“Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after you.”

“Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after you.”
― Joseph Heller, Catch-22

These words have been in my head quite a bit in the past 6 months. It was in early fall that I began the dreaded process of renewing my Russian residency permit, and at the beginning it did not look like things would go well. Immigration officials in different offices told me different information about the process; it seemed like I was getting funny looks as they noted my country of citizenship. I heard various stories – of the Polish journalist who was deported, of the American pastor whose family was allowed to cross the border...while he was stuck in Finland.

Not that I have anything against Finland, mind you, but I was already imaging the various ways the application process could end badly – I could be denied on some technicality; I could be denied without even a technicality. I would have to live in Estonia and get three-month visas. We would need to move with the family to America...

The expiration date of my residency permit grew closer and closer. “My” immigration official in Rostov had been moved to another department. I no longer knew anyone. Days passed. “Wait,” I heard. And “wait” again. There must be something wrong. They must be finding a way to make a good show of exiling an American. “Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after you.” 

And then, as the working day was ending on the very day when my permit was to expire, I still didn't have my document. I was waiting outside of the office. I was told that I would get the stamp I need. But I didn't have it. It was 5.15 pm on a Friday. It seemed that my paranoia was going to live on through at least another weekend. Unless I was made to leave the country sooner. Or worse...

When you speak with your cat, that's not paranoia.
Paranoia is when you're afraid to say too much
while your cat is around.

And then, the “higher-up” who signs such documents came out of a meeting and, instead of heading home (as he could have done when the working day is officially over), he took the time to grab my folder, look it over, and sign my Vid na zhitelstvo. The process was over; I could legally remain in the country for another five years.

I can't explain why there were so many delays. But I can say that this country is changing. In years past, you wouldn't expect a bureaucrat to steal even a minute of his weekend for you. Not unless he was getting rewarded.

In my experience, this is not the case anymore. There is a chance, even a relatively good chance, that you might be treated as a human being by the bureaucratic machine. I wouldn't go so far as to say that the pressure of the “system,” is decreasing (that would not be the case), but on the other hand more and more frequently, when I push paranoia aside, I see that my interactions with government officials has taken a better turn.

Take the case of my meeting with a traffic police officer just a few days ago. He stopped me as I drove home from Matvey's skating practice; they were stopping everyone driving without their headlights on to warn them that there is a new rule about having your dims on even in the daytime. Besides my headlights being turned off, though, I had a more significant infraction - it turned out that I had left my documents (licenses, insurance and registration!) at home. Now home was just a few minutes away, but it was situations like these just a few years ago, where you felt fully vulnerable to the whim of the police. I was in the wrong, so, was the policeman going to ask for a bribe? Was he going to expect that I offer one? Was he going to tow the car to a safe place (at significant cost of time and money) while I go fetch the documents? I allowed myself only to hope that he might allow me to leave the car with him as I took the bus home to get the documents. But what did this policeman do instead? He allowed me to drive home in the car and return to him to show him the documents! Instead of letting distrust rule the day, he treated me as a human. And I was so thankful I almost wanted to bribe him (almost).

Like many of society's changes here in the past 15 years, this was actually a bit stunning. But it is also reflective of larger changes.

And it makes me wonder – maybe all of us are used to being a bit too paranoid. Whatever concerns the West has with this country (and I understand that there are significant and legitimate concerns) and whatever concerns Russia has with the West (and here, too, I can sometimes see the point) it would be helpful for everyone if we stopped treating each other as though the other is out to get us. Such thinking boxes us in to situations of either us or them, of over-emphasizing one side's being in the right while doing the same for describing the way the other side is in the wrong.

The government here, the one I was paranoid about a few months ago, has given me the right to remain here for 5 more years. I hope that in that time we can all move away from the Cold War environment that created “Catch-22” in the first place...and I hope that I have the wisdom to make my own, small contribution to that change, leading to a greater peace.  

Paranoia - sometimes we overdo it.

Exploring Eschatology

The more challenging the times, it seems, the more apocalyptic themes come to the forefront of our thoughts. Given Russia's current economic difficulties and problems on the international scene, it was no coincidence,then, that eschatology was the topic of our latest seminar for distance and extension students in Novosaratovka. And even if the timing of the seminar meant that we had somewhat few participants that we would have liked (it was hard for many to get off of work in late January when the New Year's / Christmas holidays ended on the 11th), the ground we covered will serve them (and our church) well, in times of high tension and in times of peace.

It was with this in mind that I approached the two topics I led during this seminar - "Theology of Hope" and "Pastoral Care of the Dying and Grieving." The latter set of lectures was a very basic introduction that probably only raised the curtain a bit on questions of our own mortality; these issues, of course, affect our ability to give pastoral care in end-of-life situations. A number of students expressed that even this short introduction was enough to give them a new approach based upon God's love shown to the suffering through listening, presence and empathy, instead of always trying to provide "answers."
As a part of this class we read from Lev Tolstoy's "The Death of Ivan Ilyich." It has been quite some time since I've used my own preferred method for thinking about theology - through great literature - in the classroom setting. But in my lessons of "theology of hope," too, literature was very useful. When explaining the context of the birth of Jurgen Moltmann's theology, we spoke about the difficulty of doing theology "after Auschwitz," and read from Elie Wiesel "Night." But to emphasize that the problem of enormous suffering that we humans cause one another is not specific to Germany, we also read from 2015 Nobel Literature Prize winner Svetlana Alexievich's "Second Hand Time," which tells many sad, sad stories from the point of view of ordinary people in Soviet (and post-Soviet) Russia.

Faced with headlines predicting total economic collapse and/or World War III, I find it particularly important to hold fast to a vision of God's coming reign and to use that vision to inform our daily lives. I hope that I was able to pass on this aspect of Moltmann's theology in my lessons. From the response of the students and the eagerness to which they responded to the news that (finally!) one of Moltmann's major works will be translated into Russia - our own Anton Tikhomirov is working on "The Coming of God" - I believe that I was successful. 

Students were also inspired in another way by studying eschatology - they saw the degree to which doing theology is a creative process. As one student told me, during this course she saw that theology is not simply about finding new ways to defend old dogmas, but that it rises out of our own experience interacting with Scripture and with the experiences of others. I am encouraged when I see people in this still emerging church ask new questions and welcome one another on the road of exploration.