Am I really who I think I am?

While teaching at Hesston College, Kansas, a group of us formed a small group that met weekly. Most in the group spoke Spanish except for one friend. Once at a meeting we were jovially interacting in Spanish while my friend was a passive observer. After the meeting he told me: “you are a different person when you speak Spanish.” This was my first realization that this was probably true and it has made me think about how learning other languages has affected me as well. Am I really who I think I am? How am I different when I speak Spanish, or Swiss German? When a walk in and out of these language-induced personalities (personas?) which is the real me?

I became friends with a couple who were children of missionaries in Italy. He was from the USA and her heritage was Swiss. When I saw their wedding pictures, I viewed her as a sophisticated model and when she spoke Italian it in no way took away the image I had of her. When she spoke Bärndütsch (Bernese Swiss German) with us, she was suddenly transformed into a common, ordinary country girl. Who is she? A beautiful and sophisticated Italian model, or a simple country girl? Perhaps she is both. Perhaps it depends on which language she is speaking at the time.

Psycholinguistics is a field which looks at how language affects behavior and culture and how culture affects language. One can say that it is like the question, "Which came first, the chicken or the egg?" I have reflected a lot on certain usages in languages that influence how one behaves. When I learn and use these usages, have I changed who I am?

For example, in Spanish, whose speakers notably belong to a face-saving culture, they have a linguistic construction which reflects this reality. Instead of saying, “I dropped the ball,” they say, “The ball dropped itself on me.” In the English version, the subject, “I” takes full responsibility for dropping the ball. However, in Spanish, the subject is the ball, as if the ball was to be blamed for having been dropped. I am only indirectly involved, as an indirect object. Couldn’t one surmise that that is a face saving mechanism? When I use this expression which is grammatically called the “accidental reflexive” and many others like it, have I become part of the face-saving culture? 

In another example, in Swiss German, there is no simple past tense, normally called the preterite. To express time in the past, they use either the present perfect or the pluperfect. For example, we would say, “I took three pills.” They would say, “I have taken three pills.” The preterite tells us in English, that the action is over and done. The present perfect, on the other hand, tells us that the action in the past continues to influence the present moment. Our sentence in English isn’t complete until it tells us how it affects us in the present. “I have taken three pills” implies as of yet, up to now. I might take more. 

How might the use of the present perfect for reporting events in the past influence how speakers view past events? Does it mean that for them, things that happened in the past always continue to influence the present? That nothing is ever over and done? 

The Swiss German dialect also does not have a future tense. Adverbs of time are used with the present tense to show that something will take place in the future. In contrast, English has two forms for the present: "I will go to church tomorrow" and "I am going to church tomorrow." Spanish uses both futute forms and in addition, like Swiss German, frequently uses the present tense to speak about something in the future. For example,  both Swiss German and Spanish can say "I eat in a restaurant tomorrow" while that sounds very strange to an English speaker.

For the most part, English is very precise with its tense usage, but lacks the nuance and ambiguity of the subjunctive moods where Spanish excels. 

I have only given a few examples of how different languages influence thought, and by extension the cultures within which they are spoken. Since people have observed me  being different when I speak with Swiss German speakers and Spanish speakers compared to when I speak English, has my mode of thinking changed as well? Am I three separate personalities? Am I who I really think I am? 

I don't think I have split personalities. I believe I have been able to integrate the various modes of thought into one personality and that allows me more flexibility and openness in my thought processes. So it is with others who have learned to speak more than one language. 

 Other posts on language learning:

 Learning Language a Spiritual Discipline

 Technically Speaking . . . Motivation

 Confessions of a Polyglot 

Just Another Day in Washington, DC

No, this is not a post on politics. It's about a day showing our nephew from Switzerland, Andreas Moser, the usual turist sites to be found in that historical city, and especially the famous cherry blossoms during this time of the year. 

It started off fairly normally. We drove I-66 to Vienna, VA, to the first metro stop available on the way to downtown DC so that we didn't have to deal with parking and traffic in the metro area. We got off at the Smithsonian exit and headed by foot to the Jefferson Memorial and the Tidal Basin which is surrounded by cherry trees. The blossoms were a bit past their peak, but still beautiful.

After taking an inordinate number of pictures dodging mostly Asian tourists, we headed back to the Washington Memorial and then on to the White House. Because of added security since the BLM demonstration and the Capitol riot, we walked forever to find a place for Andreas to get a shot of the famous house housing our President.

We were exhausted and not only exhausted, but desperately needed to use a bathroom before continuing our adventures. We found a restaurant near the White House and settled down to a meal that cost $61.02 for a hamburger with fries and a salad. At least we got to use the bathroom. The toilets were not golden.

We tried to get back on the metro, but were surprised to find that the station was closed. We were told by an kind African-American man where the next closest station could be found. He asked us if we were tourists, and after responding that we were showing our nephew from Switzerland around the city, he smiled brightly he said that he was glad that tourists were returning to his city for visits. I observed that we had seen quite a few tourists thus far on our tour.

We found the station and headed for the Capitol. We arrived there at around 2pm, not knowing that just a few minutes before our arrival, a man had driven his car into a barricade, jumped out of it and threatened the police with a machete. He was killed by the police but before doing so had injured two of them, one fatally. The Capitol was put on lockdown, even though Congress was in recess, and few people were inside. We really didn't see anything that we thought was out of the ordinary while there, and were totally unaware of what happened until we saw a newsflash on our phones after we had departed the area. We then remembered that we had seen a helicopter flying overhead. It was reported that a helicopter had landed at the Capitol earlier. We jokingly thought it was carrying President Biden somewhere.

Our next stop was the Lincoln Memorial, which was completely on the other end of the National Mall. We had walked a great deal already, so we decided to get back on the metro to go to the closest stop to the Memorial. 

When we emerged from the Foggy Bottom station, there were hundreds of police cars and motorcycles surrounding the George Washington University Hospital. There was a cadre of media across the street from the hospital entrance. All the streets in the area were blocked by police. 

Being curious, we went to investigate. I approached a soldier: "Am I allowed to ask you what is going on?" I quiered. He gave me a friendly smile, and answered, "I can't tell you, but you will see it on the news.

As we walking down 23rd St. NW, the police cars and motorcycles came down the street. In the middle of the escort there was a black van which we decided was probably carrying the mystery patient from the hospital. 

We scoured our news websites, and found nothing. We didn't find out anything until the next day. Apparently it was the police victim of the Capitol incident, who had been at the hospital for forensic examination. 

With no further incident, we continued on to the Lincoln Memorial, then returned to our metro stop to return to where our car was parked. With two stops before station, they announced that train service was suspended, that we had to get off the train and go the rest of the way by bus. We waited for what seemed like an eternity until the bus finally arrived. We packed into the standing room only bus and headed out. Seemed like a super spreader incident since there was no way to social distance. 

Another eternity passed till we arrived at the next-to-last stop. There we were told that the train was now functioning again, and we were to get back on the metro to go to our final destination. We arrived without any further problems. Exhausted, we jumped in our car to return to Harrisonburg--another two hours.

Indeed, it was just another day in Washington, DC for many of its residents. For us, it was an extraordinary day in DC. I'm sure our Swiss nephew will never forget that trip. 

A Powerful, Defining Experience

 

Fellow borders (student, Peace Corps volunteer) 
with my host sister and son in Costa Rica

Coming of Age in Honduras is a fascinating memoir.  Persons who have lived abroad for a time in a culture different from their own, particularly in a developing country, are likely to find points of connection and much to identify with in Clymer's story of his two years living, learning, and serving in Honduras.  Even for persons who have not lived abroad, it offers important and interesting observations and insights written in an engaging, entertaining style with a transparency and honesty that at times can surprise.

The author's sojourn in Honduras affected him so profoundly that it became the defining experience of his life.  It captured his heart and soul and permeated his life; expanding his worldview, awakening him to poverty and injustice, informing his future life choices, and propelling him forward in his quest for God and his commitment to living out his faith with humility, empathy, integrity, and courage.

In the introduction, the author states, "My hope is that others who struggle with poverty and justice may find new insights for their journey with faith within this book.  I also hope that my story will be inspiring and entertaining." For this reader, it was that and more!  I'm sure that many readers will find it so.  

-Rosemary Hershberger

The VS house with library underneath

Town of Guanaja located on a Cay

The VS dory--our transportation

My best friend Marco Tulio

Prophecy conference at the Church of God in Guanaja

The pristine beach we enjoyed with friends on the island of Guanaja

Where to buy the book:

Masthof Press

Amazon

God is Waiting in the Silence: A Review of my Book

Guest post by Dwight Roth, Wichita, Kansas

Donald Clymer’s Coming of Age in Honduras is a memoir about his experience as a volunteer-conscientious objector to fulfill his Selective Service obligation in the years 1968-1970.  He parted from his provincial Mennonite  home to travel to Honduras at age nineteen and returned shortly before turning twenty-two. 

This narrative provides a unique look at the  intersection of Clymer’s sheltered Mennonite background and the cultural diversity during the rapid social change that was the nineteen sixties and early seventies. His gifts of anthropological insight and communication skills; especially his ability to speak Spanish, contribute to the narrative’s uniqueness.   

This distinctness is multifaceted in at least two ways. One, is the story itself.  A story about a young man, seemingly unprepared for difficult cross-cultural experiences.   Amidst his work in credit unions he knows the pathos of being tested by sexual desire and sees the pain of poverty and warfare. Clymer’s entrance on the Honduran stage is as an unknown. His exit is that of a folk hero, a Jesus man.

The other way this book is unique is largely implicit. The reader needs to look carefully and closely at what Clymer doesn’t say. The critical part of what is unspoken, is based in the best of his Anabaptist – Mennonite heritage. Too many words, the wrong words can negate narration. 

As with many people, Clymer is inspired by the Sermon on the Mount with its emphasis on peace and non-resistance. But Clymer’s life as a young adult and now as an elder and grandparent is distinguished by his Christian intuition in concert with his other gifts.

This is evidenced by his seeing God in everyone no matter their position. When the younger or older Clymer sees the face of a beggar, a woman of the night or others defined as marginal people, he sees the many faces of Jesus. 

Indeed, Clymer’s Coming of Age In Honduras is insightfully well written. Again, for me, the best part of his story is unwritten. Words are necessary - occasionally beautiful, but always limited. Without trying, Clymer connects with the collective soul. 

God is waiting in unlimited infinity. Clymer’s story given our linguistic necessity is an excellent way to hear the unhearable – to see the  unseen. Therefore, I highly recommend this insightful yet entertaining memoir. 

Link to purchase book at Masthof Press

Strangers and Aliens

Today I read the International Sunday school lesson written by Timothy J. Geddert. Geddert  writes for the Sunday school lesson on January 17, 2021, "All Christians are Exiles" (p. 40, Salt and Light, Winter 20-21). Furthermore, he writes, "[Peter] does not know these Christians (from Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia, 1 Peter 1: 1-2) personally. But he knows the Christian faith and their status as  exiles/pilgrims/sojourners/[aliens] (translations vary).

Mexican Old Order Mennonite children playing in a grain bin.

Coincidentally on the same day (Although Swiss  psychiatrist Carl Jung says there is no such thing as a coincidence), I read a blog post from a Jewish woman who stated: "I grew up worrying about Nazis. I was told again and again how safe my family felt in Germany; how assimilated they were; and how little that mattered in the end. The message was clear: society can turn and the neighbors who you thought were your friends will stand silent as you are pulled from your house at night. Others will spit at your feet. Others will be among the ones pulling you from your house. None of them will help you. In millions of small ways, it was communicated to Jewish children to not let our assimilation and current 'felt' safety allow us to forget the threat. So as jarring as the Nazi iconography and anti-semitic rhetoric on the far right is for us it is also, on some level, not a shock. It is a gut punch that we always anticipate." They need to keep a suitcase ready for the inevitable time when they must leave in a hurry. They feel like strangers and aliens in their adopted homeland. 

The Jewish woman was writing about the unprecedented attack on the nation's capitol on January 6, 2021, with all the Nazi and white supremacist symbols openly displayed by the rioters. My take from her post is that when we become so assimilated to our culture, people of faith can too easily become co-opted by the surrounding culture and be too easily deceived by its lies. Don't "let our assimilation . . .  allow us to forget the threat." 

The analogy of the frog in a pot of hot water is appropriate. I don't know if this is true or not, but the analogy states that as heat is increased in the water, the frog adjusts (assimilates) as the temperature of the water increases to the point that it eventually is killed. 

The Old Colony Mennonites in Mexico work hard to avoid assimilation to the surrounding Mexican culture. They don't allow their women to learn Spanish, and the men only do so in order to transact business with the locals. Planting an apple orchard is frowned upon, because of the number of years it takes for them to mature to make a profit. They need to be ready to pack up and leave at a moment's notice. They feel like strangers and aliens where they live.

My ancestors felt the same in Europe. My Clymer/Clemmer ancestors fled to Switzerland from France because of persecution for their protestant faith. Later they fled to Germany because of their Anabaptist faith and finally to the USA. They felt like strangers and aliens wherever they lived. Now my namesakes are here in the USA for over 300 years. Do we still feel like strangers and aliens, or have we, like the frog, assimilated to the point of our own cultural death?  

I'm not sure I want to be as "[un]conformed to the world" (Rom. 12:2) as the Old Colony Mennonites in Mexico. Yet it is biblical to remember not to assimilate: "For here we have no lasting city," (Heb. 13:14), and "[we are] foreigners and strangers on earth" (Heb. 11:13, et. al.). We belong to the reign of God, not to the reign of Caesar! Jesus is our leader and the Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 5-6) is our constitution. 

The pressures to conform and to assimilate are strong. We are blind to the water boiling around us. How can we avoid total assimilation and death of our faith? How can we live as citizens of the Reign of God instead of the reign of Caesar?

Winter Solstice and Planet Alignment

Written as part Lindale Mennonite Church's Longest Night celebration. 

December 21 is the Winter Solstice and marks the longest night of the year. It stays dark for more hours tonight than any other night; around 14 and a half hours. 

Alignment November 27, 2020

Before Jesus came to bring the light of salvation, and before science, people all over the world were afraid that because the nights kept getting shorter, that the sun would never come up again. And that they would forever live in darkness! It was quite frightening for them! So, they did all sorts of things to drive away the darkness, and to try to bring the sun back again! They put wreaths of candles on their heads, they danced around huge bonfires and prayed to their god not to punish them with darkness. In ancient Mexico, the Aztecs sacrificed human beings to placate their sun god. 

Long ago, during one of these dark, dark nights, three Wisemen were looking to the sky for a sign of hope. They saw a very bright star. They followed that star and eventually found Jesus, the true bearer of light and hope for the world of darkness. If you look at the sky on the 21st, and it is not too cloudy, you will see a very bright star to the south. It is so bright because two planets, Jupiter and Saturn, have come together to form that light! The last time this happened was over 800 years ago! Many people believe that the star the Wisemen saw was this same event; two planets coming together to form a bright light. So rare, that indeed it was a sign of hope for the world.

Alignment December 12, 2020

We light candles and put lights in our windows and homes during these dark nights to celebrate the coming of the true light: Jesus! We no longer have to fear that we will forever be in darkness. Neither the darkness of the longest night of the year or the darkness of our sins. 

Notice the sequence of the pictures on the dates from the oldest to the newest. You can see the progression of how Saturn slowly moves behind Jupiter until all you can see in the picture below are the rings of Saturn. Jupiter totally eclipses Saturn. 

Alignment December 20, 2020

My Political Views Expressed to Hondurans Where I Worked

 Who are the Mennonites? Are they a sect? Do they believe in Jesus? What do you think of Honduras? What is your opinion of the Vietnam war? Why are you here instead of fighting for your country? Do you like John F. Kennedy?  Were a few of their opening questions. 

I remember 1968, the year I arrived in Honduras, as being a tumultuous year in the history of the USA. The Vietnam war was continuing with body bags returning to the states on a daily basis. Anti-war protesters poured into the streets causing confusion and frustration on all sides of the issue. Civil Rights marches pushed the country to confront its racist past, if not present. Robert Kennedy and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. were assassinated. It seemed like the USA was being torn apart at the seams. What had been a model of democracy for the world was being exposed as having differing sets of laws for different groups of people and being hypocritical on its foreign policy motives. 

This wasn’t lost on Hondurans. The office staff at the hospital peppered me with questions about what was happening in the country of my birth. I was as confused as they were and being thousands of miles away from the turmoil made it difficult for me to form an opinion. I based my responses on my beliefs as a Christian/Mennonite. I belonged to the kingdom of God, not the USA, with Jesus as my leader and my church as my state. I did not participate in the politics of my country and was opposed to armed conflict of any type. My belief in Jesus’ admonition to love my enemies and to “turn the other cheek” defined my politics. My constitution was Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount in Matthew chapter 5. 

These views of Christianity were completely new to my listeners since most of them were nominally Catholic and assumed that the church and the state came in one package as it had since the Spanish conquest of the Americas. 

Where to purchase:

Masthof Press