New SLMS Newsletter!

The October 2017 issue of the newsletter of the Siberian Lutheran Mission Society (edited by yours truly) is up!  Past newsletters (15 years' worth!) can be found here.

To support the work of the SLMS (with 100% offerings doing directly to Siberia), click on the donate button!

Bonus: a short documentary of the Siberian Evangelical Lutheran Church, made in 2007, is available here:


If you would like to see my travel blog from my 2011 tour of many of our Siberian cities and sister churches, you can click here.

Shoe Repair Shop Fixes Bible!

There is a local shoe repair business in Gretna that Mrs. H. and I have been frequenting for many years: Moran's, located at 301 Westbank Expressway.

It is a husband and wife business run by C.J. and Mary Moran.  They always give prompt, courteous and professional service.  They have facilitated the near-miraculous reincarnation of my loafers many times beyond their normal lifespan with sole and heel replacements - as well as repairs to the stitching.  They have also provided Mrs. H. with countless heel tips for her boots and shoes. 

I want to give C.J. and Mary a public pat on the back for going "above and beyond."  I have a pocket-sized leather-bound ESV Bible that I bought while I was still a seminarian.  It has given me years of excellent service.  There is, however, a weak link: the leather strap that holds the bible closed.  It had frayed to the point of wearing out.

The bible really needs a way to hold it closed.  I could not find a good solution.  I certainly did not want to discard the Bible.  I'm always loathe to do so as this is God's Word.  Moreover, I like it.  It is "comfortable."  It is also well-made.  Aside from the Achilles Heel of the strap, it could last for decades more.  It has already been with me my entire ministry, from my vicarage in South Carolina, to teaching and pastoral work in New Orleans, and on planes, trains, and automobiles across North America for private meditation and public lecture.  It even went with me to Russia two years ago - from Moscow to the mountainous Republic of Khakassia in Siberia just north of Mongolia.  In fact, my colleague, the Rev. Dan Johnson, made use of it in the pulpit of St. James Lutheran Church in Novokuznetsk where he preached a sermon.  This proclamation of the Word of God and the open carrying of an English Bible by an American clergyman would have been unthinkable only twenty years ago.  My little globetrotting ESV has quite a story, and it is clearly not finished yet!

Looking for a solution, I took the Bible to Moran's.  Mary looked it over, and said that she could replace the leather strap and have it for me within a week.  It would cost me the princely ransom of $8.95 plus tax.  I was thrilled!

She actually called me back about an hour later to let me know the job was done.  I picked it up right away, and it looks great!  She has breathed new life into this little Bible.  I wonder how many other shoe repair businesses would have just automatically said "no."  Mary Moran didn't!  She thought outside the box and found a way to meet her customer's needs.  That, to me, is the greatest argument for a free market: everybody wins and the standard of living improves for all involved.  And it also gives us the opportunity to serve our neighbor and glorify God by our life and work.

So way to go C.J. and Mary!  You will certainly see us the next time our loafers and heels need to be born again.  If you live in the area and are looking for prompt and quality shoe repair service, I heartily recommend Moran's!

Please Pray for Father Pavel

The Rev. Pavel Zayakin is a faithful parish pastor and evangelist in the Siberian Evangelical Lutheran Church, a sister church body with the Lutheran Church - Missouri Synod.

I wrote about meeting Father Pavel here and here.  He is a heroic worker for the kingdom of God.

Anyway, the Most Rev. Vsevolod Lytkin, bishop of the SELC, wrote this on November 9:

Last Saturday afternoon Fr.Pavel Zayakin drove his car from remote village to Abakan [in the mountainous republic of Khakassia not far from Mongolia - Ed.], but accidentally gone out of road and turned upside down.

As road was empty, and nobody was to help, they walked to a nearest village.  They found a man with excavator who helped to turn the car back to the road.

The passengers and Fr.Pavel are OK but we need to organize medical checkup  for him.We ask you to pray for Fr.Pavel and his passengers.

In Christ,

Vsevolod,

bishop, SELC

If you would like to help, you can e-mail Bishop Vsevolod at vsevolodlytkin@hotmail.com or contact the Siberian Lutheran Mission Society at their website here: http://siberianlutheranmissions.com/.

Here are pictures of the accident sent by the bishop.  Lord, have mercy, and thanks be to God for his protection of this faithful servant and priest of the Lord Most High!  Our pastors in Siberia must often navigate treacherous roads as they provide pastoral care to people in remote areas.  Please keep them in your prayers on a regular basis!  

Moleskine for the 21st Century?

The Moleskine is a seemingly anachronistic product in this day and age of smartphones.  But the company is doing well and they are expanding into related markets other than the simple pocket notebook with which its name has become synonymous.  Moleskine claims descent from the little notebooks used throughout history by famous writers and artists - even the brand name was the creation of a writer (Bruce Chatwin) who relied on them before they disappeared briefly from the market - even though detractors accuse Moleskine of stretching the truth on this.

The above video shows the "correct" pronunciation of Moleskine - the point of which is that there is no correct pronunciation.

Since last year's trip to Russia, I carry one with me everywhere I go.  It stays in my back pocket, and I use it to take notes in meetings, write prayers, make to-do lists, jot down numbers, websites, ideas - anything and everything.  I then copy important notes to the Internet (I'm trying out Evernote now) and/or to other journals (such as my edited travel journal I kept in Russia).

The little 192-page notebook (in all its various formats and sizes) has become so popular that there is a sort-of Moleskine community of people who share artwork, ideas, and even hacks to make the Moleskine even more useful. I recently submitted my own hack-that-isn't-reall-a-hack: rather an idea as to how to keep a pen and Moleskine together in the back pocket, using the Fisher Space Pen.

I'm at the tail end of my current notebook - which I have been using since September last year.  It is actually a Moleskine knockoff called a Picadilly.  It's not quite as nice, but it did hold up pretty well.  I had previously blogged a link to a review comparing the two.

After I complete this notebook (about ten more blank pages left), I'm going back to Moleskine.  It's one thing to read reviews, it's something else to use the products oneself.  Just on personal examination, the Moleskine is simply more robust with a cover that feels more like leather than cardboard.  Besides, the Picadilly is no longer available at Border's for five bucks.  They can still be gotten online, but at just a smidge less than the Moley.  And considering that it may last for the better part of a year, the extra couple bucks in cost is worth it to have the better quality.

Even in this day and age of the iPad and iPhone, the Moleskine has a few advantages: You can use it any time on a plane, it doesn't have to be charged up, you can keep it tucked away in a pocket without worrying about sensitive electronics being damaged, it only costs about twelve bucks, it can be coordinated with digital data storage, and writing with pen on paper has some distinct advantages in terms of creativity.

My Siberian Adventure - Day 24 - July 20, 2011

Begin: Yekaterinburg
Fly to: Moscow (Domodedovo Airport)
Fly to: Washington (Dulles Airport)
Fly to: Kenner (Louis Armstrong Airport)
Drive to: Gretna

My alarm goes off at 4:30 am.  Dan is up and ready to shower.  I begin to pack my bags and close up my cot.  I am able to IM with Grace one last time.  We are very excited.  I am bleary-eyed.  The sky looks as bright as it did three hours ago when I went to sleep - not quite dark.  In a matter of minutes, the sky becomes blue.

I distribute my things between bags and pack clothing as best as I can to protect fragile items.  I pack my backpack inside my carry-on in case I can't have my carry-on with me under my seat.

Father Sergey arrives on time and drives us to Yekaterinburg's Koltsovo Airport.  The language barrier and time of day makes it a quiet ride.  Before we leave the car to walk to the terminal, Sergey gives me two CDs - the ones he had been playing in the car.  He gives the third disk - Dire Straits - to Dan.  He accompanies us to the terminal.  He joins us through the preliminary security search.  It was not aggressive, but I was frisked by a lady officer - something that (at least so far) is not done in the U.S.

We head to the check-in line and say goodbye to Sergey (who has to work at his full-time secular job today), and head off to security.  Again, the blue footies and the naked-scanner.  This time I see that there is a small locked room blocked off by frosted glass where the naked-scanner operator works.

We make it to our gate and a bus drives us to our plane.  It is an A320 - not large but not small either.  There are three seats on each side per row.  Dan and I are seated together.

The Ural Airlines staff is friendly, but they speak almost no English - but enough.  Our flight to Moscow is less than two hours.  They serve a hearty boxed breakfast - which is almost like every other meal in Russia: salad, hot dish (chicken and rice in my case), bread, butter, cheese, meats, a cookie, a small cup of tea, and even a little chocolate bar.  I save the bread, cheese, meats, and chocolate to bring back home to share.

Our flight was wonderful and comfortable.

We arrived at Domodedovo Airport, and it is very familiar thanks to my introduction by Elena.  What was formerly exotic and a bit intimidating had become comfortable.

There are a few new experiences, however.

We were selected for some kind of interview after checking our luggage.  Perhaps this was because of the crucifix around my neck.  We were asked what we had in our bags.  The young woman x-rays our bags, but strangely, there is no operator at the console to look at the images.  She then had us open our bags and rifles through all of our things, asking questions about whether or not we have "cultural" items.  What the hell does that mean?  The only reason I think I know what she might be after is because of the story I had heard of the LCMS pastor a couple years back who was detained at the airport because he had an antique crucifix that he had purchased.  He had bought it legally, but such things are not permitted to leave Russia.  The irony is that in the Soviet Union, such things were destroyed.  Now, taking them out of the country - even if you have purchased them legally - is not allowed.

The lady officer handles my books repeatedly and asks questions about "icons."  Since all of my icons are in my checked bag, and none of them are antiques, I answer "no" to all of her questions.  She wants to know what souvenirs I have.  I explain that I have refrigerator magnets, coffee mugs, etc.

She is finally (though reluctantly) satisfied, and we hastily repack our things and leave.

We head to Passport Control.  This is in a section of the airport known as Passenger Control.  Dan and I go to different lines, as he has one of the new electronic passports with the chip.

There are two young women decked out like Panamanian generals in the booth.  One takes my passport and unceremoniously removes it from the plastic cover.  She looks at it, looks at me, yawns, and flips through it trying to look official.  I stand patiently.  She doesn't ask me any questions at all.  She gives me my passport back and turns on the green light for me to exit.

At security, we were again (for the second time, I believe) asked if we had packed our own bags.  We then head to the blue footies and the naked-scanner, assemble our stuff, and finally emerge into the airport proper.

As the airport has wifi, I was able to IM with Grace.  Dan and I have to hang out and wait for the United agent to show up.  Dan discovers the self-check-in kiosks and is ale to get his seat assignment and boarding pass.  Mine will not work for some reason.  I have to wait until 9:15 for the United personnel to arrive.

In line, we meet an elderly man who is a native Russian who has lived for more than 30 years in San Francisco.  He is a trained mathematician and was a designer of computer chips in Silicon Valley.  His wife is dying of cancer.  The details of his story are unclear.  He considers both Moscow and San Francisco to be his homes.  Like many scientists and mathematicians, he went to school in Novosibirsk.

The United agent is a young Russian woman who asks me if I packed my own bags.  She takes my passport to another clerk, and there seems to be some kind of discussion.  I wait.  I still have no seat assignment and no boarding pass.  She finally returns with my passport and sends me to the booth to check my bag.

The agent there asks me if I would like to upgrade to Economy Plus for $100.  I decline.  What seems to be happening is that the economy seats have been overbooked.  Nevertheless, I receive what appears to be a boarding pass, though without a seat assignment.

Lacking available airport seating, Dan and I take up a position near the elevator in the main part of the airport.  We have some time.  We take turns going to the bathroom - there are long lines.  I'm able to briefly IM with Grace again.

I'm reflecting on the airport security issue.  We went through the naked-scanner.  I'm wondering why we still have to remove our belts and shoes if they are able to look at the inside of our gonads.  I guess it keeps the blue-footie people at their jobs.  More likely it is the general principle of Soviet government (from which we in the United States are not exempt) according to one of our Russian friends: to humiliate and dominate the individual at every turn.  It's about control.

Anyway, I would like a coffee, so Dan and I take our carry-ons and go for a walk.  Ah!  A nice coffee shop whose Cyrillic letters spell out "Coffee Mania."  It's a mania all right!  A cappuccino is $13 U.S.  A simple cup of tea is even more!  There are vending machines in the airport, but we don't have any small bills.

We return to our gate to learn that our flight is delayed.  I get online and send a few e-mails and facebook "thank yous."  We learn that our plane has "mechanical problems."  Great.  We find a small airport magazine store that sells drinks.  A plastic bottle of Coke is only 47 rubles (a little more than a buck and a half).  Iced tea is 170 rubles.  Interestingly, Diet Coke (Coke Light in Russia) is twice as expensive as regular Coke.  It's made, I believe, with saccharine - and tastes terrible.  I buy us a couple drinks and pay with Visa.

Prior to boarding, there is yet another agent at the gate who asks us if we packed our own bags.  There are not enough seats at the gate, and we are standing - like many others.

After a long wait, we board.  Dan and I are not sitting together.  In fact, he has been put into an Economy Plus window seat, while I am again in "the middle of the middle" for the longest part of the trip home.  We are informed that our connecting flights are being rerouted.

I'm squished between two Russian guys whose families are in the rows in front and behind.  I had taken my Nook, my computer, and a couple books and put them in my backpack at the gate.  This enabled me to have them under the seat in front of me while my red wheeled-carry-on is overhead.

At 2:45 we are in the air - about two hours late.  Our connections are being rescheduled.

I'm tired.  I'm going to take a nap.

Here come the drinks.  I order a ginger ale.  The stereotype is true: all the Americans want ice while the Russians decline.  The Russians prefer juice - orange or tomato - while the Americans prefer soda - as a rule, that is.

Dinner (lunch?) was not as good as what the Russian airlines served.  It wasn't bad, but rather just tasteless.  The salad was a bowl of leaves that tasted like paper.  I took a bite and didn't touch the rest.  One of the Russian guys next to me asked me what the salad dressing was for.  I told him that it was for the "salat" - and then told him that Russian "salat" is better.  He laughed.

The chicken dish with rice wasn't bad, nor was the little cake - a sort-of mildly industrial strawberry.  he bread was definitely industrial.  Welcome back to America!  Rather than risk another instant coffee, I opted for a tea.  Less of a gamble.  It's hard to screw up tea, though it was not served with the bag as it was on Russian flights.

I would have liked to have practiced Russian with my neighbor, but I didn't even know enough to get started.  I will have to work on it.

It's 8:00 am NOLA time and our plane is crossing the border from Sweden to Norway.

I sure hope that either I can make my connection or get another route home today.  This is a long flight, but knowing that I will see Grace and Leo makes it a great joy!  I can't wait to get home!

The stewardess comes by with the coffee.  It is brewed!  I'm sure drinking coffee will be a mistake.  My poor system is not going to know whether it is time to sleep (it is 8:00 pm Novosibirsk time) or time to wake up (it's 8:00 am NOLA time) - but I'm really Jonesing for a coffee.  The Moscow Airport cheated me out of my cappuccino by its avarice.  So, no matter the consequences, I'm having my coffee, dammit, and with milk and sugar to boot!  It's not good, but it's coffee - and it didn't set me back twelve bucks either!  I figure this will help ramp me back up to the good stuff.

I almost bought a Turkish coffee urn at the Moscow airport, but Dan had warned me about the Moscow prices (confirmed by the cappuccino), and I said "nyet."  Besides, I really didn't have room in my carry-on.

After all of this liquid, I have to pee.  I'm in the middle of the middle, of course, just as I was on the way to Moscow, and both of my seatmates are sleeping.  I nudge the poor guy on my left and say: "Извините. Туалет." (Excuse me. Toilet.).  He's a good sport, and gets up to let me go by.

I have to wait a long time.

After returning, my seatmate speaks to me in broken English.  He says, "I love God."  I remember this expression from one of Richard Wurmbrand's books.  This seems to be an idiomatic way of confessing Christianity.  Indeed, he is a Christian - a Pentecostal.  He knows that I am a Christian, perhaps from my table prayer and sign of the cross, or maybe because of the cross around my neck.  I tell him that I am a Lutheran pastor.  He has lived in the U.S. for a few years, though English remains difficult for him.  His wife and children are in the seats behind us.  His children are fluent in English.  They used to live in California, and now they live in Maryland.  They just returned from a seven-month trip to Belarus to care for elderly relatives.

I get back to writing and he gets back to sleeping.  Since we are back in the Western hemisphere - just off the coast of Iceland and almost to Greenland - I change my wedding ring back to my left hand.  It feels more natural there, but has been on my right hand long enough to create a small calloused ridge.

After several hours of transferring journal notes, I decide to rest my hand.  I'm beginning to get a little tired.  It's 12:20 am Novosibirsk time, 12:20 pm New Orleans time.  We're heading into Labrador.  We have covered 5,396 km at 34,000 feet, 3:09 (hours) to destination, 2,500 km to go.  It is -38C outside of the plane.  Our ground speed is 517 mph, 835 km/h.

We land about an hour late.  It does look like I will miss my flight.  I meet up with Dan as we rush off the plane.  We head to customs, go through quickly, pick up our bags, recheck our bags, and go through security again - even though each minute that goes by means missed connections.

People are steamed.

The line is chaotic.  People are frustrated and in a hurry.  I finally emerge to inquire about my flight.  The board says it has left.  The customer service rep, an elderly man, is smart-alecky and rude, being quite obnoxious to a couple of German girls in front of me - who don't seem to understand his "humor."  He sends me to customer service at C-20, and tells me with a smirk. "There will be a long line."  I consider for a split second telling him this is why Americans are not always liked around the world.  Instead, I thank him for his "help."  Welcome back to the United States.

Anyway, I rush over to gate C-20 and meet up with Dan.  This is the selfsame place that I had met Herbert and Klaus at the other end of this adventure.  And it isn't quite over yet!  Dan had phoned me and met me there.  From the line of unhappy international travelers, I ask him if it is possible just to go back to Siberia.  Things are not looking good.  The clerk informs me that there are no other flights to New Orleans today.  He could get me to Houston.

But, here comes a break in the gloom, a tiny crack in the window of opportunity that could slam shut any second.  It seems that there are (what else?) mechanical problems on the flight to New Orleans, and it hasn't actually taken off yet.  He suggests that I run to the gate - which is a long, long way.

Dan and I sprint along the airport.  At the gate, I am told we are waiting for information.  Nevertheless, I am given a boarding pass!  Of course, this assumes that we will fly.

Dan and I head to the bar and enjoy a final пива - a couple of Stella Artois.  We were both very pleased with how the trip went, and both expressed appreciation for one another as travel companions.

We say goodbye, and I head back to my gate.  There is a Starbucks on the way, and a latte makes friends with the beer in my belly.  They seem quite as compatible as Dan and I seem to be.  I return to my gate, and it turns out that I have even more time to wait.  So, I walk back, meet up with Dan again, and wait with him at his gate.  After a short wait, he boards and departs.  I walk back to my own gate, and, thanks be to God, we are boarding!

I am even in Economy Plus this time on the A319.

God willing, I will be with my family at home soon!

It's time for this adventure to draw to a close.  We land at New Orleans Louis Armstrong Airport - which is actually in nearby Kenner where Grace and I first lived when we moved to the area - with Leo in tow in utero.  That was an adventure of a different sort, as planes used to fly so close to our home that we could just about see the faces of passengers in the windows.

We land!  With excitement that borders on disbelief, I head to baggage claim.  And there they are: Grace and Leo!  My bag arrives quickly.  Leo is beaming as both are clinging to me with excitement.  Grace drives us back to Gretna where we celebrate my homecoming to America with ice cream at McDonald's.

So now, this adventure has ended, and our adventure together as a family begins anew.  Thanks be to God!  Amen!

Here is a link to all of my pictures from Day Twenty-Four.

My Siberian Adventure - Day 23, July 19, 2011

Begin: Chelyabinsk
Drive to: Yekaterinburg
Drive to: Polevskoya
Drive to: Yekaterinburg

I woke up a little on the late side and took a shower.  I was beginning to think that there was no hot water - but my patience was rewarded.

Dan, Alexy, and I enjoy a very nice buffet breakfast in the Green Restaurant downstairs - which is included.  This breakfast is like Russian supper - with sausage, chicken, and pasta - along with more typical breakfast foods like boiled eggs.  There are also the traditional drinks - water and fruit juices.  One berry drink is translated as "hip drink."  Father Alexey doesn't know why.  The music is a little odd, quite loud, a sort-of disco or fitness club version of Indian or Middle Eastern music.  I actually dig it.  We check out of the hotel and meet Father Sergey.  I'm armed with bottled water that Alexey purchased for me.  Russians drink a lot of bottled water.  This one is sparkling ("living.").

We drive to a drab factory building where Dan's wife's company has a branch office.  He hopes to get inside for a picture, but security won't let us in.  We wait in a cramped reception area.  A manager with whom Father Daniel has corresponded comes down and apologetically gives Dan some brochures to take home.

We hit the road which is terribly bumpy, posing for pictures at the sign indicating that we have just left Chelyabinsk.  The terrain between Chelyabinsk and Yekaterinburg is wide open with bright yellow fields.  There are birch forests in the distance.

We arrive at the church flat, drop off our things, and eat lunch at the food court - at Blinoff, a pancake (blini) place.  It's outstanding!  I had a pancake with "old Russian meat" - which is a spiced beef - as well as a cherry pancake with a sweet condensed milk sauce.  I also had a soulanka, a roll, and a coffee (which was not instant!).  The pancakes are actually crepes.  They are made on the spot on two large griddles.

After lunch, we head off the to the Orthodox diocesan store for my last opportunity to buy icons for souvenirs.

Father Sergey drives us to the archbishop's residence - which is opulent.  There is an army of Mercedes and Lexus cars.  We see bearded and cassocked clergy surrounded by secret-service-type bodyguards with sunglasses and earpieces.  It was rather surreal - quite a contrast to our own bishop with his Toyota.  A lot of people have apparently been turned off to Christianity in Russia because of the financial dealings of some of the Orthodox churches.

After parking, we walk into the store and start shopping for icons.  Of all of our icon-buying trips, I have been unsuccessful in finding an icon of St. Raphael the archangel to bring back to Grace.  Even now I can't find one - until I visited the very last room and looked at the very last icon!  I see a small icon of an angel.  The Cyrillic letters are hard to read, but I sound it out and it comes out like "Raphael" to me.  I point to the icon to buy it, and the lady says: "Raphael."  Very cool!

Father Daniel and I pick up some icons and Father Alexey buys a stack of books.

Afterwards, we head back to the church flat for a quick change of clothes.  We all get into our clericals as we are headed to the local ELKRAS congregation for a visit.  This is Father Dennis's congregation, the pastor I offended regarding women's "ordination."  His predecessor was a woman who was there for three years.

Father Sergey drives.  He has been playing an interesting and eclectic mix of very good pop music in the car: soundtracks from House, MD, an album called Dead Man's Bones, a collection of Christmas tunes by Annie Lenox, some blues, and Dire Straits' Brothers in Arms album.  Father Sergey is a Dire Straits/Mark Knopfler fan.  Dan asks about Dire Straits and I fill him in on the Brothers in Arms album.  Sergey listens in with amusement.

The ELKRAS parish is located in Polevskoya.  The congregation meets in a rented room in an office complex.  We are greeted warmly by the pastor, who is young and speaks some English and German in addition to Russian.  The congregation is nearly all older women.  There are two younger women and one young man and one old man in the congregation.

Fathers Sergey, Daniel, Alexey, and I sit in the front row behind the small keyboard.  Father Alexey translates as Father Dennis explains that we will sing a couple hymns, have a prayer, and then we (the guests) will speak.

The service book has many short hymns.  They are essentially "praise songs" of a Taize character.  We sing one such song, singing the Russian part three times, a Latin translation twice, and then repeating the Russian again.  The next song we only sing n Russian.  Dennis led the singing and played the electronic organ.

There is a small but dignified altar set up for communion with a Bible situated in the middle.  There is also a small, dignified pulpit.  Both altar and pulpit are adorned by a pair of flickering candles.

There is a small icon of Christ on the wall, under which are three western depictions of our Lord.  There is a little table underneath with a candle, an open Bible, and a crucifix.  On the Bible is an Orthodox rosary.

After a short prayer, Father Dennis introduces us.  I spoke about our congregation back home, about New Orleans, and about my family.  Father Daniel does the same regarding his family and parish.  I related the story of how Grace had once told me that she would live anywhere but New Orleans which everyone found amusing.  I also told them how Grace was the daughter of a nun and the wife of a priest who was given a most appropriate name for a Lutheran pastor's wife.

Afterwards, a lady asked about Hurricane Katrina.  I took her e-mail and will send her links to pictures.

Dan also spoke about the catechism and the sacraments.  I spoke about the heroic nature of Russian Lutheranism and implored them not to take their freedom for granted as, unfortunately, many Americans do.  Sergey and Alexey also give brief addresses.

The congregation was very hospitable and treated us to tea and dessert pastries afterward.  They gave us a box of them to take with us.  I offered to take some home to my family, but they warned against it - as they were home-made with sour cream.  So I took a picture instead.

We drove back to the church flat in Yekaterinburg and reflected on what a tragedy women's "ordination" is.  These are nice people who have been led astray - including women in their eighties who had never seen such things in he churches of their youth.

We arrive at the flat and say our goodbyes to Father Alexey.  He is flying back to Novosibirsk, having found a flight for the same price as the train would cost.  Father Sergey will be by at 5:20 am tomorrow morning to bring us to the airport.

Dan and I change clothes.  I check e-mail and have an IM session with Grace.  I send my dad a SnapYap message.  Dan and I head back for one final visit to the beer tent.  First, we decide to walk around the mall.  Unfortunately, it is in the process of closing.  But we take a short walk and snap a few pictures.

We drop into the beer garden to find our familiar waiter working.  He knows just what beers to bring us.  I decide to eat, and so does Dan.  I order mante (steamed dumplings) and a plav (rice and meat).  The portions are pretty good-sized, and the price is reasonable.  Dan also orders a plav, and along with the beers and a generous tip, the total is 600 rubles - about $20.

Our waiter takes our picture.  We explain that we are flying back to America tomorrow.  Actually, Dan explains in Russian accompanied by hand gestures.

We head back to the flat to pack.  I decide to shower then rather than waiting until 4:30 am.  I am excited to be going home, as I am missing my wife and son terribly!  It is hard to fall asleep as my mind races.

Here is a link to all of my pictures from Day Twenty-Three.

  

My Siberian Adventure - Day 22 - July 18, 2011

Begin: Yekaterinburg
Travel to: Chelyabinsk

Father Daniel wakes me up at 8:00 am.  I'm tired.  I get some tea and some Coke.  I take a quick shower in the church flat's super high-tech shower stall.  It looks like it was made in Japan and includes many sophisticated knobs and settings - not to mention a radio.

Dan offers some cheese and bread - which I am happy to accept.  I get on the computer, and have a slow internet connection through Father Sergey's cellphone USB gadget.

I am able to finally IM with Grace.  It is still her birthday there.  It's kind of like when the day was lengthened for Joshua.  Grace's birthday will be about 36 hours this year - not counting our family tradition of extending birthday celebrations over several days.

We are both very happy to "talk" to each other, as our separation is getting very long.  We have been married 17 years and have spent only a few nights apart - when I toured with the Concordia Theological Seminary Kantorei as a student about ten years ago.  Needless to say, I am greatly homesick.

Fathers Alexey and Sergey arrive about 10:30.  Sergey is waiting for technicians to install a wireless router - which has to go through the heating duct of the building.  Father Daniel and I join the two of them in the kitchen for tea.  We have a long extended discussion about the movie Catholics: A Fable - which Alexey enjoyed very much.  There are great parallels to today's liturgical conflicts and pressures for the church to change with the times.  It is an intriguing film on many levels.

Sergey announces that we now have wifi.  We take it for a spin.  I download three free books by Dostoevsky - including Crime and Punishment (the detective character in which is the inspiration for the character Columbo) - which Dan is reading.

Father Alexey shares with us that he has just received an e-mail from a young man who attended one of our summer seminars and now desires to enroll at the seminary in Novosibirsk.  He remarked that at the summer seminars, the Gospel was clearly taught, articulated, and proclaimed.  Alexey notes that his trip has been fruitful, yielding at least two likely prospects for the seminary.

We hit the road.

At least in my admittedly limited experience, Russians drive far more aggressively than we do - but without the road rage.  They do more passing on the highway.  It's best not to look.  I begin reading Crime and Punishment on my Nook.  In the opening paragraphs I run across this poignant quote: "It would be interesting to know what it is that men are most afraid of.  Taking a new step, uttering a new word is what they fear most."

Father Sergey, our driver, plays an eclectic mix of music in his car.  He and Alexey speak animated Russian in the front seat.  We are now 41 km from Chelyabinsk.  We begin to see the smokestacks that epitomize this industrial city .

We arrive at the Malachite Hotel, a large Soviet era establishment downtown.  There is a lot of English in the lobby as well as the feel of the older Soviet hotels.

We check in, filling out forms and leaving our passports.  There are clocks on the wall showing the time in Moscow, Paris, New York, and Chelyabinsk - all in Latin (as opposed to Cyrillic) letters.  The lobby has a dated (or perhaps more flatteringly, "retro") feel to it with wood paneling and steel lettering.  Customer service is very good, though the staff speaks only Russian.  We rely on Father Alexey as translator.

The elevator is a dinosaur, complete with clunky manual push-buttons for the floor numbers (reminiscent of the old-fashioned car radios with the push-buttons) and a button to make the thing go.  It lurches and clunks loudly upon reaching the desired floor.

I will be sharing a room with Father Alexey tonight, and Father Daniel will have his own quarters.  Our room is small but comfortable.

After checking in, we walk around the corner to the pedestrian mall.  The weather is pleasant and a lot of people are out walking.  We buy a few souvenirs and take pictures as we head off to eat lunch.  Chelyabinsk is often symbolized by camels - though they no longer live here - as a nod to the history of the nomads that used to travel on camelback.  Hence the camel on Chelyabinsk's city coat of arms and the frequent statuary depicting camels.  The Ural region is also famous for its pelmini - which are like little raviolis stuffed with meat.  They are boiled and served hot.  It was originally peasant food that sustained the people of the region all winter.  They were made after the harvest time and kept outside frozen, to be eaten throughout the winter.  We pop in to a popular pelmini restaurant.

I have the now-familiar salad of tomatoes and cucumbers, bread, and a boar pelmini - along with a cup of tea.  This place is well-known and offers many exotic types of pelmini.  It's very good and filling!

After lunch, we drive to the place where Holy Spirit Lutheran Church meets - a community center where many groups rent space.  The usual room in which the church meets was rented to the church today for a special service of Vespers and Holy Communion because of our visit.  However, the room was double-booked for a party of some sort.  So the church was given a beauty salon room for the evening.

We pull in front of the building and Father Vlad (Vladislav Inanov) emerges with a big smile, gives me a large embrace, and says in English: "Hello, my friend!"

We make our way inside past a receptionist at a desk.  We wind our way to the beauty salon in which a small desk was placed in the middle of the room and transformed into an altar.  A crucifix was hung on the wall between two salon posters advertising beauty products.  The room is surrounded in mirrors.  Father Vlad quips that the mirrors make it seem like more people are in church.  Father Sergey discreetly removes the towels that have been hung over the ledge to dry.  A small padded kneeler, just big enough for three, is reverently placed in front of the altar for communion.

Father Vlad leads the service, and Deacon Victor assists.  We sing hymns and Psalms a capella.  The small congregation sings with gusto.  The Mass is dignified in spite of the surroundings.  Father Vlad is a capable and devout celebrant.  We all take the Holy Supper together.

Video excepts of the liturgy follow: the opening hymn, the opening prayer, the Kyrie, Confession and Absolution, the Psalm, the Reading, the Creed and Lord's Prayer, the Consecration, the Agnus Dei, the Post Communion Canticle, and the Benediction.

This is for me one of the many high points of our trip.  Only a few weeks before, I had confessed to Vlad that it was a dream of mine to come to Chelyabinsk and take the holy sacrament from his hand.  Not only did I make it to Siberia and to Chelyabinsk, we were able to partake of the Lord's Supper together.  A short description of this glorious event appeared on page two of the September 2011 newsletter of the Siberian Lutheran Mission Society: "With God, All Things are Possible."

Afterwards, father Daniel and I were invited to make a few remarks.  I took the opportunity to present a plaque hand-made by a member of my congregation, Ron Cantrelle, which reads in Russian: "Holy Spirit Congregation" carved into a piece of Mississippi cedar.



The parishioners are very appreciative, and take turns sniffing the cedar.  They are a small but faithful parish.

Father Vlad is very personable and friendly.  He and Victor are both Ukrainians and I am told that Ukrainians generally smile more than Russians.  Vlad's wife Svetlana came to the service a little late with her 6-month old Melissa and her well-behaved 3-year old Sophia.

Victor's wife Natasha (who is well along in pregnancy) is there with their teen-age son Nikita.  It was a real joy to partake of the Divine Service with our sister congregation and to take the body and blood of Christ from the hands of Vlad and Victor.

Afterwards, we move the furniture down the hall to the original room - which has since been vacated.  We head off to a park near Vlad and Svetlana's apartment building for a picnic.  And was it ever a picnic!

We walk a ways to the woods by way of a path.  Finding a suitable spot, Vlad and Victor assemble a small metal portable barbecue pit.  They make a charcoal fire and lay out huge chicken shish-kabobs on the flame.  It is my understanding that Deacon Victor used to be a chef, and he presides with aplomb over the burnt offering, fanning the flame with a plate and wielding a butcher knife.  He smiles, laughs, and cracks jokes - none of which I can understand.  The assembled congregation is relaxed and also laughs a great deal.  We sit on blankets around the fire in a small clearing.  Vlad and Victor are a good team and are obviously comfortable working together.  They were actually laymen together in a congregation in Ukraine in the more liberal ELKRAS church - but sought a more faithful expression of the faith among the Siberians.

We sit in a circle around the fire.  The weather is beautiful and provides a marvelous view of the birch forest.

The ladies prepare salads and drinks.  Sophia plays in the dirt with a stick.  Most of the conversation is, of course, in Russian.  Sophia is shy around me.  She has large precocious brown eyes and an expressive face.  I win her over with a gift - a little green, yellow, and purple cat from Mardi Gras.  She is also wearing a little Hello Kitty bracelet.  The gift is a hit, and she excitedly shows her mother who smiles warmly while thanking me.

We dine and converse, sitting on blankets until nearly sundown.

I distribute a few gifts: tee shirts, flashlights, some pocket knives inscribed with scripture from a member of my congregation who is a retired Navy Seal.  I present a little stuffed dog to Melissa - which Sofia also claims unto herself.  Afterwards, we say our goodbyes, and Vlad joins Dan, Sergey, Alexey, and myself for a brief tour of the city of Chelyabinsk as the sun begins to set.  Father Sergey is our driver.  We visit a massive cold-war era monument at the end of Lenin Street in honor of Igor Kurchatov, the father of the Soviet atomic bomb.  Serge quips that the monument's purpose is to get foreigners to take pictures.  We all have a laugh, and sure enough, Dan and I hustle out to take pictures.

A bunch of young people are hanging out nearby.  It's 11:00 pm on a Monday night, and a lot of people are still out and about.  The young people are amusing, as the guys are hanging out with each other, looking at one another's cars, while the girls likewise are clustered together, looking bored, dressed as if they are going to a wedding.

In honor of my desire to make a pilgrimage to the Molnija watch factory (I am carrying the watch I puchased on the internet in 2004 that was made by hand in Chelyabinsk at the factory founded by Stalin), father Vlad brings me to a large building aptly named куб (The Cube) - a shopping mall that used to be the Molnija watch factory until it closed in 2007.

We return to the hotel and say goodbye to Father Vlad.  He gives me a hat and a t-shirt of Chelyabinsk bearing the camel symbol of the city.  He presents Dan with a hand-towel also depicting Chelyabinsk.

Back at the hotel, I use Father Sergey's CD drive to rip my language instruction CDs into MP3s for my mini-computer.

Here is a link to all of my pictures of Day Twenty-Two.

My Siberian Adventure - Day 21 - July 17, 2011

Visit: Yekaterinburg

I woke up fairly late, got ready quickly.  Father Sergey is picking us up at 10:30 am for the 11:00 Divine Service - which will likely start somewhere around 11:15.

Before Sergey and Alexey arrive, Dan and I go to the 2nd floor of the hotel for the buffet breakfast again - which is similar to yesterday's offering, but with a little variation in the fare.  We notice that there are several families on vacation and a lot of English writing on t-shirts - especially among the children.

Sergey and Alexey pick us up.  We arrive at church.

Father Sergey is the celebrant, and Father Alexey Trapiznikov - whom I have not met before - assists.  Before the service, we are greeted by a visitor, a pastor from Canada who has a missionary ministry.  He serves the Association of Free Churches (I think this is the name of the church body), a Norwegian Pietist church that is, I believe, headquartered in Minneapolis.  It is a denomination that is both liturgically "low" and has a "low" view of the office of the holy ministry.  He has worked with Father Pavel (Zayakin) for many years, and the two are good friends and colleagues.  He is on his way to Abakan to assist with Father Pavel's Bible camp for young people.

He is dressed in civilian attire, and he tells us about his eclectic Lutheran background, having served congregations in both the LCMS and in the ELCIC.  he currently lives near Vancouver, and makes annual mission trips to Russia and India.

He ended up in the Free Church because of their particular brand of low-church conservatism.  His church body does not "ordain" women.  When we ask him what is his church body's view of the Lutheran confessions, he is unsure.  He is a very likable middle-aged man and is shadowed everywhere by his 30-ish Russian translator.

After our morning visit and tea, Father Sergey prepares for Mass.  He is a soft-spoken middle aged man with a kind face, a closely-cropped beard, and short dark hair that is starting to develop "salt and pepper."  As the celebrant, he is clearly in charge.  Not typical for the services is Father Alexey (Streltsov) snapping pictures on his Nikon.  Father Alexey (Trapiznikov) preaches the sermon and serves liturgically as the deacon.

The communion rail only accommodates two communicants at a time, and the pastors only have room to scoot sideways between rail and altar to distribute the Holy Sacrament.  The church furniture originally came from the fist seminary in Novosibirsk.

After Mass, we retire to the kitchen for tea and cookies.  In deference to my caffeine addiction and shortfall, Father Sergey presents me with a day-glow yellow half-liter bottle of Mountain Dew with a rascally smile on his face.

We all pose for a group picture in the sanctuary - except of course, Father Alexey, our photographer.

Sergey and Alexey bring us to the hotel to check out and then bring us back to the church flat.  They go off for a while.  While waiting for them to return, I look out the window and journal.  It is warm and sunny outside, about 80F.

It looks very much like an American scene outside - with a few differences.  A young girl is walking a dalmatian, who would just as soon stay put under a tree.  She has to coax him to go.  Two babushkas (elderly ladies) walk together down the street clad in their "uniform" of flowery dresses and head scarves.  Two middle-aged women walk together with what appears to be a dachshund/beagle mix.  Two younger guys are checking out a car - perhaps to buy.  One of them is smoking a cigarette.

 Cars zip down the highway that is maybe a quarter mile (if that) from the flat.  The building across the street has typical enclosed balconies with clothes hanging outside.  Some people are on foot bearing plastic grocery bags.

Tired looking Latas (a Russian domestic automobile) roll by in sharp contrast to the more modern-looking imports - mainly Toyotas brought in directly from Japan, as evidenced by the steering wheel placement on the right.

Summers are very short here, and I get the impression that people make the most of their warm season.  Like my family members in Ottawa, they experience about six months of winter - with short days, reaching a peak of sunrise at about 10:00 am and sunset at about 4:00 pm.

Fathers Alexey and Sergey return and pick us up.  We are headed to lunch somewhere in Yekaterinburg.  Dan reads Crime and Punishment on his Kindle.  Alexey and Sergey converse intensely in Russian.  I'm getting a little road-weary.  I'm also quite homesick and looking forward to getting home.  Today is Miss Grace's birthday, but it's only 4 am back home.  Maybe I'll be able to get on an Internet connection some time today.  Otherwise, I'll ask Dan for his phone and fire off a text message to my dear wife.

Our drive takes us to a large event called the Technology Expo at Yekaterinburg - held in a huge convention center.  Parking and admission are free.  It is really incredible!

On the way in, we have to pass security.  The guard laughs at me good-naturedly as I have to deal with my crucifix, pocket watch, Palm device, pocket knife, and all sorts of coins, etc.  Unlike in the U.S., my small Swiss Army knife was not a problem.  I scramble to gather all of my things as my companions also have a laugh.

We ate lunch there, traditional Russian fare: salad (tomatoes and cucumbers), bread, pelmini (dumplings) and coffee/tea.  I took a chance on the instant coffee, as the brand name suggested it might be some kind of espresso.  It was a mistake.  I should have gone with the tea.  But the rest of the meal was nice.

We spent a good bit of time at the show.  We took a lot of pictures.

Father Alexey eplained that by air, Yekaterinburg is six hours from both London and Beijing.  The movers and shakers of Y-burg are trying to position the city as a business hub, an alternative destination at which to meet halfway.  Alexey is skeptical.  Russian president Vladimir Putin is very much pushing "nanotechnology" and Russians teasingly refer to him as the nano-president ("little president").  There is a girl at the show who wears what seems to be a red latex suit consisting of a skimpy top, short-shorts (also latex?) with the word "NANO" written in western letters on the bum.  The outfit was completed by her towering high heels.  It's quite a tableau.

There are also a couple of girls in day-glow green leotards advertising a bank.  They look a bit like the way C.S. Lewis portrayed the blue woman in his science-fiction novel Perelandra.  Father Daniel suggests that I get a picture.  Since my new policy is not to automatically say "no" and not hide behind my being an introvert - especially as a non-Russian-speaking foreigner - I walk up to them and motion to my camera asking: "Фото пожалуйста?"  They insist on including me in the picture.  They are fluent in English and are interested as to where Dan and I come from.  They are very good sports.

In the middle of the exhibit there is a huge, detailed model of the city of Yekaterinburg.  There is a section devoted to various businesses in Chelyabinsk.  There is even a booth selling Christian icons - which would have been unheard of twenty years ago. The place is crowded with people of every age group.  The most amusing to watch are the young couples.  Almost inevitably, the guys are quite casual - if not bordering on slovenly - while their wives or girlfriends are dressed to the nines.  It is so common as to be a cliché.

I buy a coffee mug on the way out that epitomizes Alexey's critique of many politicians' vision of modern Russia.  The mug had a tribute to Russia on one side, and another to the USSR on the other.  The caption reads (in Russian) "One History, One Country."  It is the view of those who see modern Russia as simply a reconstituted Soviet Union.  We go outside where there there are various trucks and heavy equipment - including a high-tech helicopter.

Afterwards, we drive downtown for some sightseeing.

In front of the main administrative building is a statue of - who else? - Lenin.  Father Alexey directs our attention to the top of the Soviet-style administration building complete with statues of triumphant workers and stars and other garish Soviet symbolism.  But Father Daniel is not with us.  I turn around to see him chatting with a group of young people who are sitting on the base of the Lenin statue.  I figure Dan is fielding questions about the United States or helping young people practice English.  I take a picture as Dan calls me over.

The college-age students hail from Spain, Ukraine, the Czech Republic, Poland, and Russia.  They are loud, gregarious, and friendly.  They all speak very good English, and are respectful.  We chat a little about where we come from.  One of the guys jots down his e-mail address so I can send him the pictures.

Father Sergey tells us a funny story about the Lenin statue.  Down the avenue are statues of Sverdlov and Kirov - two other Bolsheviks.  They seem to be pointing to Lenin.  The joke is that they are asking Lenin where he got his nice coat, and Lenin in turn is pointing at the shopping center across the street.

We went to that shopping center, which is located on a beautiful brick pedestrian mall.  We stroll along the walkway in the sun and chat.  We go inside and up the escalators to the 5th floor of the mall where there is a small food court.

There we find a restaurant called Hot American Pizza, a pelmini place, a more traditional Russian lunch establishment, and a (believe it or not) dessert place called Cherry Berry (back home we frequent a frozen yogurt shop of the same name).

Dan and I order pizza - of which Alexey quips is actually neither hot nor American.  Sergey gets the Russian food, and Alexey opts for the Pelmini.

We eat our "hot American pizza" in the capitalist mall as we look out the window to see Lenin pointing at us.  It is surreal and ironic.  Lenin seems so lost, so anachronistic and defeated, though his body is frozen in his usual triumphalistic pose.  From our view we see a good sized crater behind a fence.  It is filled with water.  Alexey explains that in Soviet times, it was a public toilet.  He said that it was free.  I remarked: "It still is" to the great amusement of my Russian brothers.  I think my attitude for Big Government and natural inclination to make fun of the state dovetails nicely with the post-Soviet sense of humor about the USSR.

From, we see a sign on the wall that is missing a letter.  I ask Father Alexey about it.  It says ССС-.  The last letter has been torn off.  Alexey confirms that indeed the now-truant final letter was a Р - the Russian R.  This was the sign for the now-defunct "USSR Cafe" - but the R has been taken away.  The word Кафе remains though.  More symbolic irony.

We visit a bookstore, a sort-of Russian version of Barnes and Noble.  They have a small English language section of books in English - some paperback classics.  They also have a section for learning Russian.  I buy a Random House course with 40 lessons, a book and 3 CDs.  I also pick up a phrasebook with CD for half the cost back home.

Father Daniel buys a beautiful political map of Russia.  Alexey picks up a few books.  Pastors are seldom as happy as when they are in bookstores.  I wandered off to buy some souvenirs.  My inability to communicate is a profound frustration.  The clerks are patient and kind, and they treat me like a child counting my coins for me and taking them from my outstretched hand.  I do know how to apologize and indicate to them that I don't know Russian.

On the way out, I see a 3D book with a jumping spider on it.  It includes a 3D viewer with various stereoscopic photos of bugs and spiders.  It costs the equivalent of $10 U.S.  Of course, I have to buy it for Leo.  My Visa card is declined - which Dan suggests is a safety feature because I had just used it a few minutes ago.  I pay cash.

We continue our stroll.  The architecture is western, modern, and beautiful - in some cases even opulent.

Father Sergey goes back to the car and meets us at the other end of the pedestrian mall.  Sergey and Alexey drop us back off at the church flat.  Dan and I venture out for a stroll and end up back at the beer tent.  We order a couple beers.

This time, I have my phrase book and dictionary.  With these tools, Dan and I set out to figure out the menu.  I call over to our waiter whose name is Ильхом (Ilichom?) - who is probably Kazakhstani.  He remembers us from before.  This time I use the phrase book to order in Russian.

He is amused and asks to see the phrase book.  He uses the book to ask me how much the phrasebook costs.  He is looking at the English section.  We all have a good laugh.  I took a couple pictures with him and the phrasebook.

I pay for our meal in cash, and Dan picks up the tip.  We head back to the flat.  I have trouble getting to sleep.

Here is a link to all of my pictures of Day Twenty One.

My Siberian Adventure - Day 20 - July 16, 2011

Visit: Yekaterinburg

Father Daniel and I slept in a bit and went to the hotel's breakfast.  It was a very western buffet meal that included sausage, rice, cream of wheat (which looked not unlike grits and jambalaya), also bread and a hard-boiled egg.  I also had a coffee with milk.  There is a TV on in the dining room which has what seems to be a 24-hour news channel tuned on.

Father Sergey picked us up and drove us the short distance to the church.

We met several people - including Deacon Victor Shtraube (from Chelyabinsk) and his expecting wife!  I spoke with a young layman about 25-years old or so.  He speaks English though not fluently.  His name is Vadim, and he lives in Siberia in the city of Kurgan between Yekaterinburg and Omsk.

He's a member of Father Sergey's parish (Sts. Peter and Paul) and has a 6-hour bus commute to attend church on Sunday.  His parents are atheists, though his grandmother was Russian Orthodox.  He had been baptized in the Russian Orthodox Church, but was never able to understand the liturgy because of the language barrier (Russian Orthodox liturgies are not conducted in Russian, but rather in Old Slavonic).  He stumbled upon a children's Bible, and that set him on the course to become a Lutheran.

I have a cup of tea.  Father Sergey shows up with a half-liter bottle of Mountain Dew for me.  My Russian brothers are sensitive to my caffeine addiction, and they genuinely care about my comfort.

We have a brief prayer service along the lines of Daily Prayer according to our Lutheran Service Book (LSB) hymnal.  Father Sergey is dignified as he leads prayer.  I'm seated in one of the small pews next to an older woman wearing a head scarf.

I believe my friend Vladimir (see page one of this Siberian Lutheran Mission Society newsletter, "A Lutheran Soul") - who speaks very good French - has arrived.  Father Daniel has begun his lecture.  We will have two hours each today.

After an hour, we take a break.  I met Vladimir, and gave him a small gift: a fridge magnet from New Orleans which has some French on it.  I explain to him that le français est une langue officielle d'état de la Louisiane, et il y a beaucoup de personnes qui parle français dans notre état (French is an official language of the State of Louisiana, and there are many people who speak French in our state).  We chat back and forth in French, as I am certain that I've butched the language.  I am, however, amazed at how much I am able to understand as Vladimir speaks, though my own spoken French is terribly rusty.  I think being immersed in a non-English environment has stimulated the linguistic part of my brain (then again, maybe it was the Mountain Dew...).  Vladimir is quite fluent and enjoys speaking French as much as I enjoy hearing it.

In fact, it feels good - liberating, actually, to be able to speak in another lingua franca of the world, to be enjoying conversation with Vladmir in a language that is native to neither one of us, with neither one of us relying on a translator.  As we chat, we are speaking with more rapidity.  It's a great encouragement to grow in understanding and fluency in multiple languages.

After Dan concludes his lecture, we speak to the lady sitting next to me (our translator, as I will learn later, is Evgeny, a young guy who has only been speaking English for about a year and a half).  Her grandfather was a Lutheran pastor who was executed by Stalin.  He had served in the Volga region.  As a young woman, she wished to go to medical school, but was not permitted to study because her grandfather had been condemned as an "enemy of the state."  She was mocked as a student because of her Christian faith, which she retained even after all that her family had suffered.  I asked her to write her name for me, and she wrote in my little notebook "Альвина" - the letters of which I could not read very well in their cursive form.  Father Alexey later rendered this into Latin letters for me as "Alvina."  She is more commonly known by the diminutive form "Ала" ("Ala").  The German form of her name is "Albina" - and although I did not make the connection at the time, the Siberian Lutheran Mission Society had run a fascinating three part article telling Albina's story - which you can read here: Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.

It was a great honor to have my picture taken with Albina.

Father Alexey gives his lecture on Romans.  We break for lunch, and a large group of us walks over to the Cafe Dadazh (where we went yesterday) - where we have a very typical Russian "business lunch" with a bit of Asian influence, consisting of salad, soup, and a main dish of chicken and rice.  We also drink a peach soda - shared by the four of us at our table - served in very small glasses - and we finish with tea.  The salad is dry (in a good way).  No glop.  The soup has some kind of seafood or fish in it.  It reminds me of New Orleans.  I'm seated with Father Alexey, Vladimir, Vadim, and another young guy named Evgeny (who previously served as my impromptu translator in my chat with Albina).  It turns out that he is a 4th year Orthodox seminarian.

After lunch, Father Alexey concludes his lecture.

I begin my Augsburg Confession lecture at about 4:00 pm and go on until about 6:00 with a break after about an hour.  My listeners seem engaged - especially Evgeny.  I cover the history part and I get through Article 8.

When I field questions, one attendee raised the question of the validity of a baptism conducted by a woman "pastor."  I answered that my pastoral practice is to treat such "baptisms" as outside the church.  One ELKRAS attendee (ELKRAS is the German missionary denomination in Russia, a more liberal body that "ordains" women), a young pastor named Dennis, became quite agitated.  I calmly confessed what I believe and what my pastoral practice is.

I was a little concerned, not wanting to offend my hosts, but Father Alexey assured me that my answer is actually the same answer as the position of the SELC.  To make things more interesting, we will be traveling to Dennis's congregation to speak to them on Tuesday evening.

Afterward, Fathers Alexey and Sergey take Dan and me to McDonald's.  It looks similar to its American cousin, only with Cyrillic letters.  Russia has similar language laws as Quebec, and this regulates the amount of English that can be used on signage.  I don't know how Traveler's Coffee gets around this.  The McDonald's sign looks like this: Макдоналдс - a direct transliteration.  I order the equivalent of a Quarter Pounder, known is Russia as a Royal Cheeseburger (Роял Чизбургер).  In Russia, you have to pay extra for condiments.  Dan and I both order "large" drinks.  The clerk says something in response to Father Alexey, who looks at me gravely and says: "Uh, Father Larry, he says that the large drink is a liter."  Of course, this is considerably smaller than the large in the U.S. (which explains why Americans are considerably larger than Russians).  Father Daniel and I, unfazed by the liter, laugh and confirm our order with Alexey.  Also, there are no ice in the drinks.  I never saw an ice machine in my time in Russia.  I also believe one of the staff was scolding me for taking pictures.

The four of us (Dan, Alexey, Sergey, and I) go outside to eat under one of the red and yellow umbrellas.

Next, we make an excursion to the "Alcohol Supermarket" subtitled: "Magnum" where Dan shops for cognac - which is of very high quality and considerably cheaper than in the states.  He has promised to bring back a bottle for a fellow pastor back home.

Afterward, our Russian brothers drop us off back at the hotel.

Dan would like to buy another bottle of Armenian cognac (Ararat brand), and I need some batteries.  We stroll around, find a supermarket, make ou purchases using a combination of gestures and pidgin Russian.  The clerks are helpful and friendly.  Dan buys a bottle of Ararat, and I purchase a small bottle of "Мохито" (mojito).  Dan forgets to buy himself a beer, and the store has no AA batteries.

We walk back.

We see a funny sight: a drunken man carrying a bottle in one hand, and in the other hand he holds a cellphone to his ear.  Paying no attention to his surroundings, he crosses the busy highway, chatting and swaying between the zooming cars.  It looks staged.  The traffic doesn't even slow down.  He staggers at a steady pace completely absorbed in his phone call.  Somehow, he arrives untouched at the other side without missing a beat, talking in his cell the entire time.

We visit a little kiosk where a customer can bring an empty beer bottle and the clerk will fill it with any beer that they have on tap, charging by the amount.

It's now well after ten, but the sky is still bright.  We stroll back to the hotel.  I enjoy an extended chat with Grace and upload pictures.  Our room in the Atlantic Hotel has a large and deep bathtub, so I indulge in a steaming hot bath.  My knees get sore sometimes, so the soak feels very good.

Photo: http://www.rushotels.com/hotel/1126

Here is a link to all of my pictures of Day Twenty.