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After what seems like an eternity, the guy that he had talked to came back with the papers in his hand and asked “Where is medicine?” The policeman began to rummage around in the trunk. The medicines were all in German packages so he could not read much, before long they had emptied the trunk, taken his bag and emptied it on the hood of the car and were searching the passenger compartment. Scott could do nothing but wait watch and pray. He prayed against fear most of all. He remembered Jesus’ words, “Greater is he that is within you than he that is within the world” “Lord,” he prayed, “give me the strength to not appear fearful, please don’t let the Enemy prey on my fear, please give me an additional dose of the fruit of self control I need in this situation.”
The vehicle search was complete. They handed Scott his papers and phone, said good bye and left. Just like that. Scott watched them drive away and then realized that the contents of the car were all over the sidewalk. He began to load his personal stuff first and threw it into the passenger seat and then reloaded the medical supplies. When he was finished he got in the car and turned on the phone, there was a new SMS from Marton, “Don’t stop in Beograd!”
“Yeah, I guess” he said aloud.
He got in the car and drove out of Beograd at the speed limit.
At three o’clock Scott came into Kovin. The day was waning and he needed to find the camp before dark. As he drove through town he noted a hotel that actually had the word Hotel in English, he noted it but thought it odd for a town like this to have a hotel with an English sign, but then who knows? His fuel gauge was near empty so he pulled into the town filling station and told the attendant to give him 40 liters. The custom is to tell them how many liters you want and then to go pay. They pump the gas and look your car over for you.
Very loud European techno blasted from a television in a corner near the counter. A girl in her twenties was reading a magazine. The store was hot inside and she was dressed like it was summer.
“Forty liters and this” he said to her placing a coke and a sandwich on the counter.
“You English?” she asked.
“American.” was the reply “Do you know where the refugee camp is here?”
“Yes, go down this road ten kilometers and you will see it on the left, old Army camp, Dinars.”
“Where did you learn such good English?” handing her 100.
“American students used to teach in my home town, then I learn from MTV and Cartoon Network” pointing to the satellite dish outside,” She handed him the change.
“I see,” he smiled “keep studying, thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” and she turned back to her magazine.
Outside, the car was ready, he put his lunch in the passenger seat and drove off.
Turning right from the gas station he headed down the road as the clerk directed him. When he checked the road to his left he noticed a car with two guys who seemed to be watching him. As he straightened out on the road, he looked in the mirror as he reached for his Coke and saw them pull out behind him. It only took ten minutes to get to the camp but he must have checked his mirror a dozen times to make sure they were still there. They were. When he arrived at the camp, he didn’t signal, he didn’t slow down much either, he just pulled into the driveway and kept going until he arrived at the gate. The car passed by slowly; the passenger was taking a picture.
The guard came out to meet him. He asked Scott for his papers and his purpose for being there. Scott told him that he was bringing medicine and handed him his passport. He got out and opened the trunk, the guard saw the trunk, radioed something and told Scott to close the trunk and wait in the car.
In a few moments a woman came walking down the road. She introduced herself to Scott as the social worker on duty her name was Sara. She was a Brit working for the government. This camp she explained was one of many in this part of Europe funded and overseen by the UNHCR (United Nations High Commission for Refugees). She got in and told Scott to drive up the hill.
“I am familiar with this type of camp, there are several in Hungary with residents from all over the world wait for entry to the EU.”
“Yes,” she said “but our camp is different, we have only ethnic Hungarians here who have fled the central part of Serbia for fear of retaliation by the Serbs like that of the nineties against the Kosavars. The Serbs will not let them go to Hungary and they will not let them go to Vojvodina either.”
They were approaching the crest of a hill.
“How are conditions?”
“See for yourself” she replied as they topped the hill and Scott saw what was once a Serbian Army camp turned into a refugee facility. Single story concrete prefab buildings stretched from the top of the hill down to the edge of the forest which was certainly two kilometers away and the width of the camp was nearly as wide. Scott stopped the car and took it all in.
“There are twenty-three buildings with as many as twenty-five people in each building.“
Scott just sat there for a moment taking it all in. The sun was setting at their back and the lights of the camp were becoming more prominent in the encroaching dusk.
“Let’s take these supplies to the clinic, we’ve been expecting you all day.”
“Yeah, it’s been a long one, busy too.”
“Will you stay here tonight?” She asked, “There are spare beds and a shower in the male guard dorm near the clinic.”
“That would be great. I’ve not slept in a couple of days and could use a good night’s sleep.”
“That’s settled then, I’ll ask that you get the duty officer’s room so that you will not be awakened.”
“Thank You”
They arrived at the clinic and as soon as they pulled up there were four teenagers waiting to unload the trunk. Scott opened the trunk; the boys unloaded, Sara had his bag and indicated for him to follow her. Someone would take care of the car. She took him to the officer of the day, another Brit named Clive. Clive got him set up for the night. Scott showered and shaved, when he finished someone had left a plate of food that he couldn’t exactly identify and a warm beer, he thanked God nonetheless, ate, said prayers and within fifteen minutes was sound asleep, it was just after seven pm.
Sometime during the night, unknown to Scott, there was a visitor who looked through his bag and examined his papers. Scott slept soundly and never knew of this visitation.

the next episode

over on my course blog, i posted this very basic idea

Here are some resources that I am using to try to learn about this topic:

Oxford Dictionary of Philosophy (details forthcoming)
Cambridge Dictionary of Philosophy (details forthcoming)

While standing in the philosophy section of Barnes and Noble, I was looking through these volumes. I bought these to update my library and found myself following the “links”and reading scores of articles about the terms, times and people of postmodernism, my journey began in earnest. And while I like to visit Cambridge more that Oxford each spring, I like the Oxford dictionary better.

“Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy” (on line)
When you print this article on postmodernism, it is fifteen pages long, so don’t kill too many trees (did I really just write that?) I have not, to be honest read the article word for word. But in scanning it I saw many of the same points, yet in more detail than in my earlier reading, as the dictionaries. The click to the article pays of with the first sentence.

“Postmodernity and Theology” in Christian Theology by Millard Erikson, Baker, 2nd Ed. 1997
This is the second edition of the text I used (1st ed.) in seminary and have used over and again. When Laci asked me to get it for him last year, I noticed the new chapter on postmodernity. I recently read this chapter and found it helpful as Erickson gives a thorough but concise survey of modernism which is really essential to understand that which postmodernism is against, anti, after…

“The Vanished Horizion” in The Universe Next Door by James Sire, IVP, 1997
After having read several pieces, I was ready for this. Sire is thick and puts a lot on a page. But he presents the material in such a way that one can see the progression from what was to what is now. Some of his arguments at the end of the chapter seem a bit pat, but… they seem to work too… very helpful to me in synthesizing much of the material I had already read.

The Last Word by N. T. Wright, HarperSanFrancisco 2005
Since authority and knowledge and truth are such important topics in this realm of inquiry, I suggest the follower of Christ read this book. Wright gives an interesting perspective on the authority of Scripture and how it must be understood in context of both the time it was written and the time it is read.

Paul by N. T. Wright, Fortress Press, Mineapolis, 2005
Apparantly to some, this is a controversial volume, but I’ve thought it helpful, there is just a little within that is applicable to this conversation in “Jesus, paul and the Task of the Church” where Wright draws us a picture of how the church should act and work in the face of the changing culture?

well, my work is with post moderns… several, maybe most of my colleagues are too… so a dialogue between texts and people who are post modern may prove helpful to an old modernist like me

this blog will be a conversation about serving post moderns… it will investigate post modernity and those who think according to it to the end that they may be understood better and therefor, served with the gospel

Day Two
(didn’t read the first installment? click here )

After driving what seemed hours and hours, at six-thirty five, Scott exited from the highway and pulled around behind a boarded up store. He pointed the car in what he thought was east and parked. It had taken him much longer to cover the ground because of the line in Novi-Sad, they were still short on bridges across the Danube from the ‘99 war. He checked to make sure there were no others signs of life nearby, leaned the seat back, covered up with a blanket that was in the back seat, turned off the engine and immediately went to sleep.
The sun was shining in his eyes and woke him up. He looked at his watch: 8:45. He checked the phone for an SMS. He reached in his bag and pulled out the auto adapter, plugging it into the cigarette lighter. Chilled, he started the car. The phone came to life as soon as it was plugged in, there were two SMS messages, one from the phone company welcoming him to their territory and telling him how to make a roaming call. The other was from ‘withheld’ again. It was sent at eight o’clock.
‘Go to Beograd, find rd to Pancevo, in P. turn rt, go to Kovin. If stopped, tell them you delvr. med supply to refuges, in boot. In Kvn, ask for ref camp. GBU, – Marton’
It always took him a couple of minutes to figure out the SMS shorthand. He got out, stretched, and wished for coffee. Got in the car and drove toward city. Hunger reminded him that he had eaten early the day before and he looked for a café bar in the city. Just after turning on the road to Pancevo he found what he was looking for. He parked the car up the street from a café-bar and went to get coffee and, he hoped, some food. But before he went in he realized he had no Dinars. He looked around and wondered if any ATMs still worked here since the uproar. He saw a sign two blocks down that had BANC in roman letters. He walked toward it hoping to either use a machine or make an exchange. The streets were busy. Many women wore scarves, especially the older ones, as one would expect in an orthodox community. Some of the men wore hats like he had seen in Ukraine in winter. Seeing the hats made him think of his friends in Kyiv, he said a prayer for them. Suddenly he realized he should get out his prayer book and read today’s scriptures. At the bank, there was no ATM he went inside. He asked the woman inside if there was a cash machine nearby. She replied “In Beograd today it is impossible, three months ago, okay, now it is impossible, I change money if you want.”
“Can you change Forints?” he asked
“No Forints, only Dollar or Euro, you have dollars?”
He didn’t want to part with his dollars so soon but decided his hunger was at work on him so he changed $100 into Dinars and headed back to the car. At the car, he grabbed his prayer book and headed for the café. It was very cold but he remembered what Marton had told him about the stocking cap and left it in his pocket. There was a steady breeze that made it feel even colder. Inside the café he was pleased to find not only coffee but cappuccino and there were even pastries, which surprised him since it was now ten-thirty. Because it was fairly dark he chose a table near the window, sat down, thanked God and began to read and enjoy his breakfast. He was the only person in the café and was glad of it. He purposely meditated on Psalm 46 from the old King James: “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea; Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof. Selah.”
About twenty minutes passed and he noticed a commotion outside, a military convoy was passing through and it seemed everyone within walking distance was on the street some watching, a few clapping as the military vehicles passed through into the main part of the capital. He paid and stepped outside. Looking up the street toward the car, he noticed that there were four police peering into the windows. One was talking into a radio; it looked like he was reading the license tag. Another was on a cell phone talking to a boy who was pointing down the street at Scott.
Scott froze, he didn’t know quite what to do, of course doing nothing is doing something and in this case standing dumbfounded was better that taking off. One of the police began walking at a rapid pace toward him so Scott just stood there. When he was closer the policeman said something to him in slightly raised voice but not quite a yell. Of course Scott had no idea what he was being asked so he just walked toward him. When he saw this, the policeman slowed down and said something else to him. Scott walked up to him and said, “Serb nyet, A-meri-kan, do you speak English?”
“I speak only small, why you here?” was the abrupt reply which was followed with a question, “you car?” pointing to the Kia.
“Yes, er… da”
“You come,” motioning for Scott to walk to the car “why you here, Beograd?”
“I am taking medicine to refugees in, er…” He had forgotten the name of the next town. “I have paper in the car.” He drew a paper in the air and made a writing motion on it with his finger.” The police didn’t stop him but didn’t quite seem to understand either. Scott sat down in the passenger seat and got his passport, international driver’s license and registration and handed them to the officer. He looked at the passport, then to Scott, then back to the passport, back to Scott and then began looking through the passport at the different stamps and visas. The other three just looked on; one of them was still holding his mobile phone to his ear. Across the street a crowd was gathering. The boy that pointed to Scott and the bank teller were in the front of the crowd. One of the police walked over to her and began to talk. She pointed up the street to the bank and then to the car and to the café. He left her and walked to the café. They took his papers and walked to one of the two police cars and began to radio the information in. Scott took out his mobile to check the SMS for the name of the town he was supposed to deliver the medicines to. Suddenly, he realized, he didn’t know for sure what was in the trunk. The cop who went to the café came back and said something to the one standing there, Scott thought he shrugged and shook his head. When the policeman saw him with the mobile, he yelled something in Serb and grabbed the phone. They grabbed the keys and opened the trunk. Scott began to pray.

part three