Searching for Words

It seems that my native language is failing me. I've been in Russia a long time, after all, and despite my accent and the grammar mistakes that I continue to make, Russian is the language that I think in most of the time. Writing this blog, therefore, is rather challenging, especially considering that I'd like to write well.  When major events occur, then, I spend time first trying to interpret the incident, and then I try to find words to express what I see, hear, think, feel.

Lately these major events have been coming faster than I can process them. After an airplane full of tourists (most from St. Petersburg) was downed over Egypt on October 31st, I did not feel ready to write about the sadness and the anxiety that surrounded me, about how Natasha and I remembered our honeymoon there and realized just how many young couples were on that plane. Many with children. And none of them likely to have anything to do with the reasons behind the bomb that was laid in the plane. It was clear - it could have been any of us.

When the controversial French satirical periodical Charlie Hebdo published caricatures of the crash that offended many Russians, I thought of issues of sensitivity, empathy and healing and what a missionary might have to say about all of that. But I wasn't ready to write; I was still processing.

And then there was Paris. And Beirut. And Bamako. Even if they are all far away, we remembered again what could happen to any of us. We hear terrorism as often as here as Americans hear “Trump.” As you might imagine, we started using the subway less; I decided to wait for a while before taking the boys to the nearby stadium to watch our excellent local soccer team; we tried to get used to seeing riot police patrols. We heard how President Putin and President Hollande spoke about a "Grand coalition" of overwhelming military force to fight terrorism. I saw all this, and I thought about how Christians in this country and around the world might respond. About how it appears that a distinctly Christian approach has yet to emerge. But I couldn't find the words.

I'm not ready to write today, either. I'd like more time to see how things develop further, to analyze what might help readers understand Russia and what we as people of faith might do to care for our neighbors in these circumstances. Time would help.

And maybe it will still. But that shouldn't stop me from sharing with you what Russia feels like today. I'm not sure how to do that; maybe an example would help. Let's imagine that U.S. bombers are engaged in missions near some point of conflict. Let's pretend it's Afghanistan. And then let's imagine for a minute that a "frenemy" state bordering the conflict and in some way or another involved (that would be Pakistan, I'd imagine) shoots down our plane. The pilots eject, but one of them is shot dead in the air by locals; all this is captured on film for the whole world to see. And then in this imagined situation Pakistan says that it's America's fault. That they warned us.... OK, perhaps this isn't the best example. Let's try, instead, to replace Pakistan with Israel. Does that make you feel uncomfortable / anxious / tense / irritated? Well, while the example with Israel is even less likely and even less accurate in terms of the political situation, it does do something to help one see the emotions involved.

“Fever pitch” and “boiling point” and words that describe the seemingly countless hours dedicated by news programs and talk shows to this incident. And while one frequently gets the impression that the TV is an instrument for forming and controlling public opinion here, in this particular case the TV seems to be speaking for the “common man.” 

 Everyone is thinking about terrorists and Turkey and how Russia is always getting a raw deal. But they don't talk about it. People continue to go about their business. In our family Matvey needs to build a model of cell for school on Friday; Martin is relieved to have his first skating competition of the year behind him; Lukas is busy opening cupboards, playing whatever musical instruments and toys he can get his hands on and repeating the words that are actively becoming a part of his vocabulary. Streets are being swept and potatoes are being purchased and people are getting married.

But there is a general sense of...a sense of... and here I realize that the English words don't do justice to what people feel – treVO-ga, na-pryazh-EN-iye, raz-drazh-EN-iye (anxiety, tension, irritation). There is a general sense of the need to otomSTIT (get revenge). Then there are the words that Russian has in common with English. Words that themselves carry u-GRO-za (a threat) - li-kwi-DA-tsi-ya (liquidation), es-ka-LA-tsi-ya (escalation)....

Words are failing me. They seem to be failing all of us. And so we turn to actions, actions that tend to be neither in our own long-term interests nor the interests of our neighbors. The problem, of course, is not with our fluency. Or with English or Russian itself. The problem is with our minds, our hearts, our imaginations. These failures are worldwide and, today, these failures are manifest in the way Russians are feeling. It is a sad situation. And, to be honest, is is situation the has the potential to become even more dangerous.

What can we do? We can do what religious leaders around the world are calling for – remain calm. Think. Listen. Pray. More than that, though, I think that we can remain present with one another. I think that we can try to grow in empathy, that we can encourage our leaders to reject threats and violence with the understanding that these ultimately do little to provide the abundant living that God wants for all of us. We can try to embody peace, becoming agents of peace in our own communities. With words. Or without.