An American in Germany (for a week)

by Ariadna Gill

Sitting in the Scholar’s Lounge in Munich, I realized that I’m not much of a football (soccer) fan. So while my friends cheered for Portugal’s goal against Slovenia, I let my eyes wander the pub, landing on a wall with this quote by James Joyce painted on it: “They lived and laughed and loved and left.”

It is only now, several weeks after the 14th All Diaspora Youth Conference in Germany has ended, that I realize why this quote stood out to me. Joyce had penned an eloquent account of my experiences and the exhilaration I felt following the conference. The only other way I could describe these sensations to my parents was: “My soul is happy.”

Sharing all that had happened during this expansive week-long conference would make for a novel, not an article like the one I intend to write. So perhaps I will share with you just one of the impactful revelations I’ve gained from this trip…

Our Russian Orthodox identity is a powerful, beckoning force that brings us together in soulful camaraderie, one that is unlike any other shared identity I’ve experienced.

During my time traipsing around Germany, my parents were on an adventure of their own in California for the 30th anniversary of St. John of Shanghai and San Francisco’s glorification. During our video call one evening, they shared a quote that Fr. Peter Prekrestov had referenced that morning in his sermon: “Unity in the main things, diversity in secondary things, love in all things.” While Joyce’s quote describes the more social aspects of my trip, this sentence, thought to be from the 17th century, represents my faith-based experiences.

Unity in the main things

Standing in front of the St. Mary Magdalene Chapel in Darmstadt, I spoke with Fr. Gregory Joyce, commenting on the camaraderie I was experiencing with my conference peers. He suggested that this gathering of young people was special because we’d come to the age where we had all made the personal choice to lead our lives as Orthodox Christians. No matter if we’d been raised into the church by our parents, were priest’s kids, or had recently converted, we’d made, by this point in our lives, the active choice to pursue this lifestyle. We were united with the knowledge that these new friends from across the globe (Aussies and Austrians and Americans, oh my!) had the same core beliefs and values.

Diversity in secondary things

One key portion of this conference were the lectures, presented by clergy and scholars alike. In one of these lectures, Protodeacon Bartholomew Bazanov and Mrs. Barbara Artemoff-Bazanov used an intriguing model to describe multicultural interconnectedness. They presented us with an iceberg, most of it hidden below water level, not something we’d see immediately. Similarly to a physical iceberg’s qualities, the culture of a society, or in this case faith, is largely hidden at a first glance. We need to examine the intricacies of our faith in order to connect through them with others.

We were challenged to each contribute a characteristic of Russian Orthodoxy to a large-scale iceberg poster, a physical expression of our faith. I came up to thumb-tack my example towards the end of the activity and got a glimpse at others’ additions to the iceberg. I was pleasantly surprised to see how many characteristics I related to, both the obvious ones and those less visible to outsiders. Looking around at all of the attendees from the front of the hall, I saw our differences in another light. We had the important similarities ingrained from our shared faith – the other, more distinguishable, cultural differences were just an interesting addition and a conversation starter. They were the “diversity” of expression that gave us a chance to broaden our perspectives on our faith, a primary goal of an all-diaspora conference.

Love in all things

Sitting in an Italian restaurant towards the end of our trip (spaetzle and beer had run their course by then), I needled my friends with the question, “What were the key insights you’ve gained from this trip?” They confirmed my hunch that the fellowship between all participants, youth and clergy alike, during the conference was going to be a core memory for us. Perhaps it was partially the decadent truffle fries we were ravenously eating, but I felt such gratitude for all the participants. This week that had flown by was coming to a close, and I could barely keep up as my mind spun with all of the incredible people I had met, places I had visited, and conversations I’d had.

And now, finishing up this article at home in Chicago, I realize that the peace I’ve felt since the conference ended is the exact point of it. The All Diaspora Youth Conference serves as a retreat, a place to soulfully rehabilitate after a year of worldly struggles. We are sent back to our daily lives with newfound strength, confidence, and the knowledge that we’re not alone in the identity with which we’ve chosen to walk through life.