Practice what you preach

Last night I attended a meeting of Christian women (of all religious denominations) as a guest of one of my friends. She and I have often attended such meetings once or twice a year when I first moved to Norway, but our attendance has been more infrequent during the past decade. The format of the meeting is simple—a few inspirational lectures, a light dinner, some songs, and a main lecture usually given by a person who has a specific message to share. Last night that message was the importance of love in the arena of relationships; how reaching out with love dispels the fear in ourselves and perhaps in those to whom we reach out. It was a very good talk and it brought to mind the message of Mother Theresa, who always talked about the importance of love and starting with those around you—loving your family and those closest to you before trying to make a difference in the world.

What struck me however last night, was the experience we had on the way into the hotel ballroom where the meeting was held. My friend, who is a retiree and a woman who works tirelessly helping the downtrodden and less fortunate in our society, had made reservations for the two of us several weeks ago. She had sent a text message as instructed by the newspaper announcement for the meeting; she had the text message on her phone as proof. When we got to the entrance door, the receptionist did not find her name on the list of registered attendees; she told us that she had to ‘speak to a leader’ about whether we could be allowed to enter or not. I found this behavior rather odd, but said nothing, until 'the leader' came over to us, a small woman with a bloated sense of her own importance, who reiterated not once, but at least five times, the necessity of having received a reply text message as confirmation for registering for the meeting. The confirmation text message apparently allowed you to enter. I could feel my annoyance starting to rear its head; my friend is not a person who will defend or assert herself unnecessarily. She patiently showed the text message she had sent, to the leader, but she had not received a confirmation text message. The leader obviously did not like this at all, but rather begrudgingly allowed us to pay for and gain entrance to the meeting. The explanation for her hesitation was that there might not be enough food to go around for all the attendees. I’ll come back to that. We found two places to sit at a table with several other women and sat down. Wouldn’t you know, but the little leader appeared yet again to inform us yet again of the necessity of having received a text message as confirmation for our registration. At which point, I essentially told her to back off. Told her that we had now heard her say this close to ten times, and that if we were not welcome, we could get our money back and leave. It wasn’t that important for us to be there. At which point she backed off, and extended a welcome greeting to us. But that was only because I got mad and spoke up.

Why do I bring this up today? It struck me last night that there was very little Christian spirit in this little leader’s behavior. She was stuck on the ‘rules’, on following them to the letter, and she obviously needed to appear important to us. No confirmation text message, no entrance. She was worried about there not being enough food; you would have thought she was talking about a full dinner plate per person, which I might have had more understanding for. Not the case. When dinner time came, it was a simple buffet table—egg salads, bread, cold cuts, some fruit and a few cakes—nothing fancy and certainly enough to go around. As it was, there was more than enough food to go around; there were in fact enough leftovers that could have been given to the homeless and the poor who sat right outside the door of the hotel last night, in one of the richest countries in the world. I wonder what happened to the leftovers.

Here’s how the scenario should have played out. This is a Christian organization whose membership decreases for each year that passes, since it mostly consists of middle-aged and elderly women. They are not attracting younger women into the organization. They should be welcoming attendees with open arms, not pushing them away. They should have said immediately at the door, when they saw my friend's text message to them, 'Welcome'. And if there had not been enough food, they should just have said, ‘we’ll manage’, or ‘we can share’. Christ would have done that; he wouldn’t denied people entrance for lack of food. But what struck me the most was the utter lack of hospitality in this little leader; a less hospitable person I have yet to meet. It was disappointing, and it reminds me of how many times I have been disappointed when I have met people who call themselves Christians, yet who do not behave like Christ at all. I don’t care how many times you stand up and talk about the importance of loving others, of being kind to others. If you don’t practice what you preach, your message is not worth a dime in my book. Luckily, the rest of the evening turned out to be enjoyable and more in the spirit of Christianity, so that made up for their little pharisee of a leader. And that was a good thing, because I was moving toward a non-forgiving state of mind after our encounter with her. That’s certainly not the goal of attending such a meeting. 

One year ago

May 12th 2011 marks one year since I started this blog—a happy anniversary to be sure. I have often commented throughout this past year that this blog is a labor of love, and it remains so. I enjoy writing it, and even though there are times when it seems as though I’ve hit a dry spell, ideas and thoughts come flooding back after a few days. The experience of hitting the dry spells followed by the creative periods or vice versa has been a good reminder about the importance of patience and of learning to live one day at a time. It has also been a reminder not to worry too much about the actual process of writing. I actually knew this from before, because I have been writing poetry for years, and can attest to the fact that inspiration ebbs and flows like the tides, and sometimes does seem to come out of nowhere. But of course I know that there are a lot of things always going on in my subconscious, and that ideas and thoughts can suddenly bubble up to the surface of my consciousness, and then it’s up to me to grab them and to make something of them. It is a challenge these days, amid all the stress at work, to grab a hold of as many ideas as possible. Because one thing is certain, ideas come and go, but when they go, it is almost impossible to get them back in the form in which they first appeared. You lose the specific angle, the edge, the tone of the idea or thought you wished to present. It is frustrating when that happens, and is why I carry a notebook with me so that I can jot down ideas as they arise.

On May 12^th of last year, I attended a Town Hall meeting at the Hotel Bristol in downtown Oslo arranged by the American Embassy. It was the myriad of feelings resulting from that meeting that led to the desire to write a blog, to share my thoughts and feelings about being a New Yorker (and an American) in Oslo. I have realized that writing this blog has helped me reclaim my identity as an American. It is easy to lose one’s identity in a foreign country. You speak, write and read another language that is not your own. You must communicate with others in a language that is not your own. You risk misinterpreting what others mean because you do not understand the nuances in this new language. You risk saying things in the wrong way so that others misinterpret you.  In the beginning, it is challenging and fun to live behind the mask of a new culture and language; it can become exhausting to do so and ultimately unnecessary. No one in this country is expecting me to be Norwegian; it is my own impossible expectations that I had to fit into this culture that have made me tired at times. I am sure if I had been easier on myself that I would be less tired now. I would not have fit in any better, but I would have more energy!

A lot has happened during this past year. Perhaps the saddest event was the death of my friend and colleague, the American woman who attended the Town Hall meeting with me. We always enjoyed doing such things together as Americans in Oslo. It is only now that I am beginning to understand how much I miss her. And I see that my workplace misses her too. People are part of our lives, and then they are not. The contrast is blinding at times, like intense sunlight. Another reminder to ‘see’ the people who are in our lives—to not take them for granted.

I watched a very good film recently on TCM—The Straight Story. I recommend it highly. It is the moving story of an old man who sets out on a journey to visit his estranged brother whom he has not seen or talked to in ten years. It is based on the true-life story of Alvin Straight who traveled from Iowa to Wisconsin to visit his brother Lyle who had recently suffered a stroke. What makes the trip unique is that he makes the journey on a tractor, and travels through parts of the USA that seem to have been untouched by the passage of time. He meets truly friendly people along the way—who help him when his tractor breaks down and who share small parts of their lives with him. The film is made all the more touching by the fact that the actor who played Alvin--Richard Farnsworth--was terminally ill with cancer when he made the film. He committed suicide about a year after the film was released. His physical problems in the film were in fact real—he had problems walking and was in a lot of pain. His film ‘journey’ was his last journey—his confrontation with his own aging and mortality. It must have been incredibly difficult for him to make the film, and yet he did. You can see all of the different emotions he must have been experiencing so clearly in his face. There are very few films that make me really cry, that touch a really deep part of me—this was one of them. Watching it was yet another reminder about how the movement toward forgiveness of self and of others is one of the most difficult journeys we make in this life. It is the most important journey of all. 

#1--American Embassy Town Hall Meeting in Oslo

This is my first blog ever as an expatriate living in Oslo Norway. I have lived here for twenty years and decided tonight, after attending a Town Hall meeting at the beautiful Hotel Bristol arranged by the American Embassy, to start writing a blog about my experiences living here in Norway. I think I have some ‘street credibility’—twenty years in one place will give you that.

Well, what is the definition of an expatriate? It simply means someone who has left his or her own country and moved to another, and lived there for a while. It doesn’t mean that I have given up my American citizenship. I would never do that. Norway does not allow dual-citizenship, so if I became a Norwegian citizen I would have to renounce my American citizenship. Not likely. The USA allows multiple citizenships. I’ve got to wonder why Norway doesn’t.

Well, tonight the American Embassy officials did something they have never done in the twenty years I’ve lived here. They actually invited American citizens to a town hall meeting to present themselves, what they do, and how they can be of service to us. It was a good meeting, inspired no doubt by the openness of Obama’s White House. Most of my meetings with the embassy up to this point have left me with a cold feeling. It’s not that the embassy workers have been rude; it’s just that they’ve never been friendly. I can only remember one time in all my years here where the American Embassy sponsored a cocktail party to welcome the American company BioRad to Norway. Both Norwegians and Americans were invited to that party. It was held at the ambassador’s personal residence and was a very nice affair. But tonight was different. The feeling in the air was different. It was a good feeling, a friendly feeling. People were laughing and talking together and having a good time.

It was good to be together with Americans again. I have to say I just miss hearing English at times. My language—and the sense of humor that is uniquely American—that combination of self-deprecation, sarcasm, joking, lightness that just makes one feel right at home. It puts you at ease and that’s a good thing. Americans are friendly people. No matter what you may think about the superficiality of that friendliness, it helps strangers break the ice and gets them over that initial wall of social awkwardness.

Some of the attendees got up and asked questions at the end of the meeting. Some of them had comments about their negative experiences in Norway. I had to laugh. One fellow got up and told us about how Norway wouldn’t accept his law degree from a top school in the USA. I remember how my Master’s degree in cell biology from New York University was downgraded almost upon my arrival here in this country. My education had to be evaluated by a formal committee which concluded that a Master’s degree from anywhere in the USA was simply not equivalent to the Norwegian version of a Master’s degree—called a cand.scient. That was in 1990. How odd that twenty years later, the country is only interested in offering Master’s degrees and PhD degrees. No more cand.scient or dr.philos. or dr.scient or dr. med. In a country of 4.5 million people, it boggles my mind that there have been so many degrees offered. The rest of the world simply could not begin to understand how complicated the educational system here really was. Thank God it is becoming more streamlined.

I could write a book about my experiences here after twenty years. Perhaps I will one day. Right now, I am going to write a blog and I hope that you enjoy reading it.