As Far As We Are

I never intended on becoming a U.S. ambassador to the world. Normally, when I am at home in the U.S., I find myself generally disgusted with the state of affairs, usually with very few good things to say about my country. I mean, it’s not like we have American flags hanging from every corner of our house. But lately I have been shoved into the corner by one too many Europeans, and feel that I have to stand up for my country—at least a little bit.

At Taize, we met many great people from all over the world. We cleaned toilets with girls from India, the Philippines, and Korea. We discussed texts from the Bible with folks from the Netherlands, Germany, France, Columbia, Brazil, Austria, Spain, and Italy. We ate alongside teens and adults from Ireland, Chile, Sweden, England, and Finland. It was beautiful and fascinating to spend a week among so many different people, to pray and sing with them in several different languages, and to learn new things from each person we met.

Most people seemed to have the ability to separate “Americans” from “America,” and even though NO ONE we met had anything good to say about our government, most people accepted us with an open mind.

On the other hand, a couple people we ran into really dug into us. To be fair, all their questions and concerns about the U.S. are questions and concerns I also have: Why do Americans drive such large vehicles? What is going on in Iraq? Why does the government spend so much money on the military when there are elderly people who can’t pay for their prescriptions and youth unable to pay for college? Why did the allied forces in WWII bomb so many innocent people?

We want to scream, “I DON’T KNOW! I AM AS CONFUSED AS YOU! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!”

We do scream that—sort of. But then we try our best to honestly answer their questions and try to dispel the myth that all Americans are evil—that some really do care about the environment and don’t will the death of thousands of innocent people. That actually there are many people that didn’t even vote for the current president and are equally unsatisfied with the state of affairs.

Unfortunately, there are some young people that exclusively use Michael Moore’s films for their information on the U.S. To them, we are all gun-wielding, gas-guzzling war mongers who don’t care whose toes get stepped on as long as we get where we want to go. Eventually, these people usually concede that at least Josh and I have seemed to escape the dreaded “American plague” that the rest of the country is suffering. They tell themselves that by some stroke of luck, they have met the only sane Americans on earth.

This experience has forced me to two places: first of all, I feel like I need to be a better-informed citizen. Often, non-Americans are more informed on the politics and world issues than I am—maybe for a lack of good news sources, but nonetheless, I need to be more well-informed. And with the internet, there is really no good excuse not to be.

Second of all, Josh and I have found ourselves grasping to remember the beautiful things about our country. No, we haven’t bought matching American-flag sweatshirts, but we are finding that having a little national pride doesn’t have to look like a Wal-Mart store on the eve of the Fourth of July. Our beautiful national parks, a constitution built on freedom of expression, and inventions like rock and roll and the light bulb are nothing to sneeze at, you know.

That is why we have decided to call on you—our friends and loved ones that we consider to be intelligent, open-minded American people—to help us create a top-ten list of what is great about the United States (and if you happen to be reading this and call another country your homeland, you can feel free to give us your perspective on the good things the U.S. brings to the table). We all recognize and have talked to death about the ugly, almost unbearable aspects of our country and government. I think most of us are aware of the oppression, the dirty politics, and the big businesses trying to take over the world. But just for a few minutes, let’s remember that it’s not all doom and gloom. Let’s reclaim the good.

To get the ball rolling, here are a couple thoughts:

Eat Street: there are few places outside the U.S. where you can walk down the same street and see restaurants serving food from India, Malaysia, China, Germany, Vietnam, Greece, Mexico, you name it—its there. And that’s just in Minneapolis. Not only that, but often the people that are running these restaurants are actually from these countries. That’s right, in one street you can find people from literally every corner of the globe.

The National Parks: Being outdoors kinds of people, we have a deep appreciation for Teddy Roosevelt and his sanctioning of so many beautiful areas in the country as national parks. On our road trip out west, we took advantage of many of these parks, sleeping for next to nothing under the stars, surrounded by the redwoods, the Joshua trees, the Grand Canyon—you name it.

Baseball: Just kidding.

Share you thoughts with us …

- Jessie (and Josh), late April, 2007

We spent a week in Taize, France in a monastic community in the southern part of the Burgundy region. It is in a small town set on a hill about an hour by bus from the nearest train station. The place was started before the Second World War as an ecumenical and international prayer community, as a way bring reconciliation across nations through faith. People from all over the world come to visit, volunteer, and pray with the brothers who have committed themselves to a common life in simplicity. Large groups of youths regularly come to Taize, especially during the summer, but it is open to people of all ages. At times, upwards of 4,000 people join together from across Europe and the world, but in our week there were around 500.

We arrived on a Sunday evening just before the evening prayer. Three times daily there are prayer meetings which involve a time for songs, silence, and scripture in several languages (French, German, English, Latin, Italian, Spanish, Polish, and Russian were all sung or read in our week alone). Loud bells rung above us to signal the time of prayer. We were some of the last people to enter the chapel and found the nearest seats we could on some steps near some older people. There is no real seating in the place, just a big open floor and some chairs on the perimeter for people who have trouble kneeling or sitting on the ground. Most people kneel on the floor forming two inexact aisles. In the middle of it all are the brothers, a collection of men devoted to God through song and prayer, seated in a two long lines. Everyone faces towards what can only be described as the front of the chapel. Long orange cloth banners flow to the floor from the ceiling. The entire chapel is lit with candles and dim, low hanging lights. Icons of Christianity are located in several locations throughout the chapel. There is no pulpit, no preaching, no package; everyone just sings and prays together in common.

Shortly after we sit the music starts, a beautiful mix of harmony and chorus. It is truly beautiful. Everyone singing together the repetitive verses in beautiful harmony. A man and woman to our left add depth to the songs with alternate harmonies. The whole scene is powerful, the people around us alternately singing and kneeling to pray. About three songs into it, a smell rises into our noses and disrupts our previously holy trance. Jess turns a suspecting glance in my direction. My face cringed, I shake my head the honest truth, no. An older gentleman was sitting to our left, and two older women were directly in front of us. My money was on the old man, but Jessie wasn’t so sure it wasn’t one of the two women. The truth is, these same people were probably suspicious of us as well. The whole scene was tantamount to when you are confronted by a terrible smell in a single stall public restroom after waiting in a long. Your first thought is, “Cover my nose and get out of here as soon as possible.” You strain to remember the face of the person who went in before you, to match the person to this awful smell. You probably didn’t make eye contact, and anyways, by now he has already fled, long gone from the scene of this unpunishable offense. When you leave the bathroom, you know the judgement will be passed down to you so you try to think of a way to blame the last person. A hand signal, a rolling of the eyes. Then you remember that the next person probably won’t remember your face anyways, and you can leave rest assured that they will have to deal with this same problem when they leave the bathroom as well.

After a few minutes the smell subsides, and we are able to hold in our laughter. The music has caught our attention again. We are back to singing, enjoying the beauty of singing, and experiencing, God and his humans together.

- Josh, April 24, 2007