Many, many years ago--I think it was the summer after my mission when I returned to Germany to visit friends for the first time as a non-missionary, my good friend Lutz Wagner gave me his father's iron cross from the first world war. (I am pretty sure it was his father and not his grandfather--I believe he was already quite old when Lutz was born).

I was very honored by the gift. With Germans, the idea of friendship is deeper than it is most of the time with Americans, it is something closer to family than anything else. At least with the Wagners, with whom I lived for several months, I know the relationship goes beyond simple friendship. So you can imagine how I felt when I looked one day (for a class) and could not find the iron cross anywhere. To make matters worse, this summer Lutz mentioned that he had had a medal from his father and didn't know where it was anymore. I had to admit to him that he had given it to me years ago, but that I couldn't find it anymore.

Of course there is a happy end to the story. A couple of weeks ago my parents threatened to throw out all my stuff that was still at their house (it's less than 20 years since I lived there) if I didn't go through the boxes and decide what I wanted to keep. Guess what I found? I feel a little like the woman in the parable that cleaned her whole house and found the money she had lost.

Objects are really just things that should not be important to us at all, but when they become symbols then that changes them altogether. I can't help but think about the changing meaning behind this one. When it was given, it was a symbol of one man's service to his country--a country that, by the time the cross was awarded, did not even exist anymore. For years during the socialist era, it must have sat in a drawer, nearly forgotten as it would have represented a time of capitalist empiricism to some had it been displayed too openly. It was also a symbol of war and militarism and so somewhat ambivalent in the best of times. To Lutz, I would think that it would serve as a memory of his father. I should probably give it back to him.

To me, however, it is a reminder that the family I am a part of is bigger than that I was born to, or that have been born to me, that there are people that I hope to enjoy the eternities with. That, I think, is what it means to have a Pearl of Great Price.

Why it is Good to Have a Backup National Identity

Let us review: after beating Australia 4:0 in the preliminary rounds, Germany then defeated--no crushed--England in the first knock-out round. Saturday morning, the German national side turned its sights on South American powerhouse Argentina. Everyone expected that finally someone would give the Germans a run for their money.. The result? once again the opposition is humiliated by Germany's lightning quick counter attacks and swarming defense.

Anyway, my boys and I have been enjoying cheering for a winner for once, and we hope that the fun will continue a little longer. As a friend of mine pointed out, the German team reflects the change in German culture over the last 40 years. On the team is one player of Turkish ancestry, two from Poland and one from Tunisia. Germany is increasingly a country of immigrants-- and not just the guest workers of fifties and sixties, and I find it very encouraging.

On the other hand, the United States managed to not embarrass themselves at the World Cup. They tied England and overcame some horrendous calls by the referees, with a injury time goal to make it out of group play. Against Ghana, they managed a heroic comeback only to lose out 2:1 in overtime, ending the hopes of espn to have a successful World Cup. --On the bright side, if the U.S. ever did win the soccer championship, it would be the end of all foreign relations, and the rest of the world really would hate us. So it is nice to have a backup Country that you can identify with--especially if that team has scored 15 goals in the last five games (almost as much as in an American football game.
So to all my friends and coworkers that have connections with Argentina, all I can say is, too bad. You chose your second country poorly. Time to learn German.

Adam's new girlfriends

My son Adam playing cards with Heiko Hengst's daughters in Hohenstein-Ernstthal

Here We Go Again

Today is the first of May and my first full day back in Berlin. May Day is of course the international day of the worker when the socialists remember the call to unify themselves in revolution against the establishment. The establishment celebrates May Day by holding hands behind plastic shields to make sure the socialists are properly anti-social within their carefully established space. In Berlin these marches are countermarched by the Neo-Nazis, who celebrate May Day here by dressing in black, and by throwing rocks at the socialists and the establishment. The counter-marchers are then counter-counter-marched by others who just want everybody to get along–especially if they can get a good drink while doing it. Soccer is not the national pass-time of the Germans, protesting is. Most of the citizens take in the road blocks and the transit stoppages stoically as if it were just another change in the weather.

I plan to celebrate May Day by sleeping off what is left of my jet lag quietly in my room. My appetite for taking in civil unrest from close range has never developed to the point where I have felt like I need to take in civil unrest from close range. I wonder what the soccer score is?