Has it been a month yet?

The days here in Pasadena go by slowly. This is not to say that I am miserably lonely--quite the opposite. Rather, so much is packed into each day that, when evening comes, you have to remind yourself that it has not been a week since you arrived--only 24 hours. I am learning how to do this thing that they call "teaching." I am not quite sure how I got myself into all this; surely no one explained it to me thoroughly before I got on that first plane. Suddenly I find myself worrying about how I will explain the differences between pair, pare and pear. I fall asleep at night running through word games and 7 different ways to go about listening techniques.

I am also learning what I am going to be up against in the Czech. Here are the facts: Population: 10.3 million. Atheism: 60%. Prostitutes: numbering anywhere from 10,000 to 30,000. Government: corrupt and constantly changing. (Officially: something called "bi-cambral parliamentary democracy. I know the definition of perhaps one of those words.)

Still, I am not a numbers person. The percentages are interesting, but this is also how stereotypes and generalizations are made. What hits home for me are the personal stories from the alum teachers. I am sure I will have many hard stories of my own before the year is up, but the stories of 12-year-old girls standing along the roadside "for sale" and the young woman who ended up in a brothel after accepting Christ only a year ago are hard to handle, even as I still sit here in care-free California (air-conditioned, of course).

We read an article in one of my sessions on how religion is viewed in the Czech. It is not surprising to read about the enormous decline; all of Europe has followed a similar route over the centuries. But what makes you turn your head is this line: "The Czechs say they're the most atheist country in Europe, and they say it with some pride... This is how Western civilization may look in 50 years, because people here believe they live a full life without any religion." And later: "There is a sense of emptiness, but not despair." Emptiness, but not despair? The sentence was written to give off a positive point, but I see the opposite. If one is despairing, one is searching for another answer, because life as it is now is unbearable. But if one is merely empty, there is nothing. This state is worse than dead--it is neither dead nor alive. There is no feeling, no searching, no hope; so many Czechs have grown so used to this 'despair' that it is normal and expected, and so it becomes accepted.

These are facts from witnesses, but I hope to God that this is not so. It is good to learn what to expect, while we are there, but I do not want to expect this. I am not sure I could bear to look into the eyes of a young national to find nothing there--not even despair.