Elliot Ritzema

Blog

  • Ah, Modernity!

    I started a class last Friday with the unwieldy title, “Christian Faith and Practice in the Postmodern World.” The opening lecture was largely about definition of terms: modern, modernism, modernization, postmodern, etc. Living during the time I have, I must admit that I have struggled with the definition of the word “postmodern” more often than “modern.” I have never been quite sure when the modern era started; I only know that most people believe it to be either over, or reaching a time of increasing radicalization and universalization that make it look unlike what it has looked like previously.

    Having thought about the modern era a bit during the lecture, I recalled having seen historian Paul Johnson’s book, The Birth of the Modern: World Society 1815-1830. Deciding that a little more knowledge about the modern era was in order, I checked all 1095 pages of it out of the library. Johnson maintains that the modern era started right around the end of the Napoleonic wars in Europe. He mentions in the preface that some people think that the modern era started in the 1780s with the industrialization of Britain and the French Revolution, but he disagrees with them (hence the rather obvious subtitle of his book).

    It was interesting to read this, since the only other time I have ever heard about the beginning of the modern era, I was informed that it probably came right on the heels of the Middle Ages. And the Middle Ages ended right around the time of the Reformation. Allowing a few decades for people to change religions, fight a few wars and get their minds around the whole “end of an era” thing, I was under the impression that the modern era started right around the end of the Thirty Years’ War with the Peace of Westphalia and the notion of nation-states (and, it being post-Reformation and all, it probably had a lot to do with new versions of Christianity popping up all over the place, too).

    Oh well, I suppose the debate over when the modern era started is for historians to work out. As for me, I don’t think it matters so much whether you tie the idea of “modernity” to nation-states or industrialization or anything else. When I read history, I’m less interested in precisely when eras began as I am in how events are tied together and give rise to something else that happened later. Regardless of precisely when it happened, or what signs accompanied its advent, something called “modernity” happened, and maybe is still happening, and it will be interesting to read about.

    However, I have faint hope that I’ll be able to finish Johnson’s voluminous tome before the workload of the semester picks up and I’ve got to drop it. But I hope I don’t drop it on my foot, because that sucker would hurt. As Gordon Fee would say, “You could kill a cockroach on a shag carpet with that.”

  • Chilkoot – August 2007

    Just before I left Alaska to come back to Vancouver, I hiked the Chilkoot Trail with seven friends. It was a great time, though rather grueling. We hiked about 36 miles in 46 hours, and this included a 3000+ foot elevation gain. The trail itself is 33 miles, but our 36 included 3 miles spent on the railroad tracks at the end, walking to Log Cabin rather than being picked up by the train. I highly recommend being picked up by the train, if you can time it right.

    We started after work on Thursday evening, August 30. We hiked 7.5 miles that first night and stayed at Canyon City. The last couple of miles we hiked was after the sun went down, so we kept on making loud noises periodically to alert bears and other animals to our presence. The next day, Friday, we hiked from Canyon City to Deep Camp – 16 miles of hiking. The hike from Canyon City to Sheep Camp was pretty pleasant, but then we started going up Long Hill, which is… long. When you get close to the top of Long Hill, you have to scramble over some boulders. I cut my hand on one, and I think someone else was injured too. There was a park ranger at the Scales who checked that we had permits and that we were feeling well enough to make it up the Golden Stairs and over the top of the pass. After stopping for a rest and some more water at the Scales, we headed up the Golden Stairs.

    All the pictures I’ve ever seen of the stairs are in the winter, when it is a steep hill of snow and ice. It was called “stairs” because miners cut steps into the snow and ice, and “golden” because they had to name it something to keep their minds off how grueling it was to carry their supplies to the top over and over. Since this was the end of August, though, there was no snow on the Golden Stairs; it was just a steep hill of boulders that took us about 30 minutes (if I remember right) to climb. Andy, who was hiking the Chilkoot for the third time that summer, told us about an elderly man who was hiking the Chilkoot with his son earlier that year. He stood up to take a look at the top, lost his balance and fell over backward, but he survived.

    It had not been foggy all day, but when we got to the top, we were in the low-lying clouds. We had a rest at the Canadian ranger station (since we were now in Canada), and then continued on. We started to go down in elevation, but it was not as steep as the climb up. For about a mile it was mostly boulders and patches of snow. I’ve never been to the north of Scotland, but the part after that reminded me of pictures that I’ve seen of the north of Scotland: rocky and grassy hills, with mountains on either side. We arrived at Happy Camp at about 5 p.m., and met some people who were stopping there for the night, but we had to keep on pushing to get to Deep Lake. We got there at around 7-7:30, exhausted. In all, we hiked 16 miles that day, with a 3000-foot elevation gain in the first half of the day.

    The following day we hiked from Deep Lake past Lake Lindeman and Bare Loon Lake, and the last 3 miles or so of hiking were on the railroad tracks to Log Cabin, where our friend Julie picked us up in a van – and she brought us pizza!

    Here are some pictures from the ol’ Killchoot, and some from the rest of summer 2007 in Skagway.

  • Hello Again.

    In the summer of 2002, I started a blog. I had just spent a year out of college, hanging around Richmond, VA and getting depressed about not knowing what I wanted to do, working at a job I didn’t like, and living with two friends who were in the exact same situation. But I got out of that situation by signing up with Educational Services International to go overseas and teach English. Just before I left, I decided that I would start a blog in order to keep my friends updated on what was going on as I went to Pasadena (for training) and Prague (for teaching). In the midst of a fierce bidding war, I even managed to secure the rights to elliotritzema.com.

    I maintained that blog for a year, adding news and pictures and everything else I could think of that would be interesting. My friend John even designed it for me, and made it look good (you can still view it here). I kept that up for a year, and then decided to move to Budapest to teach. John designed another spankin’ new Web site for that year, too.

    Then, after a year of teaching English as a second language and English literature, I went to Vancouver, BC and enrolled in the Master’s in Divinity program at Regent College. I kept up the blogging (on yet another new site), but eventually the flow of words slowed down to a trickle. Unlike the time spent in Europe, I just wasn’t getting out and doing a whole lot. I mostly read and wrote papers. I did get out of town for the next few summers and go to Skagway, AK to drive a tour bus. . . but I didn’t blog much there, either, because the Internet access was pretty dodgy.

    Over time, I stopped blogging partially because I felt that not much was going on to write about, and partially because I had to send all updates to John to put on the site. Why would I want to make him go out of his way to post something that I didn’t think was all that important?

    Now, however, the blog begins anew. And on my own site, so I don’t have to put someone else out by asking them to post things. The blogging philosophy is changing, as well: rather than dealing exclusively with events in my life (though there will be some of that), I plan on putting into words my thoughts about things that I read – both for school and for fun. Sometimes I find myself unable to articulate my thoughts in a coherent manner that communicates well to another person, and I feel that a blog will help me toward the goal of being able to communicate better.

    Also, writing has long been one of my passions, dating back a very long time (I’m not sure how long, but it came somewhere after speaking and reading). I have been told by those who have more experience than I do that writing a little bit every day helps to hone the skill of putting words together. For too long, I have taken the gift and predilection for writing for granted. It is time I began to use it in a more disciplined (and hopefully, productive) manner.

    So, here goes.

  • Back on the Continent

    Back on the continent

    I’ve now returned to the good ol’ U.S. of A., after my trip to Budapest, Bratislava and Prague. Last Wednesday I took a train north from Budapest and stopped in Bratislava to visit Laura. The next day, I continued on to Prague to spend time with Aaron and Phoebe and their son Nehemiah, the last of whom I had not met since he was inside Phoebe. He’s a great kid, and very energetic. He reminds me a great deal of my nephew, who is also two, blond, and loves Thomas the Tank Engine.

    We played ball a lot. He would bounce a rubber ball to me, and then I would bounce a ball back at him, but he would not catch it. He didn’t even attempt to catch it. Often, he watched it bounce off of him. I suppose two-year-olds haven’t developed their reflexes enough to catch things.

    He’s also a very fortunate kid, to have such great people as Aaron and Phoebe as his parents. He doesn’t know it yet, but I hope he does someday.

    Saturday, we all went to a concert performed by a choir from Philadelphia Biblical University. It was very good, and one song even had hand motions to it, which Nehemiah thoroughly enjoyed. It was just like the Happy Hands Club, which I’m told is his favorite part of Napoleon Dynamite. After the concert, we talked to the choir and the Czechs who attended the concert while Nehemiah flirted with the girls. I even talked a little bit with a guy about dispensationalism, which is a particular kind of theology taught at PBU. It was an interesting and coincidental conversation, because Aaron and I had talked about it just the night before. I could write a blog about 10 pages long about the great conversations I had with Aaron on this trip, but I won’t. I’ll just say that I miss him a lot already.

    When I got back to Budapest, I stopped by school on Monday to say goodbye to some students and colleagues. Then Brady wanted to go see the movie “Silent Hill,” and Sam and I went with him. I hadn’t seen a horror movie for a long time. And I was reminded why I don’t generally like them. I’m not against a little psychological thrilling, a little suspense, but gore is not my thing. If I wanted to see people’s fluids, I’d work at a blood bank. And if I wanted to see people’s skin burned off, I would be a sick, sick person.

  • Back in Big Boody, Part II

    Big Boody, Part Two

    For the past week or so, I have been hanging around Budapest, having a grand old time. Since I have been having such a grand old time, I don’t have much time to write a deep, reflective update about what I think about what I’ve been doing. I only have the time right now to make a record of some highlights.

    As mentioned in the previous update, on Friday I hung out with some students. In the afternoon, we all went to Sportliget to play some ultimate frisbee. I was awesome. Among the people that I play with every week when I am at Regent, I am not spectacular. I’m average, as ultimate frisbee players go, and a little bit taller than most. But compared to Hungarian students who never play, I am a superstar. So, I enjoyed being a superstar, but I think that everyone else enjoyed playing as well. Which is good, because it’s only fun being a superstar when other people enjoy playing with you.

    Friday night, Neal and Danielle and hung out with Chris and Marton, two students who graduated two years ago. We went to a club called Zöldpardon, which is outdoors and on the banks of the Danube, on the Buda side of the Petöfi bridge (I give you directions in case you are ever in Budapest and would like to go there). There was a Hungarian band playing, and they were quite good, though I’d never heard of them before (and even now cannot remember their name). But we sat and talked for hours, and it was great to have a couple of beers with the guys and see how they are doing. I never taught them, but I got to know them a little at the end of my year here.

    Saturday, Neal and Danielle had an engagement party for their Budapest friends in a park near Danielle’s flat. Great weather. Fun times. Threw the football. One of Danielle’s Hungarian colleagues brought a Diet Coke bottle filled with moonshine that could have stripped paint off a wall. Saturday night, Neal and Sam (who teaches at Trefort, our old school, until the end of this year) and I went to our friend Andi and her husband Balazs’s new flat. They are wonderful people. Andi teaches English at Trefort. Balazs is (I think) a computer programmer.

    Sunday we went to church, and then helped Neal and Danielle make wedding invitations. Sunday night, I can’t remember what happened, but I’m pretty sure it involved sitting around Sam’s flat and watching episodes of Lost on DVD.

    Monday, I went to the dentist for a cleaning, because it’s cheap here. About 40 dollars. Not too shabby. Then, a bunch of the boys went to Rudas Baths, a.k.a. the Manly Baths. They are for men only (but don’t fret, ladies. They are open for women on Tuesday morning and Thursday night), and you bathe clad only in a little white apron. There are pools of water at various temperatures, gathered from the hot springs under Budapest. Since I was here two years ago, they renovated them, and they are quite nice now. Not nearly as, um, ghetto as before. I did not get a massage, because the only time I got a massage before, it was not relaxing at all.

    Monday night, I went down to Csepel, because Skye and Janelle had a barbecue. Skye and Janelle are an ESI institution. They have been here for 8 years, and they are returning to America after this year. They had a barbecue to celebrate, and I was there. After the barbecue, Matt Ackerman, who also teaches at their school (and who will be there next year as well), convinced me that I had to see a movie called Victory. And, after seeing it, I have to admit that I did have to see it. It stars Michael Caine, Pele, and Sylvester Stallone in his first post-Rocky role. Yes, I said Pele. The premise is, they are all prisoners of war in a Nazi camp during World War II, and they challenge the German national team to a soccer game. I am not making this up. You must see it. And it was filmed in Budapest.

    Tuesday, a bunch of us went to Tortuga, a restaurant whose gimmick is that there are turtles swimming in water underneath the tables. There are also weapons on the walls, and the waiters are dressed like pirates. I don’t mean they have eyepatches and stuffed parrots on their shoulders. They’re tasteful pirates. Anyway, the turtles were pretty entertaining. One of them had gotten out of the water and was under Matt’s chair (we had one of the tables that did not have water under it). The turtle apparently wanted to get back into the water, but the steps back up to it were too high to climb. Matt, helpful soul that he is, decided to help the turtle by picking it up and putting it back into the water. It bit him, and he dropped it upside down. Then he pushed it into the water.

    The food was great. I ate turkey with plums and a sort of pear-ginger sauce. It was excellent. Sam had spicy chocolate soup with mushrooms in it. Matt had a parfait that didn’t look like a parfait. But still, who doesn’t like parfaits?

    Later, after we had gotten our food, the restaurant began to blare loud techno music at us, and the lights went down. A man came in, dressed in a hooded black robe and a gold mask, and carrying a cake with a lit firework on it. We watched him walk over to a table next to ours (some of us with our hands over our ears, the music was so loud) and place the cake on the table. Then he struck a pose, clapped in time with the music for a few moments, and left. The lights went back up. That had to be the most entertaining restaurant birthday celebration I’ve ever witnessed. Earlier in the evening Sam had said that he wanted to go there again in June for his birthday. He took it back.

  • Back in Big Boody, Part I

    hey folks, i’m in budapest – or as it is lovingly called, “the big boody.”  i got here on monday, now it is friday, and i’ve been having a grand ol’ time.  many of my friends who are still here are occupied during the day, as they are students or teachers, so i have spent a couple of days wandering around the city and taking pics with my new camera.  they’ll be uploaded when i get back to my computer.

    ahh, budapest!  it’s like i never left you!  nearly everything is the same as when i left, including the slightly surreal nature of everyday life.  on my first day back, i nearly witnessed a purse-snatching (i was getting onto the metro at the same time as this lady, and a guy ran up behind her and tried to grab her bag.  he didn’t get it, though, and ran off).  on tuesday, i was going to get drinks at a restaurant with amy and matt, but when the waiter discovered we weren’t going to get food, he kicked us out.  on wednesday, i was eating outdoors at a restaurant on andrassy ut with amy and a friend of hers, and we witnessed a) a guy step in dog poop, b) another guy slip on the same dog poop and drop the eggs he was carrying, and c) a blind man run into a bush.

    so nearly everything is the same, though there are some changes afoot.  for example, i hear that there are plans to renovate the sketchiest metro station known to man, kobanya-kispest, and turn it into a mall.  weird.  i hope they still allow people to sell things out of cardboard boxes when they do.

    tonight i’ll be hanging out with my old roommate neal (who doesn’t live here anymore either, but who is also visiting) and a few students who graduated two years ago.  more updates to follow.

  • (first East, and then) North to Alaska!

    Spring is in the air, and you know what that means: time to move.  I’ve moved pretty much every spring since I was 18 years old.  Now that I’m getting to be an old codger at 27, you would think that I would slow down and stay in one place for longer, but perish the thought, my friends, perish the thought.  Here’s the plan for the next few weeks:

    Tomorrow, Friday, I move all my stuff out of my house and put it in storage.

    Saturday, I go to Seattle with Ryan, Peter, Tony and Bob to see a Mariners game, and then stay with Tanya.

    Sunday, I fly to Budapest.

    Wednesday, May 17, I go to Prague for a few days.

    Sunday, May 21, I return to Budapest.

    Tuesday, May 23, I fly back to Seattle.

    Wednesday, May 24, I relax.

    Thursday, May 25, I fly to Skagway.  I will be there until September.

    I don’t know my phone number yet, since I don’t know which house I’ll be living in.  But I’ll let you know later.  If you’ll be in any of the places I will be this summer, I look forward to seeing you.  If you’re not sure about taking that trip to Alaska, do it.  It’s beautiful.  And I’ll give you a free tour.

    If I will not see you this summer, I hope to see you sometime soon after that. God bless you.

  • Horsemen of the Esophagus

    The title has nothing to do with what I am going to write about, but it is the title of an article on competitive eating in the May issue of Atlantic Monthly. I will not go into detail about the article, but I like it. So read it. Cherish it. And be glad you’re an Amurrican. If you are one. No, what this blog is about, truly about, is what has gone on over the past few days. And there has been a lot. So beginning with:

    A number 1: Went to see Eisley (with Brighten, Simon Dawes and Fair) on Thursday at the Croatian Cultural Center with some Regent friends. There weren’t any Croatians there that I could see; in fact, there were very few people there that I could see. Only about 100. Which I’m sure was a bit disappointing for the band, since here they’ve been on tour with Coldplay and their shows are selling out left and right in the States, and here in the ‘Couv only 100 people bother to come out and see them. The only good reason that I can think of is that this show was an all ages (read: mostly < 19 years old) show right in the middle of the exam period of just about every school in Vancouver. Everyone most likely had to study. Even I had just written a Hebrew exam earlier that day. But the bands were good, especially Eisley, and they didn’t seem too put out that there was a small crowd. I hope that they come back and more people decide to see them.

    B number 2: went down to Bellingham on Friday with Alex to get behind the wheel of a bus for the first time since last summer (and first time behind the wheel of anything since Christmas break). We both did all right. No major damage. I did hit a curb, but no biggie. We intended to train Friday and Saturday, but Jake told us after driving for three hours that we were doing fine and we didn’t need to make another trip down. So we went back up just in time for Tora’s birthday beach barbecue, featuring gobs of grilled meats and a cast of thousands. Well, hundreds. Well, a lot for a barbecue. We watched the sunset, we played frisbee, we munched and munched. Ahh, if only the weather were this nice all year round. . . then we wouldn’t get any studying done.

    C number 3: Dance party Saturday night at our place, the last such party before the wrecking ball descends in June, and wicked condos replace it. We wanted it to be low-key, and so although we had let people know by word-of-mouth, we didn’t send out an official invitation until, oh, Saturday morning. Quite a few people showed up, we had plenty of beer, we had large speakers, we had a bonfire. Even Hans Boersma, our systematic theology professor, showed up with his wife and youngest daughter, and even danced briefly. I was shocked at first, but very happy. I hope he didn’t mind the loud music.

    D number 4: Today is a beautiful, beautiful day. I spent much of the afternoon hanging out in a yard with my former community group and three children 4 and under. What could be better?

  • Hurling Balls at Pins and Dancing

    Regent’s second annual “Bowling Ball” was last night. What a relief it is to dress up like a fool and go hang out with your friends who are also dressed like fools. My own outfit was somewhat toned down, compared to what I’ve worn in the past to such functions. Is it because I’m getting older and more mature? Perhaps, although the reality is that I just didn’t bring much of my goofiest clothing when I moved out to Vancouver, for practical reasons. Plaid polyester suits, United Airlines coveralls with “Ramp Service” emblazoned on the breast, and bright orange hunting vests take up lots of room in the suitcase — and it’s not as if you can wear them to church every Sunday. The festivities ended at 10 p.m. because there was another group that had rented the bowling alley after us. Many of us moved the party to a local pub. When we first walked in, some of us were feeling a bit self-conscious because we were dressed so oddly, but it turned out there was nothing to worry about. Not only did no one comment on our clothing, but there was another group in the back who were dressed up just as strangely as we were. While our outfits were generally random, though, they were dressed up as things that began with the letter “F.” I never did catch why.
    But it just goes to show: there’s no need to be self-conscious, because you never know when you might run into somebody at the pub dressed like a fortune teller.

  • Crashing the Service

    A funny thing happened in church last Sunday morning. . .
    The pastor had just begun his sermon when there was a small bang, and then a louder bang coming from the back of the sanctuary. I was in the front, so I couldn’t hear or see clearly what had happened, but it sounded too big for it to be caused by a person. I thought, then, that perhaps a bookcase had fallen over or something. The pastor paused, and a few people in the back ran out to see what had happened. There was a bit of confusion, and people were obviously not going to pay attention, so the pastor continued to wait. Then one of the ushers came up to the front of the church and told the pastor what had really happened, and then he announced it to the rest of us:

    There had been a car accident outside the church, which was the first, smaller bang. The second, louder bang happened when one of the cars swerved and actually hit the church building. When this was announced, I was immediately curious to see how this could be so, since the church is set back about 20 feet from the street. But we continued the service (after several people, including a few nurses, went out to help the people involved), and so it wasn’t possible to check it out right away. At the end, though, I stepped outside, and sure enough, there was a car wedged in the corner where the front steps meet the main building. One person was slightly injured, and there was a hole in the church.

    That’s probably the most excitement I’ve experienced at church for a long time. I wonder whether that’s a bad thing, or a good thing.