Joy in Writing

I've put aside at least two posts this weekend. I also left a couple of post ideas festering in the fantasy stage of the process. My writer fantasies usually involves: 1) a blogpost changing the world for the better 2) it goes on to make me independently wealthy without damage to my soul 3) for my efforts, I am interviewed by Terry Gross on NPR's Fresh Air. It goes something like this:

TG: Un Till, I have to say, your posts are well-written, inspiring, and worth the outrageous wealth that has been showered upon you. Yet, you keep rejecting a stable career as an Abercrombie model to type on the internet. What is your secret?

UT: Well, Terry (may I call you Terry?), it all comes down to my humble refusal to obsess about myself.

Ahhh.... (dreamy smile before coming back to earth with a frightened shutter)

But the aforementioned posts tempted by anger, and anger, while sometimes appropriate, is a dangerous emotion to publish on the Internet. There is something to this, though. Part of writing's charm and joy is processing our emotional responses to something.

I've been thinking about why I enjoy writing. I wish I enjoyed building machines as some of my relatives do. Building things create beauty and discovery and economic stability, not to mention tremendous opportunity to practice generosity. But I enjoy opening up one of those glowing built things and typing words on it (in between reading words at other growing places). Writing helps me make sense of my reactions to what I read and experience; it helps me sort out my messy top drawer of emotion, imagination, thought and memory. When I'm finished, I better understand close things like my daughter's voice or distant things like another country's national tragedy. Not that I ever truly understand them, but it takes me down the road, loosening some convictions and tightening others. Posting these thoughts where others can read them gives them a measure of discipline and accountability that was not otherwise there. I've journaled before, and I'll probably do so again, but the results are usually (not always!) a fire hose of free-writing gibberish, offering me only outlet without light. The idea that someone may actually read it means I have to make the swarm of bees that I call my brain somehow coherent. And (to the best of my abilities) fair, honest and respectful. Or completely silly.

When he completed the Narnia series, C.S. Lewis received a lot of mail from children asking him if he would ever write any new books about the land of Aslan, Lucy and Caspian. Lewis always wrote back, "no," but he encouraged the children to write their own Narnia books. "It's most fun!" he would write (at least I think that's how he put it - my copy of Letters to Children is elsewhere). And it is, for many of us. Give it a try. After all, part of the great fun of the Internet is we all get to write on here for free. If you find your posts are angry, though, be careful. Shouting "you fool" is a dangerous indulgence.

Thoughts on True Belief

I'm taking "The Response," the much-publicized prayer and fasting rally starring Texas Governor Rick Perry, with a grain of salt. I've grown up in American and Evangelical culture, and both strands are prone to hyperbole. The website reminds us that we are in a "historic" moment that demands a "historic" response and that this "historic" prayer rally will start a "historic" movement towards... what? Prosperity? A more Christian nation? More Christians in the nation? A revival of sorts? Did this "historic" rally go above and beyond all the other "historic" rallies? I've sat in various stadiums and hotel ball rooms to be told how America was on a crossroads so many times that it doesn't really stick anymore.

This is not to downplay the problems in the U.S. or anywhere else. Debt, division and war are serious and sobering things. Prayer and repentance are appropriate responses. But I fear (and I hope my fear is wrong) that much of the hyperbole is to blaze a path for a great man (to rephrase the website), so that Governor Perry or someone like him will be a new Evangelical David, casting stones at Philistines with different political opinions, a legion of praying voters behind him.

These thoughts on The Response were first provoked by Frank Bruni's recent NYTimes column entitled "True Believers, All of Us." After commenting on the media response to, well, The Response, he begins to critique faith in ideologies all together, left and right, religious and political, corporate and private. Aren't we all like those silly Evangelicals in Texas, holding on to our little beliefs and refusing to face reality when challenged? Why do people hold such beliefs? Of course! They want easy answers in tough times. Bruni writes:

"Clarity seduces. So does simplicity. We don’t want to hear that different skills produce different results in different contexts, but rather that there are “7 Habits of Highly Effective People,” the number specific, finite. We like to believe that triathlon training will trump genes and keep all major illness and minor sagging at bay, and that the metabolic alchemy of a cabbage-soup diet or a no-carb diet or some other diet will work wonders and obviate humdrum moderation. Magical thinking, all of it."

As for America's troubles, Bruni has a response of his own.

"And right now, with the stock market floundering and our credit rating downgraded and millions of Americans stranded in unemployment and Washington frozen in confusion, the temptation to look for one summary prescriptive — for certainty, even miracles — is strong. We’d be wise to resist it. To get us out of this mess, we need a full range of extant remedies, a tireless search for new ones and the nimbleness and open-mindedness to evaluate progress dispassionately and adapt our strategy accordingly. Faith and prayer just won’t cut it. In fact, they’ll get in the way."

I share his skepticism of clarity and simplicity, five points to happiness, diets that claim you won't feel hungry or pre-canned political solutions. But like it or not, some form of ideology will always drive politics. If Bruni wishes to separate politicians from the ideologies of those who elected them, then he doesn't have a prayer.

More to the point, his criticism of ideology is guilty of the same simplicity admonishes us to avoid. Ideas often come from people with worldviews, and we have a lot of those. If he wants to see a "full extant of remedies" for our economic woes, then he can peruse the websites of various think tanks, newspapers and faculty papers. Few solutions would be faith-free, and I would be suspicious of anyone who claimed no bias. They come from people with different views about government, commerce, responsibility, economy and morality. Most of them are be well-reasoned, logical and accompanied by graphs. All the data, of course, must be interpreted, and here is where humans cease to be computers. We start debating how many angels can dance on the head of a deficit. After all, we don't have labs to test every economic idea in academia and advocacy (and, for good reason, we don't give our government the dictatorial power to do such things). We have data, ideas and history, all of which are opened to interpretation based on what we believe. True believers, all of us.

Rather than encouraging the impossible task of jettisoning belief for the ideal of rational social science, let's encourage our politicians to take Bruni's Times colleague Ross Douthat's advice. No American political party has the majority or the capital for a sweeping ideological victory, Douthat argues. They should not give up on their beliefs nor cease to hope about the future, but while America (and those who represent us) remains divided, they need to remember their responsibility to govern effectively.

Bruni is correct that we long for simple solutions and quick clarity. It sells well, and people in business, politics and religion have all taken advantage of it. But true belief is grittier. Among the reasons I remain a Christian is that Christianity refuses to be the bag of goods some folks sell it as (see the prosperity gospel, for a worrying example of this). Christianity never promises ease, health or worldly political conquest. The Biblical picture of Christianity is one of relationship: often parent to child, husband to wife, even friendship. The best of these relationships, from whatever perspective you experience them, are not a series of simple solutions easily replicated on PowerPoint. But they make life deeper, richer and more hopeful. When these relationships are perverted, we taste hell. Christian faith is a difficult, refining, fiery, trying, dynamic, wonderful, loving relationship with God through Jesus Christ, reconciled by His blood and sealed with His Spirit. It's complexer than the finest of wines, and it's worth drinking deep.

This leads us to prayer. Prayer is not a vending machine button to a better life or a better America. It's a the communication essential for the relationship to function. (For further reading on prayer, I highly recommend A Praying Life by Paul Miller, which I wrote about here). A life of genuine faith and prayer does not "get in the way." More often, it allows us to see clearly and humbly face our problems.

This leads me back to The Response. Again, I'm underwhelmed by hyperbola and weary of any political use of Christianity. But if 30,000 of my brother and sisters genuinely practiced repentance and prayed for their country, then a good thing happened underneath it all. If The Response enriched their relationship with God and sent them back into their communities in humble faith and prayer, then may they be examples and proclaimers of true belief.

Kicking It With the Bundesliga

After waiting at least a month and a half, German soccer is back! That's right, as I write this, defending champions Dortmund are trying to score goals against Hamburg in the opening game of the Bundesliga season (updated - Dortmund dominated 3:1). Now, you might be thinking, why should I care about the Bundesliga? Your thoughts could run something along the line of "wait, aren't the sexiest soccer teams and most tabloid-ready stars in England and Spain?" Or you might be thinking, "aren't I an American, programmed to think that any sport without hitting, either people hitting each other or people hitting a ball with a blunt object, is uncivilized?"

Well, let me make a few points in favor of the Bundesliga before giving you a whistle-stop tour of the league. I've already argued in favor of soccer in general, so let me say that I like hard, clean hits that don't lead from the helmet as much as the next guy, but there's a reason the rest of the world likes soccer. As for the Bundesliga itself, yes, it does lack the star power of the English and Spanish leagues (and Italian, depending on the year), but I would argue (admitting my strong German bias) that it's the most interesting major soccer league. First, there have been four different champions in the past five years. In England, Spain and Italy, you really only have two to choose from. Yes, Bayern Munich is a perennial frontrunner, but what exciting league doesn't have that? Besides, I get the impression that in England in particular, folks (or at least the media) are more interested in the running soap opera of the business of soccer than the game itself. Oh, and one more thing. As ESPN's Uli Hesse (the best Bundesliga commentary in English and one of my favorite sports columnist all around) explains at the end of every season, the Bundesliga teams score more goals per game than any other important league.

Ok, so now that you're convinced, here are some teams to keep an eye on (Fair warning, I will be mixing sports analogies and metaphors to help an American reader understand the league):

1. Borussia Dortmund: The defending champs are one of the most sympathetic and beloved teams in Germany. The teams from the "Ruhrgebiet," mining and industry cities in northwest Germany, are where many of the traditional soccer teams and "real" fans reside, and Dortmund is their flagship. The Ruhrgebiet is what the Great Lakes region is to the NFL, and Dortmund, wearing black and gold, traditional success and national sympathy are Germany's Pittsburgh Steelers. They have two flaws. Last year, they were terrible at penalty kicks, which could come back to bite them in international competition (the top three, this year, four, teams go to the Champions League and compete against other European teams), and their poc-a-dot uniforms were clearly the results of a Middle School art project.
   
2. Schalke 04: Schalke, another great Ruhrgebiet team from the city of Gelsenkirchen, is Dortmund's arch rival. Their cities are so close together, and the rivalry is one of the best in the world's (think Army-Navy, Chicago-Green Bay, Giants-Dodgers before California). Unlike their enemy, Schalke has never managed to win a Bundesliga title. Their biggest success was winning the UEFA cup a long time ago, which is like saying your college won the NIT in the 90s. This run of almost-success makes them the pre-1994 Boston Red Sox of the Bundesliga. They had a rough time of it last year, but did win the German cup and were decent in the Champions league before getting knocked around by Manchester United. At the end of the season, after despondently watching Dortmund hoist the Bundesliga trophy (which would make a great tray to serve deviled eggs), they lost their world-class and German #1 goalkeeper Manuel Neuer to the following team.
3. FC Bayern Munich. Bayern buys superstar soccer players, hogs media attention, considers 2nd place a bad season and has won more Bundesliga titles than any other team. In this, they embody the collective spirit of the Yankees, Cowboys, Lakers and Fighting Irish. So many Germans hate them, yet walk around a random German town on any given day and you'll see about a dozen Bayern jerseys. After their disastrous 3rd place finish last year (the year before, they won the Bundesliga, the German cup, and lost to Inter Milan in the Champions League final) they bought a new coach and several new superstars to even out their already eye-popping line up. If you watched the World Cup, where the Germans ran circles around every non-Spanish team they faced (ok, they fell asleep against Serbia, but that didn't matter in the end), than you've seen most of what Bayern has to offer, including the wonderfully named Bastian Schweinsteiger and the young starlet Thomas Mueller. Their foreign star-power is great as well - in the rare occasion that both stars are healthy, the Frenchman Frank Ribery and the Dutchman Arjen Robben (the World Cup's worst flopper, but a spectacular footballer nonetheless) make perhaps the most dangerous winger combination in the world.
   
4. VFL Wolfsburg: I gave the English a hard time for their soap opera approach to soccer, but Wolfsburg coach Felix Magath is Germany's guilty pleasure. Whether getting fired, getting rehired, winning championships or fighting with players, the former Bayern and Schalke coach turns heads like car accident. The sports how I watched last night gave un-fancied Wolfsburg much more attention than it deserved simply because everyone wants to see what Magath will do next.
   
5. Hamburger SV: Hamburg is one of the oldest, traditional and beloved soccer teams in Germany. So much so, that some post-Christian, sports-crazy fans took the next logical step: they built a cemetery for soccer fans. They were mediocre last season and are currently getting thumped by Dortmund, so their fans might want to consider dying during a season when they can afford some better players (and reconsidering their priorities in general).
   
6. Hannover 96: Hannover is rarely a good team, but they were last season's big surprise with a 4th place finish. Also, American fans should pay attention, because they are captained by Steve Cherundolo, who, evidently, is the only American outside defender capable of taking on a Mexican striker (prove me wrong, Klinsi).
7. Baden vs. Wuerttemberg: Ok, I'm in a bit of a bind as to who I should root for. You see, soccer is angry regionalism in Germany, and the big rivalries are often between different tribes of Germany. I was introduced to the Bundesliga in Freiburg, Germany's answer to Portland, in the solar-powered stadium of this rarely-good but scrappy and appealing team. Freiburg is in the region called Baden, where the ancient Badische tribe of Germans live. However, I married a Swabian, and currently live in the area of VfB Stuttgart - a traditional club who won the Bundesliga several years ago. The Swabians are the Badens' arch-rival tribe, and Freiburg and Stuttgart are rival teams. So, Freiburg is my first love, but I'm surrounded by VfB fever, and hope to get to a game or two this season. I'd like to root for both, but that's like rooting for both Florida State and that team Tim Tebow used to play for (name escapes me...). Thoughts? I can't serve two masters, but can I root for two rival Bundesliga teams?
   

Bowmore Islay Single Malt Scotch Whisky “Surf”

The Swiss side of the border. Boasting some of the Alps highest mountains, and presumably some of the best skiing, it also has entire villages that act as airport gift shops. It’d duty free shopping, between Swiss hotels and bubbling mountain streams, you can buy kitschy or profane T-shirts, liquor, jewelry and perfume without being hassled by the taxman. Other than gasoline, which was a good 30 cents per Liter cheaper than what we get in Deutschland, the prices weren’t so outrageously good that we were tempted to max out our credit cards (though other tourists, it seemed, did not share our opinion), but I did take advantage of the to buy some single malt whisky and a small cigar from a certain island country that my home country doesn’t get along with.

Yesterday, the afternoon rains had temporarily cleansed the land of the goopy yellow pollen that had been devouring my body from within. A clear evening beckoned. I took the cigar, the scotch and a my bag of books to the Ferienwohnung’s backyard. Therein, among the impeccable grass and beautiful flowers stands a wonderful building. It’s a combination shed (filled with the necessary equipment for backyard games like badminton) and a kitchen. A lovely stone porch nestles two sides of the building, and I sat down on the side that faced the mountains.

The cigar was mild and modest, a small Romeo and Julia, but delicious nonetheless. The whisky fit perfectly. I developed a taste for Scotch when we lived in a Scottish-American household, but I’m still a novice. My decision at the store was based on no research whatsoever, but was more of that special combination of price and marketing, which influences most of my purchasing decisions. I went with a Bowmore Islay Single Malt Scotch Whisky called “Surf.” Surf is the cheapest Bowmore whisky available on the Austrian-Swiss border. Surf offers your palate “warm smoke, oak and honey, balanced with a hint of zesty lime.” Maybe it was the cigar, but I missed the zest lime, but the rest was true. The smoke flavor was strong and came tantalizingly close to the border of overwhelming, but that’s what made it interesting and, let me say, delicious. It also made it go well with the cigar. With smoke in my mouth, I looked to the mountains. The sun weakened, the Alsp turned purple, to the peace and praise of our Creator. Be thankful for his bounty: evening, mountains, cigars and scotch.

Is the Hundertwasser House Germany's Answer to Dr. Seuss?

The most beautiful building in the small city of Plochingen is St. Ulrich's, the Protestant church that presides over the Neckar River with the majesty of an aging monarch overlooking his court. The second most beautiful building is St. Konrad's, Plochingen's handsome Catholic church that lies just down Hindenburgstrasse from my in-law's house. But if you visit Plochingen's official website, the first image you see is a fuzzy-edged picture of the city's own Hundertwasser House.

In the early 90s, the famous Austrian architect and artist Friendensreich Hundertwasser (his name means "Reign of Peace Hundred Waters," though he was never a basketball player) agreed to design a masterwork for this sleepy Swabian town. The house, which is a high-walled courtyard containing apartments and cafes and an enormous "Rain Tower" which may or may not collect rain, stands proudly in the middle of downtown.

The purpose of this courtyard is to convey Hundertwasser's distinct characteristics: "happy colorfulness, round forms and playful balconies." Also, Hundertwasser planted a live trees in the balconies and roofs. These "tree renters" serve as an important testament that not only people, but trees live in apartments.

The other night, my sister and I made an investigative visit to the court yard to, just like a certain bear who went over a certain mountain, see what we could see. It is playful and colorful, without a doubt. The visit confirmed my suspicion that Hundertwasser, much more than an esteemed architect, is the German speaking world's answer to American children's book author Dr. Seuss. To my eyes, the best way to describe the Hundertwasser House, with it's playfully scattered windows, generous reds and sparkly blues, randomly drooping colorful drops (evidently to make it look natural), wonderfully loopy corners and curves, can best be described as Seussville. In fact, now that I regularly read Dr. Seuss's ABC book with my daughter, I was surprised to leave the courtyard without seeing a Fiffer Feffer Feff (with his four fluffy feathers) or the Zizzer Zazzer Zuzz. It would be the perfect place for Thing 1 and Thing 2 to chase the Cat in the Hat in father's ten dollar shoes. They did not serve green eggs and ham, but this didn't surprise me as it would have clashed with the color-scheme (Red Fish and Blue Fish, however, would fit right in). I should also say that I don't know anyone who lives in the apartments, so I can't report whether or not they would object to being called "Whos."

Anyway, I can only approach the Hundertwasser House with the fun and humor, but as the Germans say, nothing for ungood. It's clever, quirky, but very unique. And it makes sense that it is featured on the website; every town in Germany has at least one beautiful church, but who has an avaunt garde apartment complex that will turn heads (for better or for worse) of all the people who commute into Stuttgart? The rain tower sticks out of Plochingen's houses like a balloon salesman sticks out of a crowd of children. The Grinch leans out of it to hear if we are still singing.

Klinsmann and Bradley

The U.S Men's National Team got their (Ger)man. Juergen Klinsmann, Germany's successful player who led Germany to the 1990 World Cup and 1996 European title, and who, as a coach, led an un-fancied German side to a 3rd-place finish in 2006. The Summer of 2006 is fondly remembered here as a "summer fairy tale," and Klinsmann quit while he was ahead. Given he lives in California and understands American soccer, the U.S. has had him in his sites ever since.

The value of Klinsmann is obvious. He already has one successful World Cup run with much higher stakes (his own soccer-mad country on his home soil), and his prefers fun, attacking-style soccer. Success + Fun, throw in a little celebrity, and you get a great hire!

However, living in Germany, the land of skepticism, has taught me to view every situation with a critical eye (even if it is undeserving). Is Klinsmann the best man for the job? He's an exciting personality and was an excellent player. But many here think the brain behind the 2006 run was current German national coach Jogi Loew, who was Klinsmann's assistant before his promotion and has kept Germany's run of (alas, title-less) success going ever since. Meanwhile, Klinsmann's last coaching gig at Bayern Munich lasted just over half of the 2008-09 season. During his tenure, he brought in Buddha statues and wellness activities into the Munich training facilities without rallying Bayern's superstars to their expected success. After taking a drubbing from Barcelona to crash out of the Champions League competition, Bayern sent Klinsmann his marching orders and hired a replacement to pick up the pieces.

So, can Klinsmann coach the U.S. to success (at least a World Cup quarterfinal) without Loew? Also, it seems like the U.S. has a similar personnel to what Bayern had in the Klinsmann era. They just don't have the defensive horses to play attacking style soccer. Hey could be the spark we need for to go to the next level (World Cup semi-finals), but for these reasons, my enthusiasm is tempered.

I'm now going to do something that will probably expose me as "not a real fan" or a soccer doofus. I'm going to offer a defense of Bob Bradley. Sam's Army and the most rabid of U.S. soccer fans are howling with glee after Bob Bradley's sacking. They've wanted his hairless head ever since he had the temerity to start his son (never mind that Michael Bradley has been one of the consistent and reliable players over the last few years) or that, though he coached the team to an iconic win over Spain in the confederations cup, they blew a 2:0 lead to Brazil in the final (just the five-time World Champion/definition of a soccer country Brazil). Or maybe it was, after dramatically winning their group, the U.S. lost to Ghana in the round of 16 (never mind that Ghana was an excellent team playing a home game who literally got robbed of a spot in the semifinal). Or maybe it was that the U.S. got plastered by Mexico in the Gold Cup a few weeks ago (never mind that, after blowing it against Panama in the opening round, Bradley made all the right moves to get to the final, and that Mexico could be called the most-improved national team of the year).

Bradley's time may have been up, but I've always liked him, and I'm sad to see him go. He worked hard and held his head up, always knowing he was never the U.S. soccer federation's first choice. No, he did not reach the quarterfinal, and yes, Mexico is now #1 in North America (though I suspect this has more to do with the rise of some Manchester United quality strikers at El Tri and America's defensive deterioration than coaching competency on either side), and under his leadership, the U.S. boxed above his weight so much that I wonder if he buckled under the expectation he helped create. Maybe it didn't help him that, as ESPN Leandar Schaerlackens points out, he never went out of his way to charm the media or the public, but that's one of the reasons I liked him. I find it refreshing when someone, especially a public someone, doesn't feel the need to be a salesman.

But, whatever your opinion of the Bob Bradley, Klinsmann is the now the man, and I hope my skepticism is wrong, unfounded and just a result of living just East of the Rhine. I can only wish Coach Klinsmann well, and that he brings our boys to the next level of the beautiful game.

Theology, Sensibility and Meeting John Stott

My one visit to London (so far) was to tag along with my father on a conference for the evangelistic organization now known as Cru (though it was and still is called Agape in the UK). Dad worked for Agape/Cru, but he was also studying for the pastorate at Reformed Theological Seminary in Orlando, Florida. Thus, he was excited to take his oily 16-year-old son and his cute 12-year-old daughter to a church called All Souls, where their pastor emeritus, John Stott, was scheduled to preach.

I found the music a bit stodgy and the building beautiful, but it was the white-haired pastor-theologian successfully captured the attention of my teenage self. I confess, I am fuzzy on the details, points and applications, but his sermon showed me something: the possibility of confronting a miraculous, challenging and all around chewy corner of scripture and remaining human, sensible and pastoral, intelligently and graciously leading the listeners back to God. This was the point all along. He preached on the mysterious prophecies in the book of Daniel, a book that I had rarely heard covered, save the felt sunday school story boards about the Lion's Den. I had also been to excitable conferences on biblical prophecy that seemed to lead more to culture war than to knowing and loving God (my youth pastor at the time offered some helpful correctives). He had the gift to combine wit and grace, and in that he parsed other interpretations, offered his own and pointed to the hope of the Gospel.

I now own a couple of John Stott's commentaries and have used others to for personal and communal Bible study. He is, in many respects, a reliable theologian of first resort whenever I need a better understanding of any part of scripture. But his gracious and reasonable presence that Sunday in London impacted me more. This attitude has been particularly helpful when faced with difficult questions from non-Christians; when I'm at my best, I imitate it (not always the case, sadly).

John Stott died today. His hope his seen, his faith is realized and, with Christ Jesus in paradise, his love is complete. His impact on the church can't be understated, nor his impact on the clergy who follow in his footsteps (see this moving post from one of the pastors at my old church in Washington), my father included. That day, he rallied us to have a picture taken with wise pastor, who graciously conceded. The picture is one of Dad's treasures. He often reminds me that there's a picture of me with John Stott. I consider it an act of God's grace that I met him and heard him that day.