Language: Existentialism and Sonder

Before I traveled abroad last spring, I had never thought about myself as a foreigner. This was quickly changed for me during the three weeks I spent in Hungary last year, and I'm being reminded of that countless times here.

Gunnar said something that struck me today: English is a foreign language here.

Going from personal experience today, with my interactions, I have found that to be true. And that's okay! I'm totally fine with being a foreigner who speaks a foreign language.

Language is powerful. It's a tool that can give power and it's a tool that can take power. I don't know of a feeling more helpless than needing to get a message across when you can't speak the language. But still, there are moments in life when language becomes secondary to the experience.

Communion for me is always the most important part of any service or mass I've been to. It's the part where I am reminded of who God is and who I am. It's the part where I feel connected to those around me. It's the part where I feel connected to those who I have lost in my life. It's the part of the service where I don't feel as though I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel for God's presence to descend upon the place and fill me up again.

The liturgy here is very similar to that of the liturgies used at home. There's some comfort in that, knowing that I'll have a general idea of where we are in the service and what to expect next. Part of the adventure, in my opinion, is not knowing what comes next and being surprised. I am thankful, however, that I am able to use my knowledge of liturgy to figure things out.

An interesting thought presented last night (and mulled over a lot by me today) is what it must have felt like on Pentecost with all the different languages, words, phrases, foreign sounds....yet, all praising the same God.

That's how I feel here, and how I felt in Hungary, and how I imagine I'll feel in Norway: I don't speak the language. I am picking up small bits and pieces (I figure if you hear the word for Lord often enough, you'll eventually know was word was just said and frankly, that's exciting!). But I am finding contentment in not knowing exactly what is being said. I am finding peace in knowing, however, that we worship the same God.

And when we have received communion, I still understand the words "The Body of Christ, given for you" and "The Blood of Christ, shed for you". That is so powerful for me. I am reminded of my baptism and of who I am in Christ with those words. I feel grounded again. I feel purpose and direction.

Several times on this trip, I've had moments akin to existentialism. Moments when I've become incredibly aware of my own existence, but reminded of how small I am in the grander scheme of things. One of those moments came when we were at the top of the tower in Hallgrimskirkja, looking at the city around us. I looked down at the tourists taking photos of the tower and I wondered if they knew that I was in those photos they were taking. I felt overwhelmed with a sense of sonder:

The realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own -- populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries, and inherited craziness. 

I am finding great comfort in this smallness, this sense that the world is much bigger than I am, and that God is much bigger than I am. I am rejoicing in these moments of growth and realization and finding new meaning in who I am. 

Gracious God, you make yourself known through many different forms of communication. Help us to open our hearts and minds to the ways in which you are speaking to us throughout this trip. Help us to continue to be open the experiences presented. Thank you for the amazing hospitality we've received so far and for the people who have helped and supported us along the way. Amen.