Giant Jesus

Anonymous Today I had the marvelous opportunity to visit the Daphni monastery and stand on scaffolding mere feet away from the face of its Christ pantokrator mosaic. It was breathtaking. There is no way to do justice to standing in semi-darkness under an 11th century giant, mosaic Jesus. Awe-some. The day also included various adventures involving public transportation, elderly Greek church ladies, closed/not closed monasteries, "expensive" gifts, and Greek pizza. It also included a lot of laughs. I attribute this to two reasons: the first is, that, when faced with insurmountable odds (or just minor inconveniences) the best thing to do is laugh. Can't understand the elderly ladies arguing over how to get to where you want to go? Laugh. Unsure if the bus is ever coming? Laugh. Discover the monastery you have been struggling to find is closed? Laugh. Discover it is really open? Smile and laugh. Crouch down to hide the fact that you are the fifth person in a four-passenger taxi? Laugh. The second reason, is, quite frankly, that it feels good to laugh, and sometimes it is good to be goofy.
People who spend a reasonable amount of time with me usually consider me to be a serious person. People who spend an inordinate amount of time with me discover that even I have to let the silliness leak through (usually in the form of obscure Nacho Libre references or unnecessary sound effects while walking) occasionally. Today I felt, in addition to over-awed at Giant Jesus, a little bit goofy... and it felt good. While sometimes it can be lonelier to be with a whole group of new people you haven't yet gotten to know, it can also be refreshing. Expectations are off, or at least different, and you can make of them what you will.
Everyone knows it... people know you differently in different contexts. Your friends from high school know a slightly different 'you' from your teammates, who know a slightly different 'you' from your coworkers, who know a slightly different 'you' from your roommates. If I may be so bold as to say so, I think this is true for Jesus too. The more I study the Gospels and the Christian traditions, the more I am amazed at the many ways that you can 'read' Jesus. I recognize that not everyone might agree with me, but in my experience, context makes all the difference. There are a multitude of ways in which people 'know' Jesus, and the scholar (not to mention the believer) is presented with a variety of possible portraits. In the Gospels alone can be found (at least) four slightly (or sometimes more than slightly) different takes on Jesus. Whether you find this frustrating or enlightening, it makes some sense: we are multi-faceted people.

This is not Giant Jesus, but another fine example of a (smaller) mosaic Jesus.

For this reason it is nice to be reminded that who we really are consists of more than the image other people have of us; that there is more to us than what others have come to expect. I, for example, am a serious student, and often a serious person. But I am not only a serious person; I can also be goofy. There are pieces of my identity that people sometimes don't suspect, and each time they are revealed I am both pleased and a little annoyed at their surprise. Pleased that I am no longer a prisoner to their incomplete image of me, a little annoyed that they held that image less flexibly in the first place. Not that anyone is to blame; expectations are part and parcel of how we order the world, but frustrated by the fact that people do not always fit our categories.
Just as there is Athena the wise, Athena the virgin, and Athena the victorious, and in the gospels you can find Jesus the healer, Jesus the preacher, Jesus the social revolutionary, and more; there is also Jessica the serious, Jessica the silly, Jessica the thoughtful, Jessica the adventurous, Jessica the home-body, Jessica the religion major, Jessica the black belt, Jessica the sailor, Jessica the Bainbridge islander, Jessica the lute, and more.

Today I was reminded that identity is a complex composite of many things. Our class categories (Gender, Nationality, Race, Religion, Self-Sacrifice, Mortality, and Social Justice) are a good start, but by no means exhaustive. Identity is like a puzzle, except some pieces are bigger than others, some are brighter colors, some are only occasionally present, and some are invisible, even to ourselves. And the context in which we look at that puzzle greatly affects the way we understand it. Pictures of Giant Jesus often give the impression of Angry Jesus, but perhaps, once again, context is to blame. Giant Jesus in the picture might look angry, but Giant Jesus a few feet from your head looks freakin' awesome (once again, in the true sense of the word).

Dinner

Anonymous Over the last two days I have seen many impressive archeological finds, beautiful sculptures and ancient ruins. I have also marveled at a sunset over the Mediterranean, successfully navigated foreign public transportation, and taken long walks through the city at night. But I have to say that the highlight of both days was something much more mundane, and yet, at the same time, not: dinner. I'm not just talking about the food, though it was good. And it wasn't the effects of the wine, I didn't have more than a glass. Good food and good wine can indeed be the makings of a great meal, but these ones had something more; two magical ingredients: people and place. Picture this: a large table filled with friends, and not just any friends, but people that not that long ago you didn't even know, but know you do, and are so glad. Live music, two older Greek men on stringed instruments and a woman on a tambourine. Two free bottles of wine... Or instead, picture this: an outdoor table on the corner of a happening pedestrian thoroughfare, a heater, a view of the Acropolis lit up at night, and the sound of laughter, because some things are just more fun with friends. (Like giant beans... ;) The food was good, the wine was nice, and the place was singular... but the people made the night.

Many views of Athens

Anonymous It seems that everywhere I turn there is a new view of Athens, a new aspect of Greek culture. Yesterday our large group ventured out into the Plaka district of shops, restaurants and cafes once more. And even though we have already walked through the Plaka a few times, we came across new side streets and new adventures.

After our tour of the Plaka, many of our group decided to go out for the night. About a thirty minute walk up the main road is the Irish Pub we chose to visit. The pub had Karaoke available and a few of us got up on stage to perform. The pub provided yet another aspect of Athenian culture to experience and take part in. This adventure showed me a more lively side of the night life than I had been experiencing in the cafes.

Today it rained for the first time on our visit to Athens and I saw a more quiet and reserved side of the city when I ventured out with a few members of the group to get dinner. And after returning from seeing this new aspect of Athens, the entire class ventured up to the top of a hill that looks out over all of Athens. The view from the top was breath taking and gave me yet another way to see the city and the culture.

Globalization

Anonymous Well, I was sitting there in my Greek kitchen thinking "I should blog, I'm not going to want to do it later,"and waiting for some mantic wisdom, when I looked down at my bowl of cheerios and heard a voice. It said "globalization..." I mean, really, how many ads have I seen for Ikea or Cinnebon? They look the same as they do at home, except in Greek. I walk through the grocery store and I can buy Dove shampoo, venus razors, and V-8. If I wanted to, I could go to McDonald's, Subway or Starbucks. I could almost pretend I was home... almost. I guess there is something comforting about same-ness. It's predictable, familiar. Even the very phenomenon of same-ness is familiar to me, living in the U.S. At home, I know I can go to Starbucks, whether I'm in Seattle or San Francisco, Las Vegas or Lynnwood, and get a coffee that will be almost exactly the same. It's comforting and convenient but... at what cost? Here in Greece, I can walk down the street and buy the same made-in-China items I can at home, and while all those familiar products might be comforting to an American, I can't help but wonder if they look different to a Greek... if, rather than comforting, they might seem... intrusive? Despite the evidence of multi-national corporations and pervasive marketing strategies, here in Greece uniqueness still seems to have a hold. As someone pointed out to me today, you can go to the same café and get a different coffee every day, unique to the barista on duty. It seems ironic that such an individualistic society such as the one I come from should seek to impose such same-ness upon the world around it. Perhaps it is precisely because we are so individualistic that we are forced to look for familiarity in the objects, rather than the people, around us. Many of us have noted how much more personal Greek culture appears to us; how much more focused on building relationships and making and keeping connections. Maybe it wouldn't matter to me so much that my latté be just so, if I enjoyed it in the company of friends. I mean, even my dad... coffee connoisseur... has been willing to drink sub-par coffee at my favorite bakery because it meant he got to sit and chat with me. :)