REIGN OR RULE
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CHRIST THE KING: REIGN OR RULE?
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"The Queen of England reigns but does not rule." I remember the first time I heard that. I struggled for an hour trying to figure out the pun on "rain." "The Queen of England rains but does not rule." And, after discovering that the sentence was about power, not precipitation, I was more baffled still.
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It means, as near as I can figure, that the queen presides at state occasions — like a modem Pearl Mesta, hostess with the mostest. The queen stands ceremonially for the nation, but not for the government. She's a figurehead on the ship of state, which is driven by the engines of Parliament and guided by the prime minister. She's a delight to palace watchers and a livelihood to paparazzi. But when it comes to power to change the course of history, she does not rule.
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It's tempting to say, "Christ reigns but does not rule." Then the old hymn, "Jesus Shall Reign," proclaims Christ's ceremonial function at human occasions. Christ can be coaxed to appear for weddings and births. But when it comes to power, the engines which drive the world are below deck, and the captains stand in the control room. And Christ's sweet face, the head crowned with thorns, adorns the bow of the ship.
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Lately I've had a change of heart. Christ rules. Who reigns? In the church, the pope and elders and ministers serve as figureheads. In the world, the important people — Margaret Thatcher and Donald Trump, Zsa Zsa Gabor and network anchorpeople, Ronald Reagan and Imelda Marcos—just reign. They're ceremonial hosts and hostesses, whether they know it or not, for the One who rules.
"Christ the King" is the name given the last Sunday in the Christian year. If I had my way, I'd call it "Christ the Shah," "Christ the Shepherd," "Christ the Prime Minister and Party Chief." Even the Pharisees, read the so-called rulers of their day, said, "You see that you can do nothing; look, the world has gone after him" (John 12:19). Jesus rules.
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People who serve a reigning monarch are advance people and public relations types, schmoozers and promoters. We who serve a ruling monarch broker the power, extend the empire and obey.
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WILLIAM R. LEETY, Pastor, Covenant church, Scranton, Pa.
Christ the King Sunday, Nov. 26, 1989, in the Presbyterian Outlook, 11/20/1989
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RELIGIOUS RIGHT - HUMANIST
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Confessions of a Hillbilly Humanist
By DANIEL W. MASSIE
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How strange, I thought to myself, as I sat before the crowd gathered to hear the planned debate on “Christianity and Secular Humanism,” that I should be cast in the role of the defender of the secular humanists.
Mississippi-born, educated at conservative Belhaven College with a major in Bible, card-carrying evangelical, I must have seemed a curious choice as spokes- person for the camp commonly viewed as the “cultured-despisers of religion.” But
here in the hills of upper east Tennessee,where Vickie Frost and the fundamentalists are forever present in the media, in
the courthouse down the road in Greeneville, where the infamous “Scopes II” trial took place last summer, and in picket lines outside the convenience stores selling objectionable magazines, true “liberals” are hard to come by, I suppose, and you have to take what you can get.
I had no one to blame but myself, of course, for I had written a guest commentary in the local newspaper expressing an opposing point of view from that in another commentary written by a local clergyman in the Presbyterian Church of America who was now my worthy opponent in this debate and was seated at the opposite end of the table.
The original commentary to which I had objected bemoaned the increased secularization of American life, identified “Humanism” as the culprit responsible and called for a return to the Judeo-Christian values that shaped the founding of American culture. The writer sought to draw contemporary battle lines — not between religion and non-religion, but
between the false religion of humanism and the true religion of Christianity.
Inasmuch as I share some of my opponent’s concerns over the increased secularization of American life, why is it that I find the response of the “religious right” to the current cultural dilemma so disturbing? I would briefly summarize my objections under three headings:
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CAUSES. The changes that have come about in Western culture simply could not have occurred without the passive, if not
active, consent of the traditional religious community. Thus, to lay the blame for this at the feet of the humanists only continues the sad story of the church’s need for a convenient scapegoat whenever we cannot face up to the enemy within ourselves. I am reminded of Curt Sytsma’s satiric poem, “A Humanist Manifesto”:
In every age, the bigot's rage
Requires another focus,
Another devil forced on stage
By hatred's hocus-pocus:
The devil used to be the Jew
And then it was the witches;
And then it was the Negroes who
Were digging in the ditches.
The devil once was colored pink
And labeled communistic;
Now, all at once, in just a blink,
The devil's humanistic.
DEFINITIONS. I confess I find particularly objectionable the way the religious right continues to define narrowly, to categorize judgmentally and to simplify matters. For example, all humanists are quickly placed in the same camp and assumed to be of one mind on issues. While I certainly do not consider myself a ' “secular” humanist, I do embrace much of the proud tradition of classical humanism and would describe myself as a Christian humanist without apology or reservation. It matters not for many in the religious right, however. A humanist by any other name remains a humanist.
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Along with “humanist,” the terms “Christian” and “Judeo-Christian” are also used with very restricted, if not distorted, meanings.
Tim LaHaye, one of the acknowledged gurus of the religious right, gives to his fellow conservative Christians a checklist which, when applied, will be a litmus test indicating whether a potential candidate for public office is really pro-moral, thus deserving the support of the Christian community. Sadly, the list primarily concerns issues of personal morality—pornography, abortion, homosexuality, etc., and all but ignores corporate sins of racism, militarism, indifference to hunger and the like.
“Judeo-Christian values” are more complex than the religious right would have us believe, when we stop to recall that Jerry Falwell, Jesse Jackson and Pope John Paul II would each claim to represent them. More and more I have come to see that
when the religious right says Judeo-Christian, they really mean Christian; when they say Christian, they really mean Protestant; and when they say Protestant, they really mean fundamentalist! The truth is that genuine Christians who recognize biblical authority and who claim the Lordship of Jesus Christ frequently come out on the opposite sides of societal issues, no matter how much our conservative brothers and sisters might wish otherwise.
SOLUTIONS. Finally, I confess to being uneasy with and unsupportive of the proposed political solutions to America’s cultural malaise offered by the religious right in their political agenda. Frankly, it is frightening, especially in a country where religious nationalism has often been an idolatrous threat. Yet, Tim LaHaye issues a call to arms by the conservative militia, admonishing them to get behind “Christian” candidates (see the checklist if you have any doubts) and back the conservative cause, which
LaHaye says is embodied in the agenda of Ronald Reagan.
Do you know what the religious right ultimately want? They want us to reaffirm America as a religious, i.e., Christian, nation rather than a secular nation. Now that’s particularly frightening for this hillbilly humanist who suspects he knows which brand of religion they would like to see in charge. Most of us have either read of or have experienced the political and cultural consequences when religious factions are in power and are convinced they are executing the will and wrath of God.
God forbid! Why, I wouldn’t even trust my fellow Presbyterians to run the country, much less the fundamentalists! Give me the checks and balances that have worked rather well for better than' 200 years in this republic. Give me a society where there is a true religious pluralism that seeks not to favor any one religious or overtly non-religious point of view, where all of us are free to believe and worship at will, where mutual respect and restrained tolerance are in vogue, where we all enter the market-place of ideas and allegiances on equal footing, free both to present and to further pursue the Truth that is greater than all of us!
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DANIEL W. MASSIE, an OUTLOOK editor-at-large, is pastor of First Church, in Kingsport, Tenn.
Page 6 THE PRESBYTERIAN OUTLOOK March 9, 1987
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RESURRECTION - RISEN
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CHRIST IS RISEN! HE IS RISEN INDEED!
by Howard W. Stone
Read: 1 Corinthians 15:3-11
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It was following an early Easter service. I was in the narthex greeting people. A little dark-haired girl, full of joy, looked up at me and said, “Christos anesti! ” A member of a Greek Orthodox family, she was saying: “Christ is risen!” The answer: “Alithinos anesti!” This, of course, is what Easter is all about. Not Easter parades and egg hunts. Not butterflies and crocuses and bunnies and new bonnets. Resurrection! The resurrection of Jesus Christ!
Read the accounts in the latter part of each of the four Gospels. There is a growing crescendo! Those who loved our Lord best knew that he had risen! At first, there was incredulity, then a growing certainty and wonder. The witnesses fairly burst with excitement over the good news. Frightened disciples became bold witnesses ready to live and die for their faith. Because of the resurrection, we have the “march of the eleven” through history and the Church of the living Christ.
Years ago, there was a great meeting in Russia on Easter Day. A commissar defied anyone to speak a word for the Christian faith. A tall, gaunt Russian in homespun arose and slowly made his way to the platform. A hush came over the vast assembly. He stood for a moment looking at the people. Then he spoke three words: “He is risen!” The response was like thunder: “He is risen indeed!”
Jesus Christ is risen today, Alleluia!
Our triumphant holy day, Alleluia!
Howard W. Stone
Howard Stone, on the staff of Second Presbyterian Church, Indianapolis, Ind.
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REVERENDS
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NO REVERENDS, PLEASE
By PAUL A. CORCORAN
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Would you like to be smarter than your television set? Be ahead of your newspaper? Be right about something most people get wrong? To climb this peak and look down on the uninformed world, all you do is learn the proper use of “Reverend.”
I DISCOVERED THIS SECRET when Jesse Jackson became a candidate for the Democratic presidential nomination and the news media found themselves having to take a clergyman more seriously than they are accustomed to doing. From the
start they didn’t know what to call him, except “Reverend.” So, they began to “Reverend” him all over the place. It was “Reverend Jackson” this, and “Reverend Jackson” that, and “Reverend Jackson spoke today to the Future Beekeepers of America.”
These weren’t amateurs doing this. I’m talking Phil Donahue. I’m talking the Today Show. I’m talking network anchors who make 10 times your salary just for reading the news. Dictionaries don’t seem to be one of their tools of the trade. “It shall not be so among you,” to quote the Bible. “You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”
THAT LIBERATING TRUTH is that “Reverend” is not a title, it’s not even a noun. Webster’s Seventh New Collegiate says that it is an honorific, which is a kind of gratuitous adjective applied to a person because of the office that person holds. For instance, “Honorable” is the honorific for a judge or congressman. “Venerable” is the honorific for leaders in some of the older churches. And “Reverend” is the honorific for a clergyman.
So, if you see Jesse Jackson coming down the street, you don’t say to him, “Hello there, Reverend,” unless you are also willing to say to your congressman, “Hello there, Honorable.” If you interviewed him, you wouldn’t address him as “Reverend Jackson,” unless you would also address Judge Doe as “Honorable Doe.” What’s right for one honorific is just as right for another, as
Funk once said to Wagnall.
THE RULE IS that an honorific is always preceded by “the” and always used with the person’s full name. It’s always “the Reverend Jesse Jackson,” or at least “The Rev. Mr. Jackson.” Otherwise, just “Mr. Jackson” is fine, or even just “Jesse,” if you know him well enough; in which case, could you please get me his autograph? Get Judge Doe’s, too, if you can. Who knows when it might come in handy? But please, never “Reverend Jackson.” That’s worse than calling him a Republican.
Being the Christians we are, what should matter most is what the Lord calls us. Clergy people and lay people alike, he calls us all sinners. From our point of view that may not be a very terrific honorific, but it is also not a very specific honorific. I mean, when a preacher says that we are all sinners, he means everyone in the congregation, but never anyone in particular.
When all is said and done (which could be any day now, what with all the megatonnage of nuclear bombs aimed and ready), honorifics, titles, ranks, degrees, and anything else attached to our names won’t mean much. The only thing that will matter is whether they have your name spelled right on that roll that’s called up yonder.
It’s C-O-R-C-O-R-A-N, Lord. You have that? The Reverend Paul A.
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EDITOR'S NOTE: Outlook goes Corcoran one better and never (well, hardly ever) uses “Rev. "in any shape or form in
its columns. We have continued Aubrey Brown's longstanding crusade against it. We have a pamphlet on the subject, “Don’t Say ‘Reverend Smithson’,” which explains in some detail the right and wrong uses of the term. We'll send it to you, four copies for $1.
Presbyterian Outlook, pg.2, 9/10/84
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RITUAL, SYMBOLS, NIGHTLY NEWS
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TELEVISED NEWS CALLED A RITUAL
By EILEEN C. SPRAKER, Staff reporter
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When the president strolls down the red carpet and takes his place behind the lectern with its presidential seal, it’s almost like a religious service.
The presidential press conference is a rite, says a professor who has studied rituals that glue together our common life. Nightly news programs also have a lot of ritual in them, says Gregor Goethals, who teaches at the Rhode Island School of Design.
“In this technological, secular society we find in television our deepest rituals, rituals that tell us who we are, where we came from and where we’re going,” he says. He cites nightly news programs and presidential press conferences as examples of TV
staples that use evangelical, ritualistic traditions.
Goethels is author of “The TV Ritual: Worship at the Video Altar," a study of ritualism in television and its relationship to religious
rites in America. Presidential press conferences take place in a very special place and time," Goethals said. There’s a very particular setting: the White House. There is also a rhythm and flow to this ritualized event. It usually opens with a homily," and then the homily, like a talk-back sermon, "is followed by a question-and-answer period.
“But I think it performs a much more ritualistic function, which is to confirm our sense of trust and worth.” Goethals notes the President walks down a long, red-carpeted hallway to stand before a podium flanked with flags — a setting reminiscent of a church pulpit “All of these things cannot simply be by accident. Particularly in commercials and news, you just do not see things by accident. And even though images fly by in a split second, every inch of your television is an important source of symbolic
information.”
The nightly news, like the presidential press conference, has an implicit function of invoking trust and loyalty, Goethals said.
“The public, just by the nature of news, is presented with a series of symbolic reports. We respond not to the concrete event but to those reported symbolic events.”
Evangelical reliance is on a charismatic individual — on the news, it’s the anchor man. “The reason the networks spend
millions for these very important persons is because they need to embody a sense of confidence and trust,” Goethals said.
“We have so many of those symbolic reports to deal with, that we tend to depend on this authority figure to tell us what is important.”
Goethals’ ideas on television and public piety were published recently in Media and Values, an interfaith media magazine
published by the Media Action Research Center in cooperation with 15 Catholic, Protestant and Jewish groups in the Los Angeles area. The News Journal, Wilmington, Del., Saturday, May 4, 1985
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ROCKY SKIT (funny)
by Jeff Hatch, 1978 (used on a youth group retreat)
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(Both Rocky and the Announcer are on stage. Announcer must stand very still, stage right as camera will begin on your crest on jacket. Rocky will be stage left, and will be far enough from announcer so as to be off-camera when camera operator zooms out for 2nd shot of the announcer alone.)
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Announcer: (on cue) Ladies and gentlemen, this coming Monday night on
ABC's Wild World of Sports we will be going to the
ring of Madison Square Garden, to present for your viewing
pleasure a heavyweight fight between Larry Holmes and
Rocky Canvasback. (Pause for camera to zoom out - Rocky steps
up beside Announcer, bobbing and weaving like a boxer). Prior to the
fight we are fortunate to have an on-the-spot interview with
the one and only Rocky. Rocky, how do you like being on
national television?
Rocky: (In Rocky-type manner, kinda dull voice) Hi Mom, hiya Dad! (laugh)
Announcer: What's so funny?
Rocky: I'm an orphan.
Announcer: I see, well, I understand after Monday's big fight you have an outdoor bout in Montreal next March. Won't you be cold?
Rocky: Nah... I wear gloves.
Announcer: Tell us, Rock (turn sideways to interview - this will help audience
follow the camera panning onto Rocky alone), how did you get started
in the fight business?
Rocky: When I was a kid I was real tough. Could lick any kid on the block,
except the Jones's. (Pause) They were boys.
Announcer: How many fights have you had?
Rocky: 101. Won them all... except the first 100. Got a winning streak going now.
Announcer: (facing back to the camera) I know that professional fighting
can be a dangerous sport. What would you say was your worst injury?
Rocky: Broke my hand once.
Announcer: Hitting an opponent, I suppose?
Rocky: No - the referee stepped on it.
Announcer: Tell us Rocky, did you ever fight any of the other world champs?
Rocky: Yeah, Muhammed Ali in the Olympic Arena. Had him really scared in the
1st round.
Announcer: Really scared, huh? How come?
Rocky: He thought he had killed me.
Announcer: When you get knocked out like that, I suppose they carry you out on a
on a stretcher, don't they?
Rocky: No, I wear handles on my trunks. (Step to the right)
Announcer: Well, thank you Rocky! We'll let you get back to your training.
(Camera operator will zoom in on you alone) This has been a live on-the-spot
interview with Monday Night World Championship Fight challenger Rocky
Canvasback. Now back to you, Keith, and our further coverage of the
roller derby finals. (Camera will pan off to the right into oblivion. Music up.)
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RULES
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NOT RULES, BUT A WAY OF LIFE
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We can go to the Old Testament and find in it a well-developed system of marriage, of parenthood, and of family life that has been fashioned by a people dedicated to the service of God. That system has worked well for them, and we can study and learn from it. Like all the rest of their religious beliefs, it has found expression in a massive and complex accumulation of laws and commandments. The New Testament is quite different. We cannot go to it and find a complete set of rules. It is concerned with a way of living that would, as Christians believe, if put into practice universally, fulfill God’s will for the world he made and for the people he placed in it. But it is not a detailed set of rules and regulations to which we can turn for instructions about how to manage a given human situation two thousand years later.
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This means that it doesn’t give us directions about how to manage our marriages in today’s world. What it does is to give us the basic values from which we must work out for ourselves, with the guidance of the eternal Spirit, how to bring any and every aspect of our lives into conformity with the way to which Jesus called us, in his teaching and living, to relate to God and to one another. What the New Testament provides us is the broad picture — we must work out all the practical details for ourselves.
—DAVID AND VERA MACE in THE SACRED FIRE: Christian Marriage Through the Ages. (pp. 52-53).
The Presbyterian Outlook, VOLUME 169, MARCH 30, 1987
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RUSSIA
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A Taste of Russia
by Peter Crouch
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In August of 1985 I traveled to the Soviet Union as part of the Presbyterian Global Youth Ministries Peacemaking Seminar. During those three weeks, I had several unexpected opportunities to talk with Soviet citizens and to catch a glimpse of Soviet life. One evening in Kiev, Spencer Edmunds, Jennifer Russell and I went out to look for a pub where we could buy a beer and perhaps talk with someone who was not part of our scheduled tour. After walking for some time, I decided to ask for directions. In my “best” (which is to say extremely limited) Russian, I asked a man in his early 50’s, “Excuse me please, where beer?” To my amazement the man chuckled and said, “I speak English.
What is it that you are looking for?” The man’s name was Stan, and he was an architect/engineer. He was accompanied on his walk by a cheery, round man named Tully. Stan was thin and small in stature with a very rich voice and a firm handshake.
They reminded me of Laurel and Hardy. Although Tully could not speak English, he tried hard to communicate with us using hand signals and facial expressions. Stan, who was Tully’s supervisor, was constantly telling him to shut up. They were very humorous together.
Stan offered to show us where we could find a pub, but when we got there it was closed. To make up for this disappointment, he invited us to come to his home for a drink. I immediately wanted very much to go, but r realized that we had just met these men in the street, and I wondered if it would be safe. Spencer and Jennifer and I looked at each other and decided we couldn’t let
this opportunity to go to someone’s home pass by.
After walking about five blocks, we arrived at an apartment with a living room, kitchen, and bathroom. It was nicely furnished and included a large color TV. Stan told us that he used to be better off financially before he was divorced. We met his girlfriend Gidia, a big woman who welcomed us warmly. Stan sent Tully out to buy some beer, and he sent Gidia into the kitchen. We had hoped to talk with her as well, but that came later.
We sat in Stan’s living room and talked about the United States. He was very curious to hear about the U.S. from an American point of view. We asked him to tell us what was being said on the television (he had habitually turned it on as soon as we entered the living room). He said they were giving agricultural news on one station, talking about the Friendship Games on
another station, and broadcasting a play on the third and only other channel.
After half an hour or so, Gidia came back into the room and with a clap of her hands said, “Now we eat!” This was a totally unexpected gesture of hospitality, since it was 11:00 p.m. The small white kitchen table was brimming with food, a full Russian meal beautifully laid out on the table—fried rice, chicken, beet soup, cabbage and fish salad, dried fish, rye and wheat bread,
butter, apple slices, and tomatoes delicately cut and then stuffed with egg salad. Also on the table were three shot glasses. Around the table were four small stools. Tully carried two chairs in from the living room, and all six of us gathered cozily shoulder to shoulder around the table.
Stan pulled down a small jar from the cupboard with just enough homemade vodka for three shots. He insisted that we three guests have the honor of tasting the vodka. We raised our glasses, toasting to world friendship. Then Stan toasted to world peace. A meal I will never forget had begun.
When we first walked into the kitchen, we had been hesitant about what to do, where to stand, how to proceed. Gidia asked Stan to tell us, “Don’t be embarrassed; act as though you are at home.” It touched me that a woman I had just met was so anxious to make these strangers in a foreign land feel at home. Would I be as hospitable to three strangers in San Francisco?
During the evening there were many toasts, songs were sung, and there was a general atmosphere of laughter and joy. At one point, Stan asked me to get some more beer out of the refrigerator. I was leaning against it, and when I opened it up I saw that there was nothing else inside. Suddenly I realized that they had put everything they had out on the table. As pipe smoke swirled around our heads and ribs sore from laughter took a rest, I mentioned to Stan that I had bought a Tchaikovsky record for my parents.
Gidia was an opera singer, and when I mentioned Tchaikovsky her eyes lit up—literally sparkling with joy as she had been able to understand something we said without waiting for Stan’s translation. “Tchaikovsky!" she exclaimed, and we nodded and said, “Da” (yes). Then she said “Beethoven,” and again we nodded. We said, “Mozart,” and she laughed and said, “Da, da!” Tully jumped in with “Cassius Clay!” “Da, da!” we said, (realizing he did not know the name Muhammad Ali).
We continued our litany of common heroes—Nadia Comaneci, Boris Spassky, Bobby Fischer (a name which Stan repeated with much reverence). Shakespeare, Gogol, and other literary giants were mentioned. Our mutual love and respect for these great, influential people was a strong bond between us that transcended our American-Russian differences.
Realizing this was a unique opportunity, I could not resist adding one more name—even at the risk of jeopardizing the evening’s festive mood. I said, “Solzhenitsyn.” At the mention of the author of the Gulag Archipelago, there was immediate silence. The
three Russians looked at each other, conferring quickly about how to respond.
I was beginning to regret having asked the question until Stan, in a very fatherly way, said, “Peter, we know Solzhenitsyn, but we do not know him, we do not talk about him for he has ...” Stan raised his hands together in the shape of a bird flying off into the sky. “I understand,” I said.
To ease the heavy tension I remembered that Tolstoy came from Kiev and asked, “Tell me, do you know Tolstoy?” “Tolstoy!” Stan shouted, “Tolstoy was born here!” (It had paid to major in English literature after all.) With great relief, I sighed and gulped down
some bitter beer.
It was difficult to leave their home, but we had to. It was getting late, one o’clock in the morning. We hugged and discovered that Soviets (at least the people we met) aren’t shy about expressing their feelings. They give strong bear hugs and warm kisses on each cheek.
Stan and Gidia and Tully were friendly and affectionate people whom I will never forget.Spencer, Jennifer, and I walked home that night feeling very fortunate. We had been inside a Soviet kitchen. I thought about Hedrick Smith writing in his book The Russians that you will not know Russia unless you can get invited into someone’s kitchen—for that is where the Soviet family spends its time, talking and sharing stories and songs and experiences. Guests are restricted to the living room, but family (people with whom you can let down your guard) are brought into the kitchen.
We had been there, and as I walked down the cobblestone road back to the Intourist Hotel I felt as if I had finally tasted Soviet life.
Peter Crouch is a first year student at San Francisco Theological Seminary in San Anselmo, California. in Trackings, The Young Adult Ministry Newsletter of the PCUSA.
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