Short Takes

Mood: relaxed, tired
What I'm reading: New Evidence that Demands a Verdict by Josh McDowell

Take 1: I'm perched uncomfortably on the plastic bench of the S-bahn reading a passage about a man waiting to go through an Israeli immigration que at the airport.

''. . .our [2 year old] daughter and I stood in one of the lines, having been warned to expect a. . .drawn-out morning, possibly taking up the entire day. . .We were surrounded on every side by machine-gun-clutching soldiers whose glares led us to believe that we were all guilty of something. There were sandbags piled against every wall, and a real sense of unease pervaded the room. [our daughter] had locked eyes with a young Israeli soldier who was staring back at her in eye-to-eye ''combat.'' Suddenly and strangely there was a moment of silence in the room, broken by the squeaky little voice of my daughter asking the soldier, ''Excuse me, do you have any bubblegum?'' . . .He paused for a moment, then carefully handed his machine gun to a colleague. He came over to where we were standing, looked endearingly at Sarah, and picked her up in his arms. . .''

At that moment I raised my head from my book to see a young middle-eastern boy, perhaps 10, pointing a realistically made pistol at my head and wearing a military uniform from his country. The picture struck me as ironic, since the author I was reading had just painted a picture of the innocent wonder of childhood.

Take 2: Class is over for the day. A group of us have headed to a friend's house to try some Peruvian food. We speak about European food politics (genetic engineering, tariffs, purchasing locally grown foods as a moral action), the differences in educational opportunities between our countries, and why we do, or do not, believe that humanity needs a unified moral code.

Take 3: I've finished babysitting for the Bonnets. I get onto a nearly deserted train to make the 40 minute journey home. I consciously avoid sitting next to a man who looks like he may be a homeless skinhead. I want to close my eyes and rest. I have no energy left for today. He doesn't understand, or perhaps he is so desperate for companionship that he does not care. He takes a seat next to me and, after telling me that he is a skinhead for Karnival, begins to play U2 on his guitar. I listen quietly until a passenger from the back of the train yells at him to shut up. He feels insulted and oppressed at the way he is treated, and lets me know it. I feel sad that he seems so adrift. I start a conversation and find out that he is a Hamburger (many Germans are fiercely proud of their hometowns). We discuss many of the same things that I had talked about with my classmates that afternoon. Before the conversation was filled with a tired optimism bred by an expectation of future opportunities. Tonight it is a dense bitterness, punctuated with passionate swearing and a pervasive sense of hopelessness. He sees no purpose, no future. Pray that he may find the hope that only Christ gives.