that, well, I don't know. I am just barfing up my mind right now, like many of you have experienced with me over coffee or a beer.

So with that said, I am blessed. I took a long, long walk today and came away with the same thing I come away with every day. Wow, I am blessed. At the same time, I feel like I am in to some tragic "in-between," where I appreciate the "world" I am in, but I make no effort to care or maintain or cultivate the very life I am in contact with it. I am a parasite. That's it. That's what is most bothersome to me right now. Ok, now, what do I do about my parasitic life? good question.

In the last post I mentioned I played for KiAMainz... a little of my stuff and few hymns. Afterwards I was asked to play in Frankfurt, at the Berliner Bar for KiAFrankfurt. That's happening tomorrow. I am planning for a four or five song set. I've got the songs set out, and now I am searching for the heart to minister. ...trying to tear away the callousness of a parasitic heart.

and can I merely ask rhetorically, why is sara groves married? Devin reminded me (through a facebook status update) how amazing she is as a songwriter and musician. couldn't she just have waited for me?

SOMETHING CHANGED - SARA GROVES
Hochgeladen von rosichichi. - Sieh die neuesten vorgestellten Musikvideos.

doing the fishing thing... not really.

2010-03-15T18:05:00.000-07:00

I am sau-tired. So, I thought I'd merely point you to my weekend endeavors via the "other" blog:

www.trouttales.blogspot.com

After the fishing course on Sunday (not yet blogged) I played some songs at KiAMainz (again). It went worse than the first round of singing there two weeks ago (I forgot some lines), but I was asked to play at the end of the month in Frankfurt for the other KiA group. It'll be at the Berliner Bar. Any suggestions on a cover song? They asked that I sing "not too religious" songs. I was thinkin' of covering Elvis' "Little Sister" or Warren Zevon's "Lawyers, Guns and Money".

33-and-ten-minutes

2010-03-04T15:11:00.000-08:00

Well, 33 has come and gone. That age was so short lived. Now, I'm living it up in 33 and fifteen minutes. I feel so much more mature since I was 33. Guess that whole fear about dying as a 33-year-old was silly. The birthday was spent doing odds and ends. The fifth floorers (the coolest bunch of budding scholars I know) surprised me with a mid-afternoon cake, and I offered all the fellowshippers a movie-night with cake on the side. We watched "Die Ultimative Bourne" ...good in any language.

So... I thought I would post some pics from the day.

Dascha affixed a surprise to my door:

I made minor adjustments before the day was over:

and Thea sent me the best birthday card I've ever received:

...and well, I guess I didn't take enough pictures. Oh well.

Frankfurt, Pietism, and misc.

2010-03-03T14:01:00.000-08:00

I write this only half-heartedly tonight and do so for two reasons. First, I am glued to the tv. Germany is playing Argentina in a “friendly” game as teams prepare for the World Cup. The other reason is a bit more complicated. Tomorrow—yes folks, tomorrow—I turn 33. That might seem inconsequential in the “big picture” and in consideration of all the medical advancements we’ve seen even in recent history. But, tomorrow is in biblical terms the beginning of the end. I will turn the same age as Jesus before his crucifixion. So, if I get a little choked up during the rest of this blog entry, just know, I am living in a perpetual mode of self-reflection, writing deep and mournful poems in my head, or I’m just distracted by the German's playing poorly in the soccer game.

This past weekend Adam and I had made plans to visit Luxembourg, which I proudly termed the Delaware of Europe (note the Wayne’s World reference). That fell through when we heard the weather would be questionable, so we decided to do…well, nothing. With nothing planned, I decided to head to Frankfurt, the city of no plans. "Frankfurt, the city of no plans?" you ask. "Yes," I reply. I am primarily slighting the city’s architecture. Post-war reconstruction left Frankfurt looking like a mix between old Germany, the McDonalds at exit 42 in Ohio, and the symbol of European “hope.” Speaking of that symbol of hope:

[side note: half-time just began and a news report came up about the financial troubles in Greece. For those of you out of the loop, Greece’s economy just went down the drain thanks to government abuses, and the result has been slap to the face(-value) of the Euro. A scholar-friend sitting next to me heard the headline and said, “late Greek decadence!” I couldn’t help but laugh.]

With all the demeaning talk, you’d think I hate Frankfurt. I don’t. It’s actually the first stop on my “Pietism Pilgrimages” blog series. [“Peter’s writing a blog series?” you ask. Why yes, yes I am; informative and entertaining… or at least time consuming… whatever it takes to rescue you from boredom.] I suppose it might have been better to start this whole series of informational blogs with my first visit to Halle in the fall, but I’ll be back there in March and next September (for another “extended” stay). So, it will begin with Frankfurt, the seat of Pietism’s beginnings.

It was during his time serving in Paulskirche that Philipp Jakob Spener put into practice his own reform plan; the great expression being public conventicle meetings. In these meetings, he and his congregants would gather outside the confines of the church to read and encourage each other with Scripture. Wait… did I say Paulskirche? I mean “the Barefooter’s Church.” The church Spener actually pastored was replaced by this monstrosity of a church (ok, it's not that bad, but just compare the drawing with the new building) which leaders used as a meeting place for the first attempt at German unification (mid-1800s).

And Frankfurt’s actually not so ugly… I just didn’t get enough sleep last night, or for the past three nights. Why? ‘Cause I just finished my first chapter for the dissertation! Boo-yah! I wore a smile for a large part of the day. It’s been amazing to see God steer this whole academic thing, including the way he puts things before me I would have never discovered. Ok back to Spener and Frankfurt….

So, many of the themes of Pietism (Bible study, group meetings, etc.) were put in motion in Frankfurt, and followed Spener to Dresden and Berlin. In fact, Spener wrote his Pia Desideria while pastoring in Frankfurt.

Oh, and I guess I should mention there are other things in the city. Like a Dom. They’re kinda commonplace over here. The odd thing about the Frankfurt Dom is that it is, well, the first “tacky” Dom I’ve seen. They actually painted the lines on the walls to appear as if it were masonry.

But there were some pretty churches.

Here's St. Leonard Kirche (built in 1219):

My favorite was Dreikönigskirche on the other side of the Main River (built 1340):

There actually wasn't anything flashing about Driekoenigskirche. It was quiet and unassuming, which made it a great place to read the Gospel and pray. Inside is a sign from 1531 exhorting the parishioners to care for the poor. Love it.

I would write more, but I'm dang tired. ...and the Germans lost to the Argentinians.

The fasting time...

2010-02-20T14:40:00.000-08:00

Well folks, I did it. I chose to not only fast leading up to Easter, but to fast from... German beer. I am hoping that it not only draws me closer to the Lord, but also shrinks the handles I've grown since beginning this research.

I also thought I'd share with you my "quiet place" in the city.

The rise of the city in the late-middle ages brought with it religious orders that sought to draw people away from the materialism that comes with "modernizing." As people moved from their agriculture-based lives to the hustle and bustle of the city, the preaching of the church called them to remember the Lord-at-work. In many ways, the church still provides that. St. Ignaz is an example of the smaller, quiet European church that makes a perfect place of prayer or a photo-op for the tourist. And, yes, I am willing to admit a little Roman Catholicism is rubbing off on me. By, hey, even Luther originally wanted only to reform the church. So, here's where I sit once a day. It's become a place of peacefulness I need.

Fastnacht #3: All H-E-Double-Hockey-Stick has broken loose!

2010-02-15T13:53:00.000-08:00

And so it begins. Sunday was quite peaceful. Is that a good excuse for not accomplishing anything (like reading Hebrews or Solzhenitsyn)? No. But maybe it was preparation for today, because this town is one loud bad-sounding German song, 24-7. We, as a collective generation, had hoped that things would get better in the 80s after "99 luftballons" but apparently that was just a blip on the German-musik radar. For some reason the Deutsch love their really ...well, it's hard to truly explain the condition of music in Germany without an example. So, here's the song that's on repeat here during Fastnachts:

This first song of the video, "Am Rosenmontag..." well, is ueber-popular during Carnival, and the remaining medley is merely to strengthen my argument. German music is painful. So, maybe, just maybe when it comes to music [and I mean good music] a little rejection of tradition is necessary. I don't mean a total rejection of tradition; just enough to allow genres like jazz, blues, rock, and techno (...yeah right) to make their way into the public sphere. Unfortunately, in Germany you're not going to hear Dylan, the Counting Crows, or even Elvis--unless you can polka to it.

But there is something to be said for tradition

That is, it can leave great parades in its wake. Here's the pile of junk I caught during today's Fastnacht parade.

Yup, that's right, you can see a book, tissues, a new rag for drying dishes, several balls, the Kindereier prize without the chocolaty egg, gummy bears, a waffle, various generic candies, popcorn, and my personal favorite: a normal sized pretzel. It was like a dream come true. Every time a float passed by, I thought to myself, "When are they going to throw a PhD at me, or at least a new truck?" [note to the readership: I said truck and not car.]

A few of us from the institute stood among the costumed folk of Mainz and yelled "Helau" (and occasionally "Suessigkeit") until our throats were sore, and then we returned to a building that tried its best to dampen the noise. It (the building) was unsuccessful. So, I'm going to end this one by posting some videos and pictures from the day (including a few "racially insensitive" ones). Hope it's more peaceful where you are.

And now for some photos:

Adam's costume ("Mr. Fox"), which was really just a kids costume forced to fit a large man, was always worth a laugh... I on the other hand (as I attempted to reflect bad fashion in Germany), could hardly be differentiated from the normal-dressed folk. For example:

Adam and I both agreed this young lad was not dressed in a costume. Sad, but true.

Elvis was in the house.

So were the muppets, although they were having a hard time standing up. That's most likely because they had such a hard day on the set of Sesame Street. Right?

And in the end, the streets of the entire city went from concrete to broken glass. Hmmm, sometimes scenery speaks the truths that our own hearts avoid.

Speaking of speaking the truth. I promised I would seek out the racially insensitive costumes. First, the Hispanic community:

And, the popular misrepresentation for the festival, of course, was the Arab community.

All in good fun? Maybe, but you definitely wouldn't find this walking the streets of the US. ...Unfortunately, it took hundreds of years of slavery for us to learn (partially?) our lesson. That's also debatable.

And now, back to that chapter I was supposed to be writing!

Fastnacht #2: the day before Valentine's day

2010-02-14T16:38:00.000-08:00

So, to initiate Carnival here in Mainz, they roll out the neighborhood kids (literally) and have a parade for the youngen's. It was cute. Needless to say, the cynical side of my personality started to kick in, and I mentioned to Adam (a fellow American at the institute) later that night that the parade was really an indoctrination event.

They dress the kids up, and when the little ones ask "Why papa?" they just mumble something about German tradition. While the whole time they are making the transition from "innocent child parade" to "drunken adult parade" a bit easier to swallow.

If boredom truly strikes, you can sit through this whole video, but I am sure there is something else happening on tv (an infomercial?) more appealing than this:

Today, on the other hand, didn't have any spectacular events... just a lot of singing and well... drumming. But, today was St. Valentine's Day.... so I decided to write my own SVD song. Enjoy (especially my Fastnachts hat and fu-manchu:

Fastnacht #1: Karneval is here!!! (YIKES!)

2010-02-13T03:29:00.000-08:00

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I've decided to experience the German version of Mardi Gras, Fastnacht (or Karneval or Faschings). There is a lingering memory of this event when I was a child living on the outskirts of Stuttgart, but now, as a grown man (don't laugh), I am bearing through the storm that is "Mainzer Fastnacht". I've been told that the Mainz celebration of what can only be described as a weekend of pure uninhibited "activity" is one of the larger in the country (but I'm willing to be corrected on this). Even the homeless are getting prepared for the festivities.

Yes, he's wearing pink angel wings.

We, here at the institute, began the celebration on Wednesday with a "Kreppelkaffee": a time where all the faculty and fellowship students could get together, eat donuts, drink coffee, and laugh at each other's costumes.

Here's a shot of the fifth floor representatives:

I was supposed to be a "German youth" but it turned out just to be an awkward social commentary.

Adam, on the other hand, pulled off a mighty fine Mr. Fox.

The secretaries of the building gave a funny commentary on the economy and world-politics (time to brush up on your German):

And now, on Saturday morning, I am preparing myself for a weekend of craziness. Believe it or not, my church actually packs-up and runs away from the city for the weekend. They call it "Gemeinde Freizeit" but I call it unChristian. How can we run from the most open opportunities to bear the Gospel on the lost? Well, needless to say, it's a good example of the evangelicalism in Germany. I think the atheist Penn (from Penn and Teller) has a great testimony on this point:

So, with the drums beating in my ear, I am going to do my best to get the final part of a chapter done. Will I finish before Ash Wednesday, when everything here dies down? Doubt it. But, I've got to feel productive.

With that said, I am also going to do my best to document the racially insensitive costumes that people wear over here. I think you'll enjoy them.

Gotha: the future's so bright, I gotta wear shades

2010-02-03T15:02:00.000-08:00

Well folks, aside from the M&M let-down, this past weekend was actually a lot of fun. On Saturday, I packed up my backpack and jumped on a train to meet Thea in Gotha.

Gotha, for those of you who aren't up with the really important things...like my life, is where I'll be living next fall ("if the Lord don't come and the creek don't rise"). I wanted to get a head-start on apartment shopping, so I planned a day of adventure with Thea...hoping to figure out what next year would look like.

The whole "figuring out what next year will look like" didn't actually happen. But, I did have a great day walking around the city. Gotha is, well, the type of town I appreciate in Germany: small, quaint, and old. It also (take note) is nearby what look to be good trout rivers!

After about 5 hours on the train (that's what I get for trying to save money) I arrived in town, greeted Thea, and stuck my backpack in a train station locker. We headed out of the station and toward the Schloss (mansion). Thea was to be the tour guide. I, well, the touristy guy.

The archive where I'll be researching is situated in this mansion (yes, very cool) as are some pretty interesting museums. I paid my respects to Herzog Ernst...

and we made our way into town.

Like my last visit to Halle, we were fortunate enough to run into a man who more that willingly gave us a tour of the old Lutheran church in town. It was originally an Augustinian cloister and during the Reformation transitioned to Luther's movement. The pastor of the church, Friedrich Myconius, was an important friend to Luther.

In fact, the church houses two really interesting paintings of Luther and Melanchthon. They are dressed in 17th century attire, wigs etc. and really don't look anything like their representations in other, earlier paintings.

The other exciting thing... I finally got to climb into an old pulpit in Germany!

These things are usually fenced off and inaccessible to the tourist, but the caretaker was more than willing to let me climb up and get some shots.

Afterward, we walked out to a housing possibility. On the west side of the city, about twenty minutes from the archive, are some renovated former communist apartments: one room, a bathroom and kitchenette...oh, and a balcony. The attractive part is that they are only 111 Euros per month.

The down side? ...did I mention they were former communist buildings (lacking character) and had an overwhelming amount of antennas and cellular towers on the roof, which shouted "cancer!" (aptly named "electro-smog" by Thea). They are still a possibility, but I am going to look for something a bit closer to the archive, with a bit more character and with fewer health risks.

We ended up wandering around the town for the rest of the day, eating some good pizza at the marktplatz Italian restaurant, and finally grabbing coffee at what will likely become my work zone: the Boston Coffee Shop. The coffee tasted more like dirtied water but the atmosphere was just right. Plus! They are open later than any cafe in Mainz. Perfect.

But, it was during that "Pot" of coffee (yes, they actually call their largest cup of coffee a "pot") that I made a terrible mistake. NO, I didn't try to ask out another German.... but I did lose track of time. Caught up in conversation, neither of us realized how much time had passed, and when I finally checked...well, I had about 10 minutes to get to the train station.

And, well, I tried. I ran (with two necessary pauses....come on peoples, I am an unhealthy fat lard right now) for about 2 kilometers hoping, just hoping, the train would be waiting on me. Two things encouraged me to be more "hopey" during the jaunt.... 1) this was my last "cheap" train back to Mainz (I had bought a day pass for the train system and didn't want to pay for another ticket) and 2) the three cups of coffee were, well, working their magic (and I knew an open bathroom would be waiting on me in that warm train).

I ran, and ran. Ran and, paused, and ran. Passed by the archive/Schloss, through the park, alongside the various important buildings, and made it to the train station.... just in time to watch the train leave. Yup... missed it.

Thea (who made a good effort at keeping up with me) showed up a few minutes later, only to see me standing their trying to figure what I would do. (Remember folks, I still had this silly idea that I'd get to meet M&M the next day.) My only option was to by a ticket for the ICE, the fast train, that would get me back to Mainz, but would also more than double to cost of my trip. I had no choice.

And with the purchase of the ticket, I was a little bit less wealthy in the bank account but had an extra hour to waste. So we found a table at the nearby hotel's diner and I, well, made a visit to the bathroom.

Yup, Gotha. I am excited. ...and I spent the rest of the trip home thinking about what was to come and writing a little on Francke's theology of the conscience.

the lost M&M

2010-01-31T05:22:00.000-08:00

I finally finished Frankenstein (yes Frankenstein) on the train back from Gotha yesterday. Toward the end I came across an interesting quote; one I think speaks volumes to the Christian faith.

In the midst of being trapped in the ice of the arctic circle, the narrator's crew decides to demand a return to the mainland if they ever get free. Upon hearing this Dr. Frankenstein, who is nearing his death, remarks:

"Are you, then, so easily turned from your design? Did you not call this a glorious expedition? And wherefore was it glorious? Not because the way was smooth and placid as a southern sea, but because it was full of dangers and terror, because at every new incident your fortitude was to be called forth and your courage exhibited, because danger and death surround it, and these you were to brave and overcome. For this was it glorious, for this was it an honourable undertaking. You were hereafter to be hailed as the benefactors of your species, your names adored as belonging to brave men who encountered death for honour and the benefit of mankind. And now, behold, with the first imagination of danger, or, if you will, the first mighty and terrific trial of your courage, you shrink away and are content to be handed down as men who had not strength enough to endure cold and peril; and so, poor souls, they were chilly and returned to their warm firesides."

Wow. If only our church consistently preached the Gospel in this context! ...in the context of life's reality, and not the comfort-seeking Gospel (whether it be obtained with material objects or with the false pretenses of "passion" and "warmth" for Christ), we might actually see a Christianity that confronts evil (no not Saddam Hussein) and bears upon death the beauty of life.

..and with that said, I'll take up my story of Mr. P and Ms. ? where I left off:

[quoting from the previous blog post:]

The end.

...the end. Yup, folks, for whatever reason she was a no-show. I woke up, jumped on a street car, and headed for the church; arriving about 25 minutes early, in between the first and second service. Nothing. And, so I was left to journal about it, and to laugh at the fact that I was sitting in a church I had earlier said I wouldn't return to because they show no concern for the "stranger" (aka. visitor) in their midst. So, for a second time I sat through a service in which no one attempted to talk to me.

Maybe, in some post-modern way, I am actually Frankenstein's creation. [For those of you who've read the story, you might remember why the creature was the way he was.]

Carnival and the story of "Mr. P"

2010-01-23T14:50:00.000-08:00

Before I get to the good stuff, I must (I MUST!) begin with a great video:

This one of the many reasons my mother is lovingly called "Momma Yoder" at camp and is beloved by all she meets.

The carnival has come to Mainz! How do I know, you ask? Well, aside from the fact that people are walking around the old city in clown and baroque-period soldier costumes, the bands have begun. ...they’ve begun to well.... drum....

And drum, and drum, and drum. Saturdays, now, are now days where we cherish the few seconds of silence, and despise the loud ever-present thumping of the bass drum. Even my place of study, now a fourth-floor cafe usually filled with senior citizens, isn’t hidden from those dastardly happy people!

But aside from the weekend of noise, things have been going relatively well. I just applied for an extension to remain in Mainz until the end of April, and during that time I am hoping to write two chapters of the diss. [“Hoping” is the key word in that last sentence.]

On a side note, I made my first attempt at a date last Sunday. That’s right. I’ve finally found a good use for this language I’m learning. So here’s the story, as best as I can remember it:

Once upon a time, there was this aging-yet-youthful-at-heart guy desperate for a date. One Saturday night, as he lay on his bed, he chatted with God about it. “God,” said the very youthful, soon-to-be thirty-three-year-old, “I sure wouldn’t mind running into someone tomorrow that I could ask out.” [note to reader, the prayer may have been a bit more drastic and dramatic than recounted here. The author has taken liberty with the original event.] You see, the evangelical churches in city held a yearly ecumenical service, and tomorrow was that day. He, being the charming main character of the story, was to attend the ball....uh, I mean ecumenical church service... with some of the other members of the Stadtmission church.

The group met at little before 10am and drove together to the enChristo church somewhere in the suburbs of Mainz. It is there, in this newly built, typical evangelical church-like structure that our adventure takes place. This man, we’ll call him Mr. P, would attempt to well, answer his own prayer. The Stadtmission group took up a row near the back of the auditorium, and the seats surrounding them quickly filled. In all, about 500 people gathered to worship, and one of those unfortunate Christians would undergo what could only be described as one of the worst pick-up attempts ever.

Mr. P noticed her pretty early on. She was about five rows in front of him; sitting next to a lady that could have been her mother and about four spots away from the ardent evangelical student, who worked up enough of a sweat during the singing portion of the service that his “Sunday’s Best” was stripped away, making the white t-shirt glued to his back the only barrier between his pale wintery flesh and the rest of the congregation. Needless to say, those around the young man, who were not caught up in their own form of Jesus-dancing, were hoping the student didn’t come from the new “we worship in the nude” church plant that was rumored to have existed in town.
But, she was there, not clapping like the charismatics but not silent like the staunch conservatives. Mr. P took note of that. He also took note of how the sermon reflected off her blonde hair... umm, moving on.

She was there all the way until the end. Mr. P occasionally glanced in “that” direction to see if anything had changed. Nope. Still there, all the way until the benediction. In fact, she was in that general vicinity for about five minutes after the service ended. Mr. P knew that because the whole time he was trapped standing in his row, between conversing friends, pretending he cared about what they were talking about. But he didn’t.

She was on his mind. But suddenly, like the last peanut M&M in a dish, she was gone. Out the door. “Fine God!” thought Mr. P, “Have it Your way...I’ll live the rest of my life alone,” and with that thought, he slumped back into his seat and returned to the conversations directly around him. Soccer, school, blah, blah, blah...a few of group, including Mr. P, began to consider that the longer they stood there, the later they ate and the later they got to take their Sunday nap. So with a little persuasion they had their jackets on and were moving, albeit slowly, out of the auditorium.

And suddenly—like finding that last M&M on the floor—she was back! This time the young lady, who we’ll call Ms. ?, was right next to the group, talking to some older ladies. Blasted! Mr. P was still stuck in the middle of his group, with hindered by ideas of conversational propriety. But his desperation got the best of him, and he quickly scuffled over to where she was. ...He actually placed himself right beside her, facing away from her small group and toward his own.

But now, what does he say? AHHH! “Excuse me” Mr P, in his broken German interrupted, “do ya’ll [yes German has a pronoun for ya’ll] go to this church?” No was the unanimous response. “Oh, because I was wondering how old the building was.” He really wasn’t wondering, but they hadn’t quite noticed his insincerity. [note to reader: Mr. P was completely aware how LAME of a question that was.] One of the older ladies tried to take him to a person or a room somewhere “out there” [that being, not in the general area where Ms. ? was standing] where he could find the answer to his important question. But he didn’t want an answer. Instead he turned to conversation and found out all three ladies attended the Free Evangelical Church. A church he had visited his first weekend in Mainz. They also found out that he was from the Stadtmission, and that he didn’t have an outstanding grasp of the German language.

But suddenly, like finding out that M&M on the floor wasn’t actually an M&M, his friends were out the door and he was trailing after them. I mean, come on, he didn’t want to get left behind and have to walk back, and really, was he going to ask this girl out? Really, come on.

“Wait, a second,” thought Mr. P, “ What the heck am I doing? I am going back in there!” And so, about 15 steps from the door, as his friends filed out into the snow, Mr. P turned tail and ran, back to Ms. ?.

“Excuse, can I ask one question?”

“Yes.” Ms. ? responded.

“Are you single or do you have a husband?” yup, that’s right, Mr. P was letting it all hang out. I mean, his ride was leaving...time to cut to the chase.

“Ummm” Ms. ? was thrown aback. “Ummmm, no.” The two older ladies were quite amused with the situation, one noting to Mr. P something about “friends” [the difference German for boyfriend and friend is merely the article], to which Mr. P responded with some sort of jumble German sentence about his friends leaving.

“Can I have your number?”

Pause. Shock. Old ladies smiling and shocked. Ms. ? confused. At some point in this mass confusion Mr. P actually introduced himself, and finally, “What the heck.”

“But I don’t have a pen,” responded Mr. P. With that Ms. ? reached into her purse, only to find... a change of mind.

“No, wait a second. Why don’t you come visit me at my church?” She remarked. “I won’t be there until the first of February.”

“Deal!” said Mr. P, and with that he remembered he actually had a ride to catch. Out the door he ran. And now Mr. P has one more week. He might make it until then. Might.

The end.

With that story on your minds, I leave you with a great rendition of Sinatra’s “I did it my way” played, well, you’ll see...

The Physician Assistants have arrived, Part 5: Trier

2010-01-15T14:10:00.001-08:00

Yeah, yeah. I know. It's been a while. But I have a ton of excuses, the least of which is that I haven't seen the Sun in at least a week. That's not normal right? ...well, normal or not, it explains the nihilism so prevalent in this fine country. I'd be pretty gloomy too if I'd have to live through these types of winters on a yearly basis.

...but I digress. In the following, I will my best to recall our (that being me, Ben, and Tim's) adventure to Trier. We had one day left before the two would attempt to get back to the States. [Ben and Tim ran into a little trouble on their return. It was called a "blizzard"... yeah that small snow-storm that shut down most of the eastern US. Well, they finally made their way back to Atlanta by taking a train to Paris, flying to Salt Lake City, and then flying back to ATL. So there are some shortcoming to traveling on a buddy pass. ...but I digress, again.] We needed something reasonably close for our final German getaway. A place close that would also provide a different perspective of Europe.

Trier was the obvious choice. East of Mainz, Trier is one of the few German cities that still has standing Roman ruins. That's right. Actual, real, cool ....well, not this cool. But ruins. Like this:

The train ride was uneventful this time. No missed routes, no crazy Irish homeless men. Just a normal ride through the eastern hills and valleys.

Once we came to a halt at the Hauptbahnhof, we headed directly to the Trier Cathedral. It was definitely my favorite of the churches we'd seen. Originally built in the 4th century, it's old. Real old.

What makes this cathedral so special? [apart from its age] Well, first of all.... IT HAS A RELIC!!!

That's right folks. In case my rejection of the Roman Catholic authority hasn't cast me into the depths of hell, I made sure to make a visit to the shrine of the Holy Robe. I don't think it helped much. According to the pamphlet "...the mother of the Emperor Constantine, Helena, brought the seamless robe of Christ to Trier." But have no fears, there weren't any Roman soldiers there to fight over its rights. Just a lot of visitors, who paid a Euro for a brochure and looked through the off colored glass to see a shrine that we all believed held a robe. It probably did. But, I'd much rather have the Christ this robe clothed instead of treads and stains. I have to many threads and stains right now to want anything else than divine mercy.

Did I mention I love gothic work in churches? Well, I do. The Dom offered another example.

We made our way out of the cathedral and spent a few moments in the cloister garden. It's a beautiful garden which is well deserving of as many possible people to sit around and think on heavenly things. Unfortunately, the sub-zero temperatures meant only the three of us would even think of finding it interesting to sit out in the freezing cold and stare at sculptures and stones.

After the cathedral, we headed over to the ruins, but before getting there we passed by the palace. What made this building stand out was its "pinkness" in contrast to the surrounding snow-covered environment. Not bad Mr. architect-man, but I still couldn't live in a pink house. Now, a pink Cadillac, that's a different story.

From there we set out to find the Karl Marx birthplace. The map we had of the city was as unclear, if not misleading, as possible, which meant we wandered in the cold longer than any one of us desired... until we ran into a plaque:

Yup, he was born here, in Trier. Here is where his Jewish father was forced to convert to Christianity in order to avoid persecution, and here is where he played with all the other kids toys because they were all meant to share their belongings from birth. It's here where he ate food and did what comes natural after eating. During the "process" he would yell out of the bathroom at his parents not to interfere between himself, his work, and what he was producing. Yes, folks, it was here that Marx began to generate that system of social understanding that would come to be seen as the best description of human existence. ...Aren't you grateful this type of thought dominates our academic system? [Just wait till I visit Freud's birthplace.]

We stopped in the house, but once we saw that it cost money to see inside the house [really? - so capitalist of them!] we decided to stand around the doorway until we warmed up.

By then, daylight was disappearing so we meandered back to the train station. The Weihnachtsmarkt was especially nice in Trier, including this band. Ben was determined to get the name of the percussive instrument the older lady was playing. We got it, and then proceeded to quickly forget what she said.

After getting out of the city center, we passed by the Porta Nigra. We were all silently grateful that this "gate" was the last site to be seen before heading back to Mainz. The human body can only take so much of cold weather until stops functioning.

To end with, I thought I would post my favorite picture from the Trier trip. Here's Ben wearing a hat his brother knit for him. Love it.

I survived

2010-01-05T16:07:00.000-08:00

Well, this will be brief. I merely want to say that I survived my presentation today. The institute requires that each recipient of a fellowship present on their research, and several of the faculty highly encouraged me to do mine in German. Ironically, the same faculty who encouraged this were absent from my presentation.

I am still trying to figure out whether the last month of preparation of the last hour of presenting was worse. I am leaning towards the month of preparation...

...and, I miss my long hair. Short hair is boring.

The Physician Assistants have arrived, Part 4: Worms...again

2010-01-03T08:15:00.000-08:00

So, Ben, Tim, and I returned from Strasbourg on Thursday night with the idea that we'd visit Worms in the morning and early afternoon before the retirement party for my IEG mentor, Herr Vinke. Well, if we meant sleep when we used the word "visit Worms" than we did just what he had planned.

The "relaxing" morning meant we'd have to head down to the mecca of Reformation activity in the evening (ok, mecca might be a slight overstatement, but it was the city of choice in Luther's great "stand").

We hopped on the train and made it to Worms in about thirty minutes, a little after six, but just ten minutes too late to show the guys the inside of the Dom. The snow, nevertheless, made the outside picturesque.

From there we ventured over to the Jewish Cemetery, which was also closed. But in God's good timing, a lady was pulling in as we were peering through the gate, and I was able to talk her into letting us get a peek of the cemetery.

On the way back to the city center, we passed by the Luther memorial. Again, the night-time snow made it just that more beautiful. And for Ben, I'm including a shot of Jan Hus.

Now, I would like to claim we were tough, enjoying the freezing weather, but that'd be a lie. After the cemetery we decided to get something to eat; specifically, traditional German food. We stopped into a German restaurant and ordered Schnitzel. Schnitzel is essentially breaded pork... you see, what beef is to the Americans, pork is to the Germans. I am pretty sure their vegetables are made out of it...pork, that is. But I did learn something extremely valuable: the difference between a regular Schnitzel and a Jaegerschnitzel is creamy delicious gravy. ...Ben and Tim ordered the regular, dry, boring Schnitzel and I ordered the Jaeger... bonus points for me.

From the restaurant, it was off to the bridge. I had heard a lot about the structure, but didn't get a chance to see it on our last visit. Pretty cool huh?

With the bridge to our backs we returned to the city, to some sweets from the Weihnachtsmarkt, and finally to the warmth of the train.

...a train with a little extra decoration:

Happy New Year

2010-01-01T14:49:00.000-08:00

Well, so long 2009. Hello 2010. Now I'll be spending the next month scratching out each date I write, and scribbling in the space remaining " '10".

After a restful Christmas alone (yes, the solitary life is overtaking me people), I spent New Year's Eve with Stefan and Frauke, Kelly S., Mayumi I., and Jasper. Stefan and Frauke have this amazing house outside of Reinheim, a small town near Darmstadt. Looking out of the front of the house you look out over the beauty of Odenwald, and from the back yard of the house you can see a castle.... not a bad place to write a dissertation.

Outside of drinking various festive "drinks", eating some amazing turkey, shooting off fireworks, and mocking each others country, we partook in Bleigießen, a German tradition of predicting the future. How does it work? Well first, you take your led figure an melt the bejeebers out of it.

Then you fling the melted led into a water bowl, and the shape the metal takes upon cooling is supposed to tell you something of what's to come. Here's mine.... so, what do you see?

Frauke also made a traditional hot drink called Feuerzangebowle, which involved using flaming rum to melt sugar into a pot of hot red wine and (I believe) orange juice. It was amazingly delicious - and potent. ...did I mention it was delicious? oh, yeah, and POTENT!

By my third cup, it was time for the group to break out with tongue twisters from our respective countries. Here's a little taste of Japanese tongue twisters.

belated Merry Christmas, and a hoped Happy New Year!

2009-12-29T03:44:00.000-08:00

Howdy folks. I've been consumed the past two weeks with translating a paper into German, so I apologize for this terribly late holiday greeting. Instead of writing, I though I would share with you some pictures I took of Mainz this past week.

This first picture is a bridge crossing over the major street running alongside the Rhine. The "artist" some years back painted "Friede auf Erden" [Peace on Earth], and I couldn't help but think the message and setting was perfect.

The whole city was prepared for the Christmas season. This included an extravagant display of lights, which created the "change of perspective" that we all get when we stand on a tall chair. Looking at buildings through the web of seasonal lights forced my mind to see the city a bit differently.

We have a much smaller version of this Christmas Pyramid in our house in North Carolina. It's one of those traditional Christmas ornaments that merely says, "Please fire, taste my house."

We received about three inches of snow the Tuesday before Christmas, which provided a great setting for pictures.

The Weihnachtsmarkt was beautiful, and I was able to capture it late at night, empty of its visitors.

...and to my surprise, I am being featured on the University's Religious Studies website:

The Physician Assistants have arrived, Part 3: Strasbourg

2009-12-26T13:16:00.000-08:00

Although we may have appeared otherwise, we had a plan. The plan? To take it easy. At least, that's what I'm using as an excuse for the fact that we were "respectably" late to every city we visited, Strasbourg included. But, I need to actually begin with this:

I'VE BEEN TO FRANCE ....and survived. Yes folks, the French are not evil, although they make some mean freedom.... ummm, I mean French food. I was in more shock over the change in language than I was over the change in country. At first I didn't care much for the sound of French coming out of French mouths, but it only took one or two native speaking ladies to convince me that it is actually a fine language.

We arrived in Strasbourg, home of the most underrated Reformed theologian of the sixteenth century, Martin Bucer (a man, I might add, who helped straighten Calvin out a bit), sometime around lunch and headed straight into the old city. Ben, seeing that he had officially turned 33, was the tour guide for the day. [I relinquished my role as tour guide once we crossed into a country where I didn't know a lick of the language.] First up, well, an educated homeless man:

Most of you know my heart for the homeless, so I think I can openly say, this was one of the most amusing scenes of the day. I still can't quite put my finger on it, but the image of a homeless man, lounging on the sidewalk and reading on a frigid day brings a little smile to my face. Especially when I imagine him reading with a stuck-up french accent. Wait, better yet: here.

Next up: The Cathedral of Notre Dame. No... not the super-important one, with the hunchback, but an beautiful one nonetheless. In fact, I was in awe of the imagery that the church created.

The picture doesn't quite capture it, but the church appeared to be a wave collapsing on the city. [I should have expected this since it was the tallest building in the world until 1874.] It overshadowed everything and everyone before me; I was instantly transported into the theological recesses of my mind, imagining the symbolism of the moment. There was a time when the church did cast shadows on the mundane activity of the city; there was a time when the church acted as prophet - crying out to a society wandering further and further away from God. There was a time....

Speaking of wandering further and further away. I want to present you with my small attempt at time lapse photography. As Tim and I were taking photos of the cathedral, Ben decided to begin toward the church itself.

He assumed we heard him signal his departure (and somehow he believed we were right behind him).

Notice, I am still taking pictures of the cathedral, and Ben, well he's waaay up there.

And now, a little further.

It wasn't until he reached the church (according to his testimony) that he realized we weren't behind him, and at that point I think he decided to go in and check it out, reasoning that we'd know exactly where he was.

In the mean time, Tim and I were in knots (well, maybe not Tim). I couldn't figure out where Ben went, and after about thirty minutes, my sixth sense--that being the sense of worry [inherited from my sweet mother]--kicked in. So, I started scrolling through my camera to find a picture or two to show police. Could he have actually been abducted? Only by his own imagination.

Alas, Ben returned, and did not receive the beat-down he deserved. ...it was his birthday. But we did get a picture for memory's sake:

So we headed over to the cathedral to have a look. I am especially in love with Gothic cathedrals. There is no point, no corner nor door frame, that does not force your attention upward. Amazing.

Inside was just as astounding, from the thirteenth century architecture....

...to the random astronomical clock. Yup, they have a clock inside that dates back to, well, before I was born.

We wandered to some of the other buildings of the city. Remember, Ben had the map. So my ability to label the different places was limited. That's right, blame it on the birthday boy. I'm no better than Adam. Here's Ben and Tim in front of the palace (I think).

Finally, our bladders and stomachs persuaded us to stop and grab something to eat. I coaxed the men into eating at a place where we could get Flammenkuchen. It's a delicious freedom... ummm, I mean French version of pizza. Instead of tomato sauce there is this tasty creme-based sauce. Hard to explain, but easy to eat. While we were eating, an "entertainment" band started playing just outside. They appeared to be a bunch of university students looking to make a few extra bucks. No, wait. They didn't want bucks (the dollar's too weak). They wanted a few Euros.

We wandered around a bit more, evidenced by these photos of buildings I don't know and a canal I can't name.

After a few unexpected turns in wrong directions, we made our way back to the train station, and eventually back to Germany. Although, I was tempted to see where "Nancy" would take me. Hey, I'm desperate people.

And, all three of us were hoping that we wouldn't run into the old German man who had trouble controlling his "flow of gas" at the Appenweier station. Luckily, the cold appeared to have scared him away. It also scared us, back to Mainz.

The Physician Assistants have arrived, Part 2: Heidelberg

2009-12-23T08:46:00.000-08:00

I am just no good. Simple as that. When it comes to catching trains, I WILL fail you. As I proved once again Tuesday morning while Ben, Tim, and I waited for our train to Heidelberg. It takes only one simple difference, whether it be a different train number, a slightly later time, or a change of platforms, to assure that I and whoever is willing to risk riding with me will miss our train. And so, we missed our first train. I have a ton of excuses (this one being that the train number was different than the printout we had) but in the end it only evidences my lack of trust.

We did finally make it to Heidelberg in the early afternoon and made our way out of the train station and directly toward a Weihnachts (Christmas) stand selling Indian food. Ben, the pure genius he is, easily convinced us to stop at the booth for lunch, and as a small gift I bought the guys a cup of gluhwein. I’ve grown to like the hot wine served during the Christmas season, but these pure-bloods only finished their cups out of politeness. (At least, they weren’t much for a second cup later in the week.)

After the meal, we attempted to find the first hostel on our list. It was somewhere near the train station, but the factory buildings in the neighborhood didn’t seem like the ideal place for running a hostel. Wrong. Ben found the hostel resting just above a supermarket in a renovated industrial building. Not so pleasant from the outside, and not so appealing in the inside.

Which reminds me…. never trust German directions. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve asked for directions from a variety of German people and at least 75% of the time the directions are waaayyyyy off. This time it was a young girl walking by. We were literally standing (unknowingly) in front of the hostel, and she directed us to some area about a mile away. Thank goodness by Bat-sense kicked in and said, “Peter, ummm excuse me, are you about to take directions from a German?” And the combination of that inner sense and Ben walking up with certainty of its latitudinal and longitudinal position rescued us from an unnecessary adventure into the industrial park of Heidelberg.

I wasn’t into staying so far away from the old city of Heidelberg, so I convinced the guys to check out the hostel on the northern, older part of town. What a great surprise. Not only were the rooms cheap and private, but the price included a tasty beer and free breakfast (not consumed at the same time). We dropped our packs off in the room and set off to see the city.

First thing on the docket: check out the castle.

It was getting dark and we only had a little light left for picture taking, so I kindly encouraged my jet-lagged friends to get their butts of their hostel beds and head up to the castle.

Building on the castle began in the 14th century and the various buildings still standing inside the walls reflect the different periods and rulers that held the crown. It was the seat of the Palatinate's Reformed (Calvinist) rulers, and, important to my studies, Frederick the Fifth dwelt here before the onset of the Thirty Years War. Too bad he got his butt kicked by those dang Catholic Hapsburgs!

After the castle we headed back into the city to enjoy the Weihnachtsmarkt. It’s a tradition in German towns and cities to have a “market” filled with stands selling…well, nowadays, junk… but, you can still get some great candy (like candied peanuts and almonds, and nutella crepes) and traditional German foods.

Most of all, the Weihnachtsmarkt is a chance for families to head out into the city and enjoy community. As much as I dislike the materialistic “buying” theme, America needs these types of events, where everyone gets together; eating and associating. The great downfall of our country is that we are growing more and more distant from our own neighbors. Now, the question asked Jesus, “Who is my neighbor?”, takes on a whole new and tragic dimension for Americans.

Though the cold chased us inside, we did find enough energy to head downstairs to the bar, drink a few beers, and play a few games of chess. …a game that humiliates me. My excuse: I’m a pseudo-pacifist. I have a hard time killing a fish, let alone my neighbors pawn.

We awoke the next morning, ate a delicious, free breakfast, gawked at a 10 month-old girl who appeared (by her size) to be on steroids, and made our way slowly towards the train station. On the way, we happened to pass a nifty looking Smartcar. Yeah, I know…they can only go about 15 miles an hour, but they sure look good.

next stop… Strasbourg.

The Physician Assistants have arrived, Part 1: Mainz and language training

2009-12-20T06:30:00.000-08:00

Well, I am loved, people. Sometimes it takes two guys, one being your best friend, to jump on a plane and come visit me to remind me of how loved I am. Ben R. and Tim H. flew out of Atlanta Monday night and in Frankfurt Tuesday, beginning what would be a whirlwind visit of Germany.

Their first day, filled with jet-lag and German sweets, was a foot tour of Mainz. We (I included) stepped into the Mainz Dom, Christuskirche, and several other buildings for the first time. Bombing from WWII left these churches void of their earlier artwork, but the size and architecture alone were worth the time.

I was also able to talk them into doing a little night-time modeling. (I've forgotten to say that these two brought ridiculously cold weather with them. It became noticeably colder every day they were here, ending on Saturday with temperatures in the single digits... it's like the Iowa weather followed me over here!) I think Ben and Tim became annoyed at about the fifth or sixth attempt at this shot.... but I got what I wanted. I'm a hard-nosed photographer, but I get the shot I want in the end ;). (you just have to be unyielding to these know-it-all PA models these days.)

Ben also conquered a fear his first night in Germany. Walking through the nearby park, he noticed a windmill/slide about three stories high. It was pitch black, but Ben convinced himself and the two of us to join him for a nighttime slip down a relatively cold metal slide. Besides the strange people at the top of the windmill, whom we heard but did not see, it was uneventfully enjoyable.

Most important on this first day was the creation by Ben and Tim of a set of English words that could double as German expressions. Some of note were:

I'm sorry = Entschuldigung, or "chewing-gum"
bye = tschuss, or "shoes"
I would like... = ich moechte, or "icky monster"

These "doubles" all became extremely helpful for the rest of their visit. ... absolutely no one would have understood them had they not uncovered these helpful connecting phrases and combined them with dramatic hand gestures.

Next up... Heidelberg and Strasbourg

I'll be back [said with a Austrian accent, of course]

2009-12-08T09:58:00.000-08:00

This past Sunday, I slept in long enough to miss church, but not long enough to oversleep a Sunday afternoon hiking adventure with Tanja. Only problem... I talked her out of hiking (it was raining) and we wandered through a flea market. Both our late arrival and the slow drizzle was compelling the sellers to close up shop, but I still felt the "I'm-walking-through-a-flea-market-looking-for-a-treasure" vibe that I'd get every time my mom would take me on her garage-sale adventures.

But there is much better news than just the Sunday flea market. I"M COMING BACK TO GERMANY!!! That's right folks. I received an email last Thursday confirming that I've received the Herzog-Erst-Stipendium [Stipendium=fellowship] to continue my research. Sweeeeeetnessssss! I am excited about two things: 1) the location (Gotha) is in the eastern part of the country and 2) Gotha is a small city [unlike Mainz] near Erfurt. I'll be able to enjoy a lifestyle a little more to my liking, or so I imagine. Right now they've allotted me four months, but I have a good feeling that I'll be able to get an extension.

Time for a first: I need some prayer, peoples. First, I am having some non-serious health issues that need prayer. Second, I need to get my presentation done by the end of the week (pressure, pressure) so that I can translate it into German before I present it January 5th. Pray, pray, pray. [Oh, and I could also use the always helpful "Lord strengthen Peter's faith" prayer too.]

Halle back ya'll! (disregard the corniness)

2009-12-07T09:25:00.000-08:00

Two weeks ago, I made another return to Halle, doing a bit of research on Francke and rubbing noses with the big-wigs in the realm of Pietist studies.

But, I should probably begin with a warning. If you have any desire, any deep-down-itch, to travel with a bike on the German railway, rethink your thinking. I made the mistake of thinking it would be wise to travel with my bike across the country. Bad idea. Proof #1:

They gave me exactly 3 minutes to get from one train platform to the other, and then decided to run the first train late. Ever seen a grown man running with a bike, while wearing two backpack? ....neither have I, but a couple of people in Nordheim did.

As attested by the video, I had hoped Halle would bring some smiles.... that it would be a happy town. But, that's over estimating the disposition of the east. They are still embracing their unhappiness as a source of regional strength. I had thought that plan had been worn out twenty years ago, when the wall fell.

But, I love Halle. I love it's eastern perspective: the old buildings yearning for western materialism to give them a face-lift, and the social perspective that still has a grasp on the idea that you can't buy happiness.

I had the opportunity to stay in the apartment above Thea again, eating most of my meals with her and her daughter. I attempted to provide them with a delicious meal but was disappointed with the final product. I discovered that when Germans use the word "salsa" they could also be referring to a bottle Heinz 57 with onions and a few peppers mixed in. Yuck. Thea was kind enough to say it tasted good, but I knew there wasn't much of a difference between what I had prepare and those noodle-and-ketchup dinners our mothers decided to give us when they needed a break.

On Sunday I attended a reformed Evangelische Kirche, in which the pastor wore the traditional reformed outfit.

Beautiful...where, oh, where have our traditions gone? [sigh]

To my delight a gentleman afterwards invited me with him on a tour of the Dome, which is closed during the winter because it's not heated. It was a catholic church constructed by Albrecht (of Mainz), but in the late 1680s it became a reformed church for the Huguenot immigrants who fled to Prussia/Brandenburg. They kept all the catholic furnishings (statues, etc.) but set up the seating like a reformed church. Fascinating.

The man played also busted out a little organ-playin' for us.

The larger of the two was first played by Handel in the late 1680s. ...he was the church's (the reformed church) first organist. A Catholic structure, reformed congregation, and Lutheran-raised organist. Not bad.

To clear the palate, there was a lady playing the saw in the Weihnachten Markt. And yes, that's a camera crew covering her "artistry".

I spent the week transcribing Francke's sermon "Abendsmahl des Lammes"...96 pages. When I first encountered the sermon I thought, "Jackpot! Here's a text perfect for my dissertation. A sermon devoted to the Lord's table." I typed and typed. Got to page 30: nothing on the earthly practice of the sacrament. Type and type: page 50. nothing. only talk about the eschatological heavenly supper. Typed and typed: page 70. nothing. On Thursday, I reached the sermon's end. Four days of typing, and, well, I didn't get much meat out of it. On a side note, the leaf-less trees around the Stiftungen gives you a better perspective on how large these buildings are.

Built in the mid 1690s. Amazing.

Oh yeah, the university students were striking while I was there. The poor, poor, poor students who have to pay around 400 euros per semester are reacting against the desire of many institutes to start adopting a more American university system, with Bachelor and Master degrees. Other than signs, the strike was nonexistent.

On my way back, I was reminded again why I shouldn't trust the German railway. The bike and two backpacks didn't help, but this time we were so late I had no time to catch my connecting train. Want to take a bike along with you? Proof #2:

Jesus-in-a-box! Ireland Part 2: Dublin!

2009-12-02T14:01:00.000-08:00

With bellies full of Galway Guinness, Kristi and I headed to Dublin. We got into the city a bit after lunch time and made our way, albeit peppered with directional confusion, to Isaac's Hostel. After unloading our stuff we headed out for traditional eats. Within a few blocks of the hostel we found a traditional-looking Irish pub...I ordered fish and chips, which they had even though it didn't appear on their menu. Kristi (rightly) speculated that they actually got their prepared food from the wannabe-French restaurant directly beside the pub. The "food-handlers" mysteriously appeared out of a back room, bringing with them plates with frenchy-looking designs. But, aside from the dishware, the place was as traditional looking as you could get.

Afterward we wandered up and down Talbot street (and connecting streets) looking for a real Irish sweater. Kristi (and I also) had expected to find at least one "buy some traditional Irish stuff" store in Dublin. Instead, the streets were lined with high-priced fashion pushers and Sears-like department stores.

Though disappointed, our spirits were lifted by the momentary distraction of a local band trying to make a buck-or-two. The fiddle player was especially amusing, playing his fiddle in almost every imaginable way (ok, not every), but I was a few Euros short of being able to buy their cd.

After a few hours of walking up and down Talbot, we headed back to the hostel. Kristi had some papers to grade, I had an article to read, and we (unexpectedly) had to meet a young "up-and-coming" filmmaker, who was filming a documentary on Irish musicians in the area. Kristi and I were both a bit tired and Kristi had an early flight, so we said our goodbyes (with the expectation of running into each other at camp....that's right Kristi, start prepping for a whole lot of crazy evangelicals confined in 27 acres).

The next morning I awoke with a few hours at hand before I needed to head to the airport. Throwing everything into my backpack, I set out to see the churches of the city. First up, Christ Church Cathedral.

The church was riddled with history, including a crypt.

Next up, Saint Patrick's Cathedral. I had to pay 4 Euro to walk through Christ Church (so much for not peddling the gospel), so I was relegated to taking a quick shot of the church before heading to my next stop.

Next up, Whitefriars Street Carmelite Church. I caught them during a mass but that didn't stop me from getting a shot of Saint Valentine's remains. I am truly a blessed Protestant ;)

And with that I was on my way back to Germany...

WAIT!!!! I almost forgot. If you need any better reason to visit Ireland, Dublin is the only city I've visited where you can get Jesus in a box:

Ireland you say? Well I'll drink to that! Part 1: Galway

2009-11-29T14:47:00.000-08:00

Two weeks ago I spent three days in Ireland. Aer Lingus offers flights between Frankfurt and Dublin for around 70 EU, which is ridiculously cheap. After taking a bus to Galway, I met up with Kristi, my BFF West of the Miss., who had just presented a paper at the university. In celebration of her genuis, we toured the western part of the country the next day. [editors note: I will be using Kristi's names of places in this blog. All errors are her fault, and she can be reached at KristiD.BFFWM@wantstomovetolondon.com]

Did I say we toured the southwestern part of the country? I mean, we tour the southwestern region, after I had my first and second Guinness. Wow, the difference in taste is unmistakable. Here is my first Irish Guinness:

[Editors second note: my "first Irish" Guinness is actually the one in the background.]

Ireland is a fascinating country, thick with history--and a whole lot of churches and castle ruins. I was continually fascinated with the amount of old, old Catholic churches that lay in ruins. There was something rich and symbolic in every one I saw. Here's some shots of the Dunguaire castle and Corcomroe Abbey:

We took a bus tour that meandered through the region surrounding Galway. Our tour guide, Eamon, was at moments indecipherable but was one of the best tour guides I've ever had.

After taking in the castle and abbey, our fearless leader showed us an old Irish Ring Fort. The early tribes would build a large ring around their village as fortification. They'd include trees in order to maintain the stability of the mound.

We also saw some old Stone tombs/graves along the way. Here's the grave at Poulnabrone:

One of the really interesting aspects of the tour was seeing how the Irish made use of their rocky terrain. Every boundary fence was made of stacked stones. They'd dig up the stones to create land for cultivating or grazing and form walls around their specific territory.

Before making our way for the coast, we stopped by to see the Kilfenora crosses:

And also the "Matchmaker Bar" where they have this huge annual Lisdoonvarna Matchmaking festival for singles. ...I can't say I'm not a little tempted.

Lastly, we made it to the Cliffs of Moher and O'Brien's Tower [Editors note: These names make me feel like I was in a Lord of the Rings movie.]

The view was obviously beautiful, but it was windy. Real, real, real windy:

In order for Kristi and I to get to O'Brien's Tower we had to pass through a wall of mist created by sea water being blown hundreds of feet upward. I made a test run, for safety's sake:

That night we went out, I had some more Guinness, tried to pick up some girls from Australia (unsuccessfully), listened to some great Irish music, and then walked back to my hostel through the streets of Galway, and by the very popular "T.K. Maxx".

Not bad for my first day in Ireland.

"I got (to) Worms," that's what we'll call it

2009-11-29T14:44:00.001-08:00

I have been particualarly unfaithful to you, my readership. I've failed to blog my usual two-or-so entries per week, but I have some pretty good excuses. Since my last little blurb, I've traveled to Ireland and Halle: one trip for fun and the other for... fun, in a researchy type of way.

Before I get into those trips, I want to quickly post some pictures from my Worms trip.

The whole institute had a "day out," and so all the fellowship students and the staff headed down to Worms and afterward to a winery nearby.

Worms could be a lovely city. I don't really know. We had a tour guide that at one point was a fellowship student at the IEG, where he worked on his degree in art history. With that in mind, he didn't really give us a tour of the city... he does art history. We spent nearly two hours circling and examining the "Dom," and though it's quite old and beautiful, it did deserve that much attention.

Furthermore, we didn't even take a moment to truly visit and talk about Luther's "stand" - I was told that the actual spot where it occured has only a marker on the ground. Blasphemy. Speaking on Lutheran blasphemy, what's this bird thinking?

We did visit the Jewish cemetery.

It's in the realm of a thousand years old, marking one of the oldest Jewish communities in Germany. The stones on top of Jewish graves are prayers.

And as I mentioned, we also paid a visit to a winery.

They produce over 150,000 bottles of Federwein per year. Federwein is a sweet wine, tasting a bit on the apple-juice side of drinks, particular to the Rhineland region. Outside of the institute one can find two or three Federwein stands.

posts on Ireland and Halle to come.

Dealing with the fall

2009-11-14T10:13:00.000-08:00

It must be a Yoder curse. Or, it might just be a personal curse. I don't know. But as my former friends and family in Iowa are enjoying an abnormal Indian summer, I am here in rainy, depressive Mainz. I believe we've seen the Sun two times in the past two weeks. Complain, complain, complain. With that said... I living in Germany! Every day I wake up blown away with the fact that I am over here getting to research.

I thought I would share with you a little of the scenery in which I've partaken in the last few weeks. I will say that I appreciate seeing the leaves change again. In Iowa, the leaves lack fortitude. They stay green and hang around on the trees until some random point in November when they decide as a whole to fall to the ground--no change in color, no seasonal transition. I am apt to say Iowa only has summer and winter: spring and fall get left behind.

The leaves along the Rhine were spectacular during the moments of dry weather.

Here's the footpath along the Rhine. I walk this path regularly and giant leaves produced by these trees aren't much for turning colors, but they could serve as life rafts if the Rhine should happen to flood. It's a daily chore for some guy with a straw broom to clear the path for meanderers like myself.

Here's a video of one of the musical groups that regularly plays in the city. They're one of the few groups that rock-out on the streets.

...and yes, I did just use the term "rock-out" for these guys.

I also got to take in another Mainz soccer game. We won again, 1-0 against Nuernberg ...and I finally bought a scarf. I am officially a committed fan.

And with the onset of autumn and winter my mind begins to wrestle with sin. For some reason, this time of year seems to awaken the desire for mortification and repentance. My favorite statue in the city is this one:

There's no description of the statue in the square where he sits, but I've given him a name: the mourning bishop. The disposition of the statue's body (helped along by the turning leaves) always makes me think about how our church deals with sin: especially its own. We tend to cover things up, or fire the pastor. And, yet, in the process we neglect the call to wrestle with our disobedience and to seek reconciliation and redemption. The moral state of the western world is inexcusable, but the prophetic voice of the church is muted by its own lack of self-reflection.

On a much lighter note: tomorrow I fly to Ireland for three days! I get to hang out with my BFFWM, Kristi, and take in the rainy-beauty of a country I've never seen before.

Gettin' it done

2009-11-05T02:31:00.000-08:00

Yesterday it began. I officially started writing the meat and potatoes portion of my dissertation. To be specific, I am working with a little philosophy, a little theology, and a little Francke in my third chapter about the sacraments.

In celebration of this momentous event, I thought I would share with you my "main" study-stop; where I go to get my work done. That is the one tragic thing about this fellowship. I don't have a true place to study in the building. We are not provided an office or work-space outside of our own rooms. And for those of you who know me, I have a terrible time working in my living space.

So, I head to Codex, a "bistro" connected to the Gutenberg museum.

The afternoon work environment is good, and I'm usually able to get something done while sipping on really expensive coffee. (I wish the Germans would stop making their coffee out of gold!)

In the evenings, I head to the building's conference room, or study in my room. But below is an example of why I get nothing done.

Beware ye trout of Germany!

2009-10-28T14:30:00.000-07:00

That's right folks. As of 2:00pm whatever-the-heck-the-time-zone-over-here-is time, I am am a licensed fisher of the German state of Rhineland-Pfalz. (click here for the boring details.) Now all I need to do is get a license that allows me to fish in certain regions of the state... ahhh, the sweet smell of bureaucracy.

Zoltan Exposed!

2009-10-26T03:25:00.000-07:00

If you haven't read my story of Zoltan, do that first before going any further!

I've held back from sharing this email that I received from Tanja, a church friend, about Zoltan until I obtained the necessary material. But now that I have what I need, I will share with you Tanja's email (albeit, my translation of her email):

Peter, you won't believe what just happened to me! I was actually on my way home, heading towards my bike that was parked on Hofchen near the Reformhaus. We had just finished worship practice, so I was singing as I approached my bike and began to make my way home. Suddenly, an old man with a white beard and thick Hungarian accent started talking to me. AND YES, IT WAS ZOLTAN!!! He kept talking and talking during our conversation (it seemed like it would never end). He didn't want to let me go home. Instead he wanted to have dinner with me and pass the time talking at the bus stop. But all I was able to say to him is that I had to use the toilet, and I that I needed to tear myself away. [translator's note: a VERY good reason!] I'll give you [Peter] the details when we see each other again.

When we saw each other again, Tanja described Zoltan to a "t", and mentioned how he followed her into McDonald's where she was able to use the restroom and eat something. By 12 am Tanja had to aggressively bid Zoltan farewell and make her way home.

All that to say, I saw Zoltan at the Antioch church yesterday, and he was as lively and friendly as ever. We made plans to see each other, even go out for coffee, in the upcoming weeks. We'll see if that happens. BUT!!! I was able to get a picture with him! [I knew this cell phone would come in handy...no pun intended.]

The Bundesliga

2009-10-25T16:58:00.000-07:00

I could lie to you and claim the main reason I returned to Germany was to write my dissertation. I could ramble on about the important role my research plays in understanding the roots of American evangelicalism... blah, blah, blah. But, let's be honest. I came over here to watch soccer--to watch world-class soccer. So, it was a no-brainer when Dominic asked me if I wanted to join him for a Mainz FSV 05 game this past Saturday.

We arrived around 2:30, surrounded by the swarms of red scarfs and "trikots", and the game started shortly there after. And made our way to the "Stehplatz"--the German way of saying standing room. And like most standing-room-only spots, this was where the real fans lived.

The stadium is one of the smaller for a Liga 1 team. Mainz just moved into the first league this season.

[I suppose it might be worth noting here that professional soccer in Germany is organized much differently than professional sports in America. The league in which you play depends on your performance. Each year teams from the leagues ("Liga") change in accordance with whether they won their league or came in last. It would be like opening Major League baseball up so that every Minor League team had the possibility of moving up into the Majors. The winners of their conferences would move into Major League divisions, and losers of their respective divisions would move down into the minor league conferences. An interesting idea, if you ask me.]

The game was a blast, and we (yes, I say "we" as I am now officially a Mainz fan) beat Freiburg 3 -0. Intermingled with the goals were chats and claps, cheers and moans. I've come appreciate the relationship between athletes and fans here. Both understand each others' role in the grand scheme of things. The fans cheer and ...well... pay money, and the players show there appreciation, clapping for the fans and leading the stands in cheers afterwards. If only American athletes had this perspective. Instead our ballplayers brush off the spectators, as if they were entitled to our appreciation and ...well... money. Ahhh, humility always does the soul good.

As should be expected, the Mainzers have their own tradition before the game starts...

Some time in the wilderness

2009-10-23T14:26:00.000-07:00

In the past month-and-a-half I've been blessed with the chance to do some hiking in the wilds of Germany. In fact, God's gifted me with a set of "hiking" friends...well, sort of. More like, a set of friends with whom I seem to end up hiking. But there is a decent story behind this.

My second Sunday visiting the Stadtmission church, Tanja invited me to go "laufen" with a bunch of friends, which I took took to be a request to go running, and I quickly (and rightly) said no. I am too unhealthy to run. Then she explained that it meant to go walking. I thought, "Sure. That sounds good. We'll get together and walk up and down the Rhine...sounds like a relaxing thing to do for a couple hours on a Sunday."

Next thing I know, I am riding in a car with Tanja, Monica, and Monica's son, Nils, to some distant place. After an hour wait in traffic, where we were literally walking around on the autobahn waiting for the the road to clear, we made our way to a Berg in Germany called Felsenmeer. It's located just south of Darmstadt.

Weaving up the side of the mountain I could not help but think of my parent's place in North Carolina. There is something about the smell of the mountains on an early Autumn-like day, where the rising mist mediates between the heavens and the wildness we call a forest, that makes me hate being an academic.

Did I mention we were headed to a mountain? Yeah, not for a nice leisurely walk along the river. Problem #1: I didn't come prepared for hiking - I was wearing sandals, shorts, and a t-shirt (the last two are mentioned in relation to the fact that we were at a relatively higher and colder elevation). And I definitely didn't come prepared to climber over and around car size boulders!

But, Felsenmeer is amazing! This natural river of boulders stretches from the heights of the mountain down into the valley, where a businessman wisely built a biergarten-like eatery. The sight of the rocks running down the mountain, if you can recognize it through the see of children playing on them, was a blatant reminder of how astonishing God must be.

[I do want to note the shirt I am wearing! We happened beat Penn State the day before! Go Hawkeyes!]

This was my first event outside of Mainz, and my introduction to Dara, Andreas, and their son, Liam. When I first met Andreas, all I could think of is that as much as I try, I'm not tough. This guy, with a shaven head and muscles bursting out of his shirt, at first appearance looked like the type of guy who kicks other men in the crotch as a means of introduction. HE, Andreas, is tough.

But like most married men, he'r quite soft on the inside. Fluent in at least three languages, Andreas (the air traffic controller) was just plain cool. I spent most of the time chatting with him about anything and everything.

Once at the bottom, we were greeted by a small fair-like setup, where kids could ride ponies and adults could eat wurst and drink beer. Gosh I love Germany.

So, we parted ways (several hours later than I had initially expected!) and that was that.

Until I met with Andreas, Dara, and Tanja for dinner last week. They invited me to out again, and I could of sworn, I mean swooorrrrrn, that my question about our activities was clear. Are we going "laufen"? No, replied Tanja, we are going to "wandern." Now, I should have known "wandern" means hiking, but I thought that the negation in her wording (and the fact that she said it would be nothing like the Felsenmeer thing) meant we'd go, well, for a walk through a town (where I got that idea, I don't know) and grab something to eat. Wrong.

Instead we jumped in a car (Andreas sweet-as Mercedes SUV), and headed.... to another mountain. Ahhh, but this time I knew I should come a little more prepared. So, I laid aside the sandals for adidas shoes, the shorts for jeans, and the t-shirt for a fleece. But the shoes were no better than the sandals, and the onset of winter-like weather had me wishing for a snow cap. But, Tanja was right. We only briefly hiked the Moltkefelsen. Again, it was beautiful.

Arching over the side of the mountain is the Adlerbogen, constructed in 1880. Beautiful and out-of-place. Seems like I could say that about a lot of things on this earth.

So... we finished the small hike, grabbed some refreshments in Donnersberg, and made our way back to Dana, Andreas, and Liam's house. There we ate some great German food (consisting of meat and potatoes), played an UNO-like card game, and had a Kampf-like struggle getting their rabbit (that is apparently allowed wander the house) out of it's hiding place behind the couch. Below is proof that I played no role in the craziness of attempting to retrieve that bunny. (Note to viewers, the lady straddling the couch is Liam's GRANDMOTHER!)

A Friday of pictures

2009-10-17T08:25:00.000-07:00

Here's a few pictures from my wanderings on Friday:

A true fashion guard-dog (note the blurred man approaching - he was trying to keep me from taking a picture. Is there something special about the dog that I don't know?)

Here's my favorite Weinstube in Mainz. The students get together bi-weekly, and this is one of the more favored places to congregate.

These next two are for Kristi.... my faith BFFWM. First, and I don't think a translation needed, here's a photo of an upcoming German movie. (Remember folks: you can click on an image to make it larger.)

Second, Kristi, I couldn't help thinking of you as I walked by this "Renaissance Fair"-like stand set up in a mall here.

my non-existent music career

2009-10-14T09:02:00.000-07:00

So, the one good thing about the musician-side of my life, is that it's not real. I mean, it's real on facebook, and real when I give two or three concerts per-year (even that number is a bit of a stretch), but in reality, my rock-star-status only serves as an escape from the "scholarly" life.

Last night I noticed the elevator turned off, with the door wide open, so I thought it would be a great photo-op for my budding musical career. Here's some of the results:

1000 demons, not a good thing

2009-10-12T15:21:00.001-07:00

I went out with some people from the church last night, and after coffee at a cafe, we headed to McDonald's for some food.

I have been holding off, and will continue to do so, on telling you about the small group from church I've become a part of. I'm waiting until I have a picture to include in my description. The one thing I will say now is that these Christian friends, given to me by God, are one of the most overwhelming blessings I've experienced her[e]. They're just a cool bunch of people, simple as that.

Back to the story. Three of us were sitting in Mikey-D's, two watching the other eat, when this disheveled man walked straight up to me. I know what your thinking, and no, it wasn't Zoltan. (Although, there is a forthcoming post on the whereabouts of Zoltan.)

So, this guy walks up, and stares at me and says, "Do you have my drivers license?" Now, the first thing you should know is that I didn't have no clue what the German phrase for "drivers license" was, so I didn't even understand his question. (As should be expected, the German's use the word strange combination "Fuehrerschein" for our American "driver's license." Literally, it means "Leaders license." This probably explains the overly aggressive way German's drive. They are just misinterpreting their own word.)

Anyway, all of a sudden this man, who is clearly deranged, begins to speak to me in almost fluent English, asking me if I was American. (Imagine sitting in a Burger King, and some homeless guy walks up to you, begins to speak with you in English, and then suddenly begins to speak fluent Czech.) I was completely caught off guard. I quickly told him I was American, but that I spoke German, too. He then asked me if I was the Police. At that moment, I decided I wouldn't hold back. So I asked him:

"Bist du ein Christ?" [Translation: Are you a Christian?]

With that, he begins to tell me that he is, crossing himself several times, and then tells me that I am a devil, full of 1000 demons. What? I mean, people have told me I have devilishly good looks, but I would never put myself in the class of "demon-guy." We all stared at him with our jaws dropped. There were moments when we wondering if he was going to get violent, but after a brief exchange, he moved towards to cashiers.

But, after a half-minute he returned, only to walk by me and say "I will be in heaven, but you will be in hell." Wow. The management ended up chasing him out of the eatery, but all three of us were in shock. First, this guy walked directly up to me, with no reason. In fact, the others thought that he actually knew me. Second, I still can't get over the fluency of his English. How does a man in such a life-situation, speak with such accuracy? Thirdly, his reaction to my question was wild. Just wild.

It confirmed in my mind, that we can medicate and medicate, suppress and make people forget, but drugs can not fix people. Whether or not this was demonic activity (yup, crazy talk via Peter) I do not know. But, it certainly reminded me that we face a real spiritual enemy in this world, that is seeking to thwart the redemptive work of God.

Meeting Melanchthon...

2009-10-07T14:44:00.000-07:00

I met another man this week, possibly as scary as Zoltan. The institute's director was gifted a large piece of reproduced art, and I found out about the donation by walking head-on into the baptismal font of Philip Melanchthon.

It's almost life-size:

Meeting Zoltan...

2009-10-07T11:22:00.000-07:00

Hmmm, how do I begin?

Last week (I think it was Thursday) Sam, Jamie, and I were on our way back from the Real store (pronounce "re-Al", it's a German version of Walmart). We were, and still are, searching for rugs to cover our bare floors in the institute. We had just crossed into the Old city of Mainz, walking over Grosse Bleiche Strasse, and a light rain began to distract us from our conversation.

All of sudden, this disheveled elderly man interrupted us with "Entschuldigung!" His bike stood parked near an entrance to the St. Peter Kirche, and he left it to the rain and moved hurriedly toward us. "Entschuldingung!" [for the sake of my American readership, the rest of our German conversation will be translated, and, well, manipulated according to my own desires.]

"Are you Christians?" he asked

"Yes." I replied, and at that moment I knew he was looking to score some evangelism points. He, for his part, noticed my accent.

"Are you Americans?"

"Yes" I remarked. Sam and Jamie, who have a decent grasp of the language, desired to stay in the background of the conversation, so from this answer onward the elderly man and I had a back and forth dialogue, mostly about his church. Early on, he knew that I attended the Stadtmission church, but he was determined to get me through the doors of Antioch Kirche; especially when he found out that I played the guitar.

By the time we pried ourselves away from the man, and his propensity to continue a dead conversation with words like "Bitte" and "Entschuldigung," I had verbally agreed that I might come and visit his church. I had the slight feeling that I was going to walk into some cultish group, so I made sure to include the word "maybe." [Author's note: he is also a prolific user of "Warten Sie" and "Verstehen Sie" with no concern for the actual meaning of the phrases... to him, they all mean, "Listen to me".]

Well Sunday came around, and during the morning service at Stadtmission I met a guy named Thilo. He was a student at the University (which most Germans begin at 20 and don't finish until they are in their mid-to-late twenties), and he recognized the church to which I was invited. "Yeah," Thilo revealed, "it's a charismatic church." Great. Just what I want to do on a Sunday evening: walk into a charismatic church and pretend to be a real participant. What I would come to learn is that when a German uses the label "charismatic" she means that the people play guitars and raise their hands in the air during worship; that which we would expect to come across in every American evangelical church. If you want to find a church that speaks in tongues, you need to specifically use the word "penticostische" --and even then I don't know what you'll get over here.

Well, I spent the afternoon wrestling with whether or not I would go to Antioch. The old man said there'd be English speaking women. Yeah, that's right. Forget the Gospel and the whole worship thing. I actually only wanted to run into some women my age. ...now back to the story.

I finally decide to go. The church meets about a 15 minute walk from my place, so I had to pace myself to make sure I didn't get there too early. Too bad it didn't make a difference. They started their service 15 minutes late. So, there I was, standing in this cafe area with about 6 other people in the room, trying not to look out of place. Not easy to do in a church of 12 people.

I met the pastor, an American guy from Texas. He is a great guy. In fact, the church was just fine. They were trying to pull off a non-denominational-feeling church, but they didn't have the worship band (we sang to cds) nor the flashing technology (the overhead projector reminded me of junior camp worship at Wabanna). But, all-in-all, I enjoyed myself.

And guess who was there? The crazy old man. I was told he randomly shows up to church, and it was apparent to everyone that he was playing one card short of a full deck. We had a brief introduction before the service, during which I learned his name "Zoltan" and he learned that I was a church historian. The latter excited Zoltan more than anyone in the room actually expected. As was expected, throughout the service Zoltan interrupted the pastor, reminding him that I was participating, what I could offer as a historian, and where the pastor might have misspoke. His outspokenness gave rise to those uncomfortable moments where the pastor had to openly silence him.

When I met Zoltan on the street he mention he was the son of Hungarian immigrants, and his German was laced with a noticeable accent. After the service/Bible study, a bunch of us stood around the kitchen area and drank soda. Zoltan began to interrogate me: Where was I from? Where did I study? What did I study? In fact, he became quite ecstatic when he found out I studied Pietism.

"Ok," he began, "Who was the founder of Pietism?"

A simple question right? I thought so. First, this man certainly hasn't studied the historiography surrounding Pietism, that several historians have set forth arguments defending various conceptions of the term. So, I answered quite plainly, "Philipp Jakob Spener was the founder."

"NEIN!!!!!" He shouted.

I was completely shocked. Zoltan addressed me with aggressive and loud words: "That is German Pietism! Pietism began with those terrible Calvinists and Puritans. Who was the founder of Pietism?" I answered the same way again. And again, "Nein!" ripped from his mouth.

The people around us were beginning to feel uncomfortable. They continued to try to silence him, thinking that Zoltan was scaring me away. But, he wouldn't let it go. For ten minutes he kept challenging my answer. Finally, I told him that our discussion was finished, and that he had to deal with the fact that people have different ideas on the subject.

Ok, good. Things calmed down. Some of the church staff took the opportunity to describe their situation. Then out of nowhere Zoltan asked another loaded question: "Where do you go to church in American?" I say "loaded" because earlier the pastor warned me that Zoltan had a deep dislike for Calvinists (he kept referring to us as "schlechtige Calvinismus").

So I answered very politically, "I am an Evangelical." Well. This set him off again. At one point in his tirade, he said my response was unchristian. Man! I couldn't believe this guy. He wouldn't get off my case, and finally, I said "No more. We are done talking."

By that point, everyone else was ready to close the church up and get out. I saw this as an opportunity for a quick escape, so I began to make my way for the door. For some reason, I was distracted by another church worker, who invited me to their movie-night on Thursday, and during those few little moments Zoltan was able to grab his stuff and head in my direction.

"RUN!" I thought.

And with that, I hurriedly shuffled out the building, hearing Zoltan yell my name in the relative distance. I made it out the front door and wove through the streets, trying to avoid his general direction. Whew. It was over.

Or, so I thought. Monday I headed out of the institute and found a nice cafe to drink coffee and read a Francke sermon. I came back to my room around dinner time to find the "missed call" function on my phone lit-up. I checked it, and noticed a secretary had called me. Why? Several possibilities rolled through my head. I hadn't received my monthly stipend and maybe she was trying to get my bank information right. So, I ventured down to her office, only to remember she was gone for the day. Oh well. But when I check my mailbox, I found this note:

It reads:
Dear Peter
I greet you
[indecipherable]
Zoltan

HE CAME TO MY WORK!!!!

Ok, that completely caught me off-guard. What did he say? How did he interact with the secretary?--surely that's why she called me. I quickly wrote a note apologizing to her if Zoltan had interrupted her work, and went back to my normal business.

As I was sitting in my room around 7:30pm that evening, the floor phone rang. I was purposefully late in going to answer it. I'm still at that point with German where I find it difficult to talk over the phone. As I stepped out the door hoping to appear interested in helping, Vera, a Russian student, picked up the phone and said "Hello. Who? Peter? OK." As she hung the phone up, she pushed the button that allowed my mystery visitor to freely enter the institute. I freaked out!

"Who was that!?!?" I cried. "Was it an older man?"

"Yes" Vera said, with shock falling over her face.

"And you let him in?!!?? Ahhh! You just let a crazy man into the institute!"

With that, I ran in-and-out of my room, grabbing my jacket and locking my door, and ran out the stairwell on the opposite side of the building. I made my way to the nearby Iranian eatery, where I bought dinner and waited. I waited; 45 minutes to be exact. That would give Zoltan enough time to stop at my room, see I wasn't there, wait around for a few minutes, and finally give up and go home.

As I walked back to the institute, I thought to myself, "What the heck am I running from? It's a pretty simple situation. This guy needs to know it's not proper to come to someone's place of work/living uninvited and without any notice (especially when it's a dorm-room situation)." So, I decided I would kindly let him know that, if he was still there.

I came to the front door, turned the key, pushed my way in, and low-and-behold there stood Zoltan! He had a plastic grocery bag filled with who-knows-what and he quickly approached me.

"Listen Zoltan. It is improper for you to act this way." I made sure to let him know that he was not to show up at the institute unannounced, and with that out in the open, he and I talked for a few minutes about Sunday's conversation.

"I know, I know. Please Peter understand...." And then the Lord reminded me why I was a Christian. Zoltan continued, "I came to ask your forgiveness."

Man, as the words "I forgive you" came out of my mouth, I was leveled with my sin. Even my response wasn't sincere. Whether or not he was in his right mind, Zoltan knew the Gospel: it meant redeeming that which was a mess.

So for the next 20 minutes we talked. He came to find out I was a Calvinist, and surprisingly, he was alright with that. We made a deal that we could meet weekly at a cafe and talk, and it seemed that everything was going great. Until....

Zoltan noticed a monograph in one of the bookcases:

"Ahhh! Look Pietism!" He proclaimed. I did my best to try to explain to him what Confessionalism was, and that's when it happened:

"Who's the founder of Pietism?" He asked, as if it was his first time.

"No!" I said. "We will not talk about that tonight! When we meet we can talk about that." Wow. I couldn't believe it. In fact, I began to laugh when he asked it.

Ahhhh, Zoltan. When I see him Sunday, I will be providing him with an article from J. Wallmann about Spener's role in the rise of Pietism, and I am almost certain that we'll be grabbing coffee sometime next week.

Food and Football

2009-10-04T04:52:00.000-07:00

When it comes to cooking, I've been quite limited since arriving in Germany; not limited by technology, but limited by edible resources. I've grown accustomed to my style of cooking: a conglomeration that can best be described as stir-fry, minus the soy-sauce or chestnut oil. Instead, I would mix salsa and alfredo sauces to construct my seasoning. This "sauce" of mine would be added to a mix of meat, vegetables, rice-and-or-pasta. But, alas, I couldn't find salsa here in Germany. And when I finally did, I couldn't find alfredo sauce. A few days ago I came across a store with salsa (hooray!), and on Friday I found a "cheese sauce" I could combine with the salsa. Let me tell you, I was overjoyed with the finished product! Delicious and uncomplicated.... kinda like me ;) . (...ok, maybe not. But, as a single guy, I've got to throw that out there every once-in-a-while.)

I guess it just felt nice to stand in my kitchen and finally cook something I knew would taste good.

In addition to a great meal, German sports broadcasting offered this on Friday night:

It's hard to describe the actually feeling I had watching these men run into each other. I seriously don't think they had a clue. Have you ever watched little kids (no more than five years old) run around in the back yard, or in a pee-wee league, with no idea exactly why they were running around with a football? The child holding the ball usually ran in circles around his opposition, overjoyed (expressed in a streams of giggles) that he had yet to be caught and that the audience of grown-ups still found his antics amusing. The football game would usually end with that child running into another, bumping his head, and irrupting in tears. Now, transfer that image to a professional game, played before thousands of German fans. Amusing to say...the most.

For those of you used to watching football, these guys played like a bad Division III football team. The actual players looked like they had just punched out at the bar before they suited up for the game: old, ragged, and confused. I don't think either of these teams (it was Berlin versus Kiel) could compete against a high school team in the States and survive. Ok, that's a bit of an exaggeration, but you get the point.

The peeping-tom opportunity...

2009-09-30T13:13:00.000-07:00

So, I realize that I haven't given you the opportunity to see exactly where I live - the environment inhabited by devote German scholars (ha, ha). So, here's a brief glimpse of the Institute for European History in Mainz for you voyeurs (in the second sense of the word!) out there.

The building was originally built in the second decade of the 17th century for the Jesuits and used as a center for philosophical and theological instruction. In the 1790s the building took up secular functions in the city. It was used as a barracks (1792), a school house, and an office building.

In August of 1942 the building was bombed and destroyed, and ten years later the city rebuilt the structure. Now, it houses the university's journalism department and the IEG.

God's shone a little goodness my way. Sam and Jamie, Fulbrights from America, showed up at the institute this past week. We decided to wander over to the small attempt at a carnival that was erected next to river this past weekend. Following the lead of Jamie, Sam and I ventured into the Haunt house horror ride, but I think the barfing old man drew me in as much as anything else.

And what carnival would be complete without a little bumper car action? I really wanted to jump into one of these speedsters, but alas, I had no one on whom I could unleash my vengeance.

A theologian

2009-09-29T06:36:00.000-07:00

Here's a video I came across of an interview between my former theology professor, Dr. Douglas Kelly, and Derrik Thomas. If you can get past Kelly's strong southern accent, he is one of the most brilliant Reformed theologians walking this earth. The interview gets good around the 3:40 mark (if you want to skip ahead). Anyone out there considering seminary, and especially a Reformed seminary, I highly encourage you to consider Reformed Theological Seminary in Charlotte. I emphasize the Charlotte campus because it has collected a group of great Reformed Christian thinkers, Dr. Kelly being a great example. (If I'm not mistaken, the man is fluent in 6 languages, not including "southern".)

Rockin' in the free world!!!

2009-09-26T03:56:00.001-07:00

So these two had been playing for a couple of afternoons this week. I am pretty sure they lost their way from the '80s bar they had a show, and never found their way back. I personally enjoy the on-stage theatrics of the lead guitarist, done while sitting on a bench situated in a pedestrian walk-way. I can't say I enjoy anything about the singer, his out-of-tune guitar, or his obnoxious voice.

And here's when the cops show up because an old guy, living nearby (and seen yelling at the man next to the singer), complained. You can make out the rocker saying "it's a hard job sometimes". I still can't figure out why he kept speaking in English. He was clearly a German. ...ah, Mainz. Just when I think it can't get any more interesting, bam.

The elections are coming.

2009-09-21T14:56:00.000-07:00

Today...other than running around trying to get my bike fixed (I blew out the back tire on Saturday)... I got to meet up with an old friend from high school and her husband. They moved here from Maryland to work with a government agency, and I thought it'd be best to take them out while they were still dealing with jet-lag. That would probably improve my chances of coming off like a normal, well-adjusted person (see video at bottom). ...I think I was successful, I think.

The best thing about the whole get-together was that I was able to make it coincide with the CDU rally happening by the Dome. In fact, we sat around and chatted until Chancellor Angela Merkel gave her speech. Yup. that's right. I saw Merkel give a speech... and I understood, oh, umm, about ten percent of it. But, ooohhh, was I stirred. I almost joined the Germany Army! Ok, maybe not, but I did order another beer.

Fun yes, and even better with an old friend. But truth be told, I can't decide who I'm going to side with in this upcoming election. Should I go-with-the-flow and be a Merkel/CDU supporter, or go with the SPD candidate, Steinmeier? What about the green party or the left party? (click on the first image and read the trailer.)

...now wait just one cotton-pickin' second. Are you telling me that I can be a part of the Pirates Party? Heck yes! ...I mean, "yes we can!" In all honesty, I was beside myself when I saw this group set up a short distance away from the CDU rally (which coincidentally drew a huge crowd - bigger then the SPD rally). I thought it was a joke, and I guess their willingness to disrupt Merkel's speech proved I was right. Another fellowship student here told me that the only plank in their political platform (all puns intended) is for the complete deregulation of the exchange of digital information. Yup, that's right, they are fighting - and fighting the good fight - for the opportunity to download free music and videos without going to jail. You can imagine the demographic make-up of their party: college students who put down their X-box controller and stepped into the light of day just long enough to make noises at Merkel. Sad but true.

But to lighten things up, I couldn't stop laughing at this video today. As much as I laugh, I also realize that I am probably becoming one of these guys. Yikes.

The streets are alive with the sound of music...

2009-09-18T08:26:00.000-07:00

On any given day, I am confronted with some variant of what we normally call "music". On most days, it's actually good. There were some Turkish men the other day breakin' it down a few blocks away. And then there are other days, when you just stand there baffled.

This guy was set up across the street from my building, and I only wish I had my camera when I first walked out. He was doing some sort of German spoken-word song to the preset melody of his keyboard. When I got back from reading, he was still there, so I decided to make him famous. Sorry for holding the camera sideways. I forgot that I wouldn't be able to turn it back (or is there a way?).

The Church in Germany...

2009-09-17T07:39:00.001-07:00

I've waited a little while before posting about the condition and appearance of Christianity in Germany. Mainly for one reason: I didn't understand it myself. And truthfully, I still don't quite understand it. It's quite clear that the majority of the country has thrown off the "burden" of Christianity, and it's hard not to miss the destructive nature of a godless society: women are objectified, life is quantified, and the hurting remain in their pain. Saddening yes, but there are seeds of hope scattered around.

So, say you are an evangelical, like me, looking for a church in Germany. Here's what you need to know:

First, please, please don't impose expectations of the Christianity you know in America on the churches over here. Even though the churches here gave birth to Protestantism in the US, they're still vastly different. (...and now realize that I am about to do what I just asked you not to do.)
There are two "major" branches of the Christian church: Catholicism and Protestantism. I say major because Germany has a long tradition of linking the church and the state. However weak or strong you believe the ties are, there are ties. Put it this way: if you want to be a pastor, you'll get your theology degree from the a state-run university. And, the German who is still attached to one of the two major churches will tithe by means of government taxation. Someone once excused this church/state tithing process by saying the government's taxing agency runs so smoothly, and it would cost the church so much more to maintain a comparable system, that the logical answer is to have the state collect the church's tithes. Whatever.
These two major branches are represented by the Katholische Kirche and the Evangelische Gemeinde. Some time back the Lutheran and Reformed churches came under the same roof (I know, I know, Luther is rolling over in his grave), and so the EG is normally understood to be the Protestant church. The best way to describe the EG would be to think of the mainstream denominations in America. Just as your chances of running into a solid, evangelically-leaning, congregation in America are hit-or-miss, the same is true for Germany.
In reaction to the liberal theology predominant in the EG, two Protestant manifestations have occurred. There is the "free church" (Frei Kirche/Gemeinde), which is mostly made up of baptist churches (baptistische Kirche, Baptisten) or what might best be described as Bible churches (Evangelische Freikirche), but both are baptist in their orientation. The baptist churches often resemble the independent baptist churches of America. There is also the Methodist church (Evangelisch-methodistische Kirche), which is relatively like the United Methodist Church in the US.
An option for the American evangelical that I just discovered this last weekend is the Stadtmission Gemeinde. From what I've been told, they stand somewhere in between the state churches and the free churches. They are not connected to the states (thus expect an offering plate to come your way), but they are not as separatist as the free church. Here's a link to the church I am attending in Mainz.
I also don't want to leave out some other options: the Moravians (Evangelische-Brüder-Unitaet) and also the Mennonites and Bruedergemeinde churches.

The best thing to do when you get to your destination is do an internet search of churches in your town. There are a lot of free churches popping up that look and feel more like the Willow Creeks and non-denomination churches of America. You might run into one where you're headed.

I've been blessed with a great church in Mainz. I attended their service on Sunday and have begun meeting with a small group. I can't tell you how refreshing it was to be working through God's word with a group of people interested in both the depth of the Gospel and what it means for the oppressed in our world.

Flea Markets and Ingelheim

2009-09-14T07:26:00.000-07:00

So, I needed something to do this weekend. I still haven't had any success getting a fishing license in Germany, though I have had some possibilities arise. With that said, I decided to find a flea market in the area and see what I might find.

Ingelheim - that's where I headed. The paper said they were having some sort of celebration of generations, and frankly, I didn't exactly know what that meant. But I did see they were going to have some sort of "Flohmarkt" starting around 12. I slept in, walked up to the Bahnhof and jumped on a train.

Interestingly, I ended up sitting behind an older couple from Arizona. Somehow we got to the topic of politics, and they ended up being hard-core Republicans. I am not a Republican. Yes, I tend to side with the republican platform, but both parties are really screwed up right now. And, in a Reganesque way, there is this unfortunate trickle-down effect happening, where we are now so prone to call each other names and not understand the reasons for the other side's position. So, right now we have the left calling the right Nazis and the right calling the left Socialists (a bit ironic if you ask me). While I agreed with some of his critiques of our current political situation, I also recognized the underlying bitterness and destructiveness in his words.

I thought I had the political answers before landing out here: we need a third party. But, now that I am in Germany, I see it's not really a great solution. So, I just don't exactly know. I know that I am willing to stand under the umbrella of the "Crunchy Conservative" platform. But even this system is lacking. Maybe this is a good point to be reminded that we are pilgrims here, but not pilgrims that hide in caves until some type of trumpet blasts.

Did I mention I went to Ingelheim? Right...back on track. So I get to Ingelheim and wander around for about 45 minutes trying to find the Old Gymnasium (sort of like a high school), and when I got there, I was a bit surprised. There was a flea market, but the stands were full of children's toys and clothes. Phooey. So, I bought a bratwurst and headed into the older section of the town.

Surprise, Surprise. This little town was actually a really important place. Yeah, they had an old church (the Burgkirche) with a tower/steeple from the 12th century and an old wall around it (it seems like every town out here has one...boring! Ha!), but what I didn't know is that embedded in the suburban homes were the ruins of a complex - a palace - that Charlemagne built. Maybe the fascinating thing about this "palace" is that it was buried, forgotten, even though it housed royalty for hundreds of years. And humanity, in its drive for progress and power, was able to bury history. I don't believe man will ever lose that propensity: to bury history - to forget what has gone before. It gives a new taste to heaven when we consider that memories and history will remain a reality for us.

In my wandering, I also came across this cool statue of Sebastian Muenster, a scholar from the time of Luther. He was actually pretty famous for his work with Hebrew, Geography, and Cosmography. The church behind the statue stands over the hospital where he was born.

Here are some other interesting photos

The bottom is translated: In the Cross is Salvation, in the Cross is Life, in the Cross is Hope.

A memorial to fallen soldiers in WWII.

Strange things about Germans, Part 1

2009-09-12T15:11:00.001-07:00

I took a trip to Ingelheim today. I needed to get out. But I am too tired right now to write about the trip. So, I will begin a series entitled: Strange things about Germans. The point of the series? Well... none really. Just to let you know what you might run into when you cross over the Atlantic.

(I should mention that the series really began with my post about the walking habits of Germans, which still ticks me off!)

#1: Their window shades/blinds are on the outside of the windows

#2: You might see someone getting wedding pictures on an industrial loading pier. (Every bride or bride-to-be should take this photo into account when complaining about their wedding pictures!)

Introducing.... Betty-Sue

2009-09-09T07:15:00.001-07:00

So, here is my bike, repaired and cleaned. Her name? Well, I acted as any good politician would, and named her Betty-Sue.

Speaking of politicians, the German election is coming up at the end of the month, and the SPD (Sozialdemokratischen Partei Deutschlands) held a rally in the old city of Mainz yesterday. I made my way around the crowd, took some pictures, was surrounded by their version of secret-service men, and realized I was standing in the vicinity of where the SPD's "candidate" for Bundesminister, Frank-Walter Steinmeier, would walk. That would explain the well-positioned crowds of kids, wearing SPD shirts.

I guess I am becoming a bit disenchanted with the political process, regardless of the country. Luther was in many ways right that it is extremely hard (if not impossible) for a person to remain faithfully Christian and govern a state/country. And maybe, just maybe, the political situation in our country and here in Germany is a mirror for me. A mirror through which I am seeing the various ways I compromise my faith, my commitment(s). I stand as a hypocrite: I am able to point out how my politicians have failed me, but I avoid taking account of how I fail my God. The beauty of redemption is that propensity to fail is one-sided. In my moments of despair and regret, the Lord remains faithful. Cool beans.

I do need to point out, that some of the German's here find this SPD poster funny - it looks like Michael Hartmann over-did it when it comes to makeup. Is that lipstick I see?

The first of my problems with Germans...

2009-09-09T07:04:00.000-07:00

"Spacial awareness" - that's what I am calling it. German's don't have it. For some reason they don't exactly walk; they wander. Whether it's fast-paced or slow, Germans tend to wander, from side to side on the sidewalk. (And apparently, it has little to do with how much beer they've consumed that day.) Now, if I were to encounter a German in this situation, on a sidewalk, the maneuvering would be relatively simple.... I could get around him or her. Now make it a busy street, with groups of Germans walking, and it's utter chaos.

But, there is a further problem, and probably a more severe problem. That is, they tend to disregard their actual position on the sidewalk. It's common for three or four Germans to stop, shoulder-to-shoulder, in the middle of a sidewalk, with no regard for those around them. Why do they stop? Great question. But they do, and make no attempt to move to the side, or get out of the way of people who are actually walking ...I got so frustrated that I almost threw an elbow at an old man today. Uhhhg.

My fame... in case you missed it.

2009-09-07T13:43:00.000-07:00

So, I sat down with a scanner tonight and put this together. The online article doesn't "feature" my picture like the real-deal article did. So, for your (German) reading pleasure, here's that article that was written about the course (and me) two weeks ago:

Translation of article: Peter is a blessed man!

A little Nouwen to make the medicine go down...

2009-09-06T13:02:00.000-07:00

I still haven't read enough Henri Nouwen to fully appreciate him. But, I did read his Wounded Healer on the plane trip over here. And, since I just walked in and out of a church here where no one attempted to stop and greet me, and since I just walked the Rhein River where young lovers showed just how European they were, I thought his chapter on loneliness was quite fitting.

"We live in a society in which loneliness has become one of the most painful human wounds. The growing competition and rivalry which pervade our lives from birth have created in us an acute awareness of our isolation. This awareness has in turn left many with a heightened anxiety and an intense search for the experience of unity and community. ..."

"...I would like to voice loudly and clearly what might seem unpopular and maybe even disturbing: The Christian way of life does not take away our loneliness; it protects and cherishes it as a precious gift. Sometimes it seems as if we do everything possible to avoid the painful confrontation with our basic human loneliness, and allow ourselves to be trapped by false gods promising immediate satisfaction and quick relief. But perhaps the painful awareness of loneliness is an invitation to transcend our limitations and look beyond the boundaries of our existence. The awareness of loneliness might be a gift we must protect and guard, because our loneliness reveals to us an inner emptiness that can be destructive when misunderstood, but filled with promise for him who can tolerate its sweet pain."

Giant Pigs and more!

2009-09-05T11:07:00.000-07:00

Let's be honest. We seldom, if ever, wake up and think, "Man, I wonder how that giant pig is doing out front?" I mean, sure there's a slight possibility you might utter those words if you actually were a pig farmer, but what if you're living in an historic building smack in the middle of a tourist-trap German city? Well anything is possible, right?

Yup, walked outside today - a day where I woke to the sounds of bagpipes and jazz - and found a giant pig, nipples included, stretched out in front of my "house." And, to make things better, when I returned from my walk, there were kids with their heads stuck in the nipple holes.

Where did I walk? I was trying to find this used bike shop on the other side of the city. I need a bike. Simple as that. I heard yesterday that there was the possibility of grabbing one of the unused bikes in our garage. But my impatience got the best of me, and I couldn't wait for Herr Koch (our building manager) to get back to me.

So I walk to this shop. It took forever, and I essentially walked into a bike junkyard. One thing is for sure, Germans are willing to pay a fortune for bikes. There's a shop around the corner from my building in which I can't find a bike under 700 Euros. That's a lot of American dollars. Well, nothing caught my eye, but I felt like I needed to buy something. I walk a heck of a long way. So, (and yes I am embarrassed about this) I paid 6 Euros for a can of WD40. Yup. Walk all the way home shaming myself for such a waste of money.

But the WD40 did come in handy. I was sitting in front of my computer around dinner time, and Herr Koch knocked on my door and handed me the keys to the locks on a sweet bike in the garage. It needs some work. The back rim is funky and the back tire goes flat, but it's a free bike (a great bike at that). I am only posting the pre-cleaning pictures for now, until I fix the back tire and take it for a spin.

So here she is. I need a name for her. Any suggestions?

The Halle Experience, Part 2

2009-09-05T03:28:00.000-07:00

I am a dangerous man right now. At least, I was told that same thing while learning Greek in seminary. When you think you know what’s being said, but in all truthfulness have little grasp of the language, you are capable of make some serious mistakes.

Have I made any “serious” mistakes? Ummmm, not to my knowledge – not yet. But, I am a dangerous man.

Outside of the course and the conference, Halle is a fascinating city (for me). I can’t remember if I already said this, but while I was staying in the local hostel I described it to a traveling Texas student named Nick as a post-industrial German city. After the wall came down in ’89 a lot of Germans fled the east for the comforts of the west. The migration left eastern cities desolate, almost like ghost towns. Halle stood in this condition for a while, and only in the past 10 or 15 years has the city begun to recover from the decades of soviet oppression. Many buildings still stand vacant, falling apart, but they’re images of a former beauty. Even in their current state, the structures reflect beautiful eighteenth century (and earlier) architecture.

I wish I had taken some pictures of the buildings. Sorry. I’ll do that during my visit in November. Although here’s one of the main buildings in Halle; it’s the Landgericht (Courthouse) building.

The interesting thing is the statement above the door: “Recht muss recht bleiben” (“Justice must remain just”) It’s a pretty interesting quote considering the trending of what I might call our global culture.

Anyway, on the Thursday before my course ended I began talking to a girl in my class, and after she found out I was in the hostel, she offered that I stay in the apartment above hers. Although I thought she owned the whole building, she only rented, but the researcher of eastern art above her gave her the option of letting people stay there while he was gone. Her name? Dorothea, which has now become one of my favorite names for girls. She’s a single mother, beginning work on here doctorate. And she is the first example of a “Hernnhutter” that I’ve ever met. Her father is Catholic and mother is Protestant. She attends a Catholic church, but also was involved with the Moravian church. So, she stays faithful to the Catholic tradition, while attending and maintaining a Hernnhutter disposition. The affiliation is not important for her, only the heart of Christianity. Of course there are problems (in my mind) with this position, but it was interesting to interact with a person who has some of the same inclinations Pietists 300 years ago did. The found themselves, like the Waldensians, staying faithful to their organized church while conducting group meetings that reflected a broader vision of the church.

On Tuesday, a group from the conference took a tour of the gardens at Wörlitz. It was this beautiful property, where a lake and canal system stands. The water is engulfed by statues, old monuments, and sacred buildings. I was surprised to hear that the park is open 24 hours a day, and that the boats that they push through the canal allow you to have picnics on board. Most interesting of all is that they say the prototype for the White House is DC is on the property. Here are some pictures of the canal and proto-white house.

The apartment was nice. The kitchen and living room were connected and led into his office/study. From there you could walk into the bedroom with a deck that stood over the open area inside the building. I had free internet, and great conversation for breakfast and diner.

Thea and I went and saw what I thought was a hilarious movie: Ich Kandidiere. It’s playing off the upcoming elections in Germany, and features this comedian who’s pulling a pseudo-Borat thing. Though the other participants are aware that he’s only acting, the film is set up to make you believe his character, who is an older newspaper reporting, is going around and actually interviewing important politicians and entertainers. He tries to be like Obama, and mistranslates his slogan "Yes We Can" with "Yes Weekend." Here’s a trailer:

I’m going to have to download the soundtrack. The songs he sang were pretty darn funny.

So, I left Mainz and the free apartment on Wednesday, with the option of being able to stay there when I return. I’ll definitely take that up! And now for Mainz….the first goal: buy a bike.

The Halle Experience, Part 1

2009-09-03T04:30:00.000-07:00

I was a bit more preoccupied with the conference than I had expected, so I decided to split the trip up into two entries.

First, the Franckesche Stiftungen and the conference: I haven’t shared much about what happened in Halle, and (obviously) I think it’s pretty important in the development of Christianity during the 19^th and 20^th centuries. Here’s the deal. This guy August Hermann Francke – well, he was Lutheran, but he was tired of the way Lutheranism looked and acted after the Thirty Years War. Following the lead of his mentor and friend, Philipp Jakob Spener, Francke sought to revitalize the church through Bible studies and pious living. He himself, took up that same call, becoming a professor in Halle and a pastor in the Glaucha-suburb, starting an orphanage, school, children’s hospital, a Bible press (with Canstein’s money and vision), and several other institutions. All of this, these Stiftungen, was to be an example of what has become known as Pietism. He saw his whole life as an expression of true salvation, as an overflow of his own dramatic conversion experience.

What stands today in Halle are magnificent buildings that can only be described as late-seventeenth century German Skyscrapers. The original Stiftungen buildings, built during the late 1690s, are seven stories high and two city blocks long. Though they fell into disrepair when the country was divided, the unification of Germany brought with it the restoration of the Franckesche Stiftungen. Now, it houses departments for the Martin-Luther Universität Halle/Wittenberg, the institute for Pietism research, centers for performing arts, and (of course) a museum.

It was during my tour of the museum, which I took last week, that I caught eye of a really fascinating portrait. I hadn’t noticed it in any of my other visits to the Stiftungen, but as I wandered away from the group and the tour guide (I had heard the programmed version several times) I came across a very interesting example of Pietism.

Here’s a portrait of Count Heinrich Wilhelm Ludolf (1655-1712).

He was a proponent of Pietism, and moved to London in 1678. He became an ambassador of sorts for Pietism, visiting Russia between 1692 and 1694, but the most interesting thing about the man was that he had a tattoo the length of his forearm.

I was told that he had it done in order to share the gospel with the inhabitants of Jerusalem. Now…that’s stinkin’ cool. I mean, you don’t know how tempted I was to get a tattoo after that. Especially, since they’ve developed this new variation of ink/pigment that makes removal a much simpler process.

Anyway, the conference went well. I caught glimpses, but was too scared to start conversations with Johannes Wallmann, Martin Brecht, Hans Schneider and the likes, but it seems as though God’s opened up some interesting doors for me. Jonathan Strom (seen in the picture presenting a paper) mentioned there’s a gentleman who teaches at the university in Mainz, and he apparently has a meeting twice a month to discuss Pietism. I am hoping that develops into something beneficial to my work here or at least helps me improve my German.

Over four hours!

2009-08-30T11:48:00.000-07:00

This will be a short one folks, and I have a reason. I just sat through what could only be called the "opening ceremonies" of this Pietism conference. For some reason, and this might be a German conference-wide thing, there were three greetings, given by the institute´s director, the university president, and the mayor, and then a lecture on experience in radical Pietism, and then a performance of Schubert by some fantastic trio of musicians. But.... all that was over four hours, and without a break! My butt is sore as all get-out (exactly where did that expression come from? Ahhh, who knows, but I like it.)

Anyway, I´ll post some decent pictures tomorrow. And to wet your appetite, one is of a 17th century tattoo that fascinates me.