Moscow Travels

Who we are, what we did, what we hope will come..

2008-05-14T11:39:00.000-07:00

We are Theological Librarians, Deans, Rectors, Faculty and Information Professionals from Universities, Seminaries, Bible Colleges, Associations and Non-Profit Organizations.

We came to this conference held at Moscow Theological Seminary from regions in Russia including: Krasnodar, St. Petersburg, Prochladny, Moscow and Novosibirsk; and from regions in the Ukraine: Kremenchug, Lviv, Kiev, Zaporoshye, Kharkov, and Odessa. Two came from Kishinev, Moldova. Two came from the United States of America: Holland, Michigan and Durham, North Carolina. One came from Minsk, Belarus; one from Rome, Italy and one from Prague, Czech Republic. Our denominational affiliations included: Baptists, Pentecostals, Orthodox, Christian Reformed and Catholic. Our conference was called, “Library Support for Educational Programs in Theological Schools.”

We came together because of the combined efforts of Katharina Penner, Head Librarian at International Baptist Theological Seminary and Alexander Popov, Head Librarian at Moscow Theological Seminary. Their efforts were poured into the foundational work that Sergei Sannikov established fifteen years ago by founding and directing the Euro-Asian Accrediting Association.

What we did was to collaborate with and learn from each other. We discussed (among many things) the mission of the library, cataloging practices, information literacy, the library’s role in distance education, digitization, the online public access catalog, and how to manage change in a fast-paced technological environment.

The conference included both a professional and a spiritual component, giving participants an opportunity to be encouraged and to begin to envision ways of working with new technology and develop new skill sets. But its main purpose was to foster cooperation, to build relationships and to share knowledge and resources.

At the end of the conference, three decisions were made:
1) to formalize a consortium/association (yet to be named) of Euro-Asian librarians
2) to continue discussions on a newly formed listserv
3) to begin to discuss the possibility of a conference next year in Ukraine.

All in all, we began a work that we hope will continue: establishing a community of practice that uses the best of each of its contributors to strengthen the work of theological schools in the CIS.

The conference presentations can be found (in Russian) at:

http://www.moscowseminary.org/
index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=95&Itemid=134

Re-entry

2008-05-11T06:38:00.000-07:00

In the movie, The Matrix, Andy and Larry Wachowski create a story about two variant worlds: the one Neo knows and the world he finds beyond the rabbit hole.

Like Neo, I took the red pill and traveled to Moscow, an unknown world with an expansive empire whose roots lie in a civilization of Mongols and other tribal peoples.

It is a dream from which I want to wake as I re-enter North Carolina. Despite the jet lag fog I drive to my bakery on Sunday morning to buy sourdough bread that the Russian’s I stayed with had never heard of, along with a freshly brewed cup of coffee, passing through the tree-lined streets that shade the idyllic world in which I live.

But it tarries with me, the depth of this rabbit hole, like the long deep subway tunnel winding in a circle around Moscow.

New York, New York

2008-05-10T06:49:00.000-07:00

After several hours in the air on a Delta 767, the strategically placed monitors that lit up with movies or announcements also monitored the flight, giving elevation, speed, and temperature as well as mapping the path of the flight plan. I started paying attention when I saw the green screen list that we had traveled 3,771 kilometers and the line with an image of a tiny airplane showed that we were heading toward the tip of Greenland. After another 2.5 hours, I looked out the window and saw snow: we were crossing into Newfoundland and Labrador, heading toward Quebec and Montreal. The outside air temperature was -20c.

Soon we’d be heading toward New York.

This flight was quite different from the sullen flight to Moscow. People spoke to one another and the flight attendants were busy with all the in flight calls from people with questions.

The English-speaking man across the aisle seemed quite helpless, needing assistance to put on his headset, which so frustrated him, that he finally threw it down despite the help his neighbor was trying to give him. His gray suit still looked pressed and he glommed on to one flight attendant, asking specifically for her.

“Is Natalie there?”

“She’s helping someone else right now. What do you need?”

“Well, she was helping me fill this out,” he said pointing to his customs card. “I’ll wait until she’s free.”

And so it went. Many with worried questions about customs cards, an extra cup of coffee, can someone help me with the overhead bin compartment?

Or, the small well-groomed Russian man in front of me who rang and rang for the flight attendant because the man in front of him was still on his cell phone during take off.

“Why are you letting this man talk on his phone? He’s not supposed to be doing this. Who does he think he is? Must be a very important man. Doesn’t he have to follow the rules? A very, very important man.” I expected his accent and mocking tone to provoke a fight, but the large man with the crew cut sitting in front of him didn’t understand English.

The bi-lingual, Russian flight attendants were swift in their actions against this incorrect behavior with several attendants descending on him at once to make sure he understood and than tending to his accuser with finesse.

“Yes, yes, thank you so much for telling us.” Natalie said.

As the plane began to descend toward New York, all the shaded window covers opened to see America. I was among them, gawking for the lady whose torch would for the first time, light for me the memory of breathing the air of freedom.

Coming home

2008-05-09T11:11:00.000-07:00

The woman next to me on the plane ride home was a babushka from Seattle who only spoke Russian. We got along fine, saying very little except, 'exuse me,' or 'spaceeba.' She kept accidentally ringing for the flight attendant while trying to adjust the light so she could read her Russian paper. The attendants always looked to me, as though I was her caretaker, and kept asking if everything was okay. I nodded, not knowing that babushka kept tripping the switch until finally, one attendant came by, reached over to the arm rest and turned off the call light. Babushka was none the wiser.

After we had been in the air for a few hours, a movie started without announcement and without any visual listing of the title. I guess the Disney logo should have been enough, but despite all my time in Moscow, I was still learning to be clever enough to adjust to sudden events, scrambling to find and plug in my headset without accidentally calling the flight attendant for help. When I finally settled into my seat, I realized I was watching the movie in Russian and when the attendant came by, I had to ask, "what channel is the English?" She smiled and said, "1 or 2, I'm not sure."

I flipped the channels and found it, relieved and hopeful that I'd soon know what films were playing so that I could tell folks back home which three movies I watched on the plane; National Treasure and Enchanted were all I learned. I can only tell you about the other movie because they didn't list the title in the back of the Sky magazine. No matter. The movies were a gift, transporting me far from the travels I had made to an easy, listless space where I could rest from the confusion of entering the SVO airport with no idea where to go, no signs and no one to ask who spoke English. I just lumbered through and guessed, being turned away by two agents who told me I was in the wrong place and pointed to the other side of the terminal.

By the time I got to my gate, I had passed through four security check points and while I waited to board the plane, they changed the gate without announcing it. This is how I found other English speakers who pressed into the mess of people who, even while handing our boarding pass to the attendant, were asked security questions about what we were bringing on board. What a relief to sit next to babushka who didn't seem to mind anything, continuing to trip the switch to call the flight attendant who, near the end of flight, caught my eye and handed me an extra ice cream treat.

One never knows

2008-05-05T00:28:00.000-07:00

In America, I believe I can safely say that we live with a sense of security regarding our daily activities: we get up, go to work, mail our bills, drive to the store and buy our food, visit with friends and family and take whatever unexpected events occur without too much stress. Or, during very stressful times, we have ways of managing that undergird the unspoken freedoms we have.

When we visited Danilov Monastery yesterday, Katharina bought some honey to take back to Prague. I wasn't certain I'd have room to take this home in my suitcase, so I waited, deciding after we ate our piroshky that I'd like to buy some too. But without notice, the store closed. This is not an isolated event, but has happened several times here in different ways. For example, the first metro ticket I bought with Alexander's help was in denominations of 8. The next day, they didn't sell that ticket anymore - you could only buy denonminations of 2, 5, 10, etc. I was confused. But this small change, like random store closings is normal here, creating an insecurity and fear that manages the masses.

I have been one of those masses during my time here and will continue to be so until I leave. The plans I make on this side of the Atlantic are ever changing, laden with a world view unlike what I know. Perhaps it is in this place of insecurity that we can begin to understand that collaborating with people from worlds unlike our own is hard, hard work and takes a tenaciousness that seems to be inherent in these good, Slavic peoples. Perhaps bringing this message back is part of my task.

Forgive me

2008-05-04T06:02:00.000-07:00

With the conference now over and most everyone having left for their homes, Katharina and I took a day off for an excursion to the Danilov Monastery, the official residence of the Russian Orthodox Patriarch. It was founded in 1282 by Prince Daniil and survived until the Revolution when in the 1930's it became a prison. The church reclaimed it in 1983 and it differs from other Russian monasteries because it is not isolated, but an open, active monastery with working priests and many worshipers.

Katharina and I took the three trains to the suburbs and entered at the Gate Church of St. Simeon the Stylite. Uniformed guards stood at the entry as we walked by. It was 11:30am and we wandered the grounds, looking at the statue of Prince Vladimir and the gardens. The Trinity Cathedral was closed for cleaning. We entered the small Millenium Chapel where people gathered to write their petitions for prayer in time for the noon Mass. We watched, heads uncovered, the many people crossing themselves and kissing the icons. We wandered upstairs to the crypt area where Daniil was buried and again, watched the veneration of icons, careful to be quiet and respectful. Suddenly, there was an announcement that the doors were closing and that everyone needed to leave. We followed and went back to the small chapel area where the iconostasis was set and saw the priest enter and begin the prayers. So we stayed and bowed at the appropriate time.

The floors were hard, we stood and stood until we tired. The service was at its beginning and yet, we decided to leave. We walked out quietly toward the small shops where we had smelled Peroshki baking on the way in. We purchased a few, and went to rest our feet at the benches next to the Holy water where many came to drink.

As we sat and ate, a man with a gray beard and pale blue eyes approached me and began to speak in Russian. I didn't know what he was saying. His tone was pointed and I sat quietly, not saying a word. Katharina listened and nodded and also sat quiet.

We were being admonished: We had not come to worship. We were tourists who insulted their work. We were sitting next to the Holy water and my legs were crossed. This was not appropriate behavior for a woman. The man with the cell phone in the suit next to us was beyond hope. But we, we were women and so there might be hope.

"Do you understand?" He asked in Russian. We said nothing.

"If you have come as tourists, you should have at least read the rules of behavior or you should not have come at all."

Seeing that we would not engage in what some Russians would see as potentially argumentative behavior, he finished with, "forgive me," and left.

Final conference sessions

2008-05-04T05:50:00.000-07:00

On the final day of the conference,"Library Support for Educational Programs in Theological Schools," Lyuba Zakharova presented a session called, "Managing Change in a Changing Technological Profession," followed by Alexander Popov, whose session on "Digitization" was the final presentation of the conference.

After a break, we all gathered for the Open Forum session to discuss possible next steps for providing support and beginning collaboration at a distance. All agreed that a listserv would be a great way to stay connected and to begin discussions to form a vision for a possible consortium. In the Russian tradition, spirited conversations took place and we ended as we had begun each day, with prayer.

How can you be an American with a Russian name?

2008-05-04T04:59:00.000-07:00

I was invited to this conference by Katharina Penner, Head Librarian at IBTS in Prague. She and Alexander coordinated all the details and I assisted where I could.

When she compiled the list of attendees, she wrote my name as Lyuba Zakharova, the English spelling of the Russian pronounciation of my name. Meri and Charlotte and I were the only American's at the conference and the only ones with English name tags. Thus, when introducing myself to others with my poor Russian skills, I'd always start in Russian with, "I don't speak Russian very well." This was met with smiles and followed by the question, "How can you be an American with a Russian name?"

"Well," I'd start, "my parents were immigrants to America in the 1950's," and the story of my Russian roots in an American life would begin to unravel. In the end, some who I met would say, "ana kak nasha" - she is like one of us.

Conference road trip, part 2: The Adventurous Russian Spirit

2008-05-04T04:08:00.000-07:00

After our tour of the Tretyakov Gallery, Alexander led us, like an experienced guide, through the streets of Moscow and back to the subway where we took the train to McDonalds. After 30 of us failed to enter the tiny McDonalds, we left and took the train again to another, larger McDonald's. After we ate, Alexander suggested we walk to Red Square, which was met with a welcome by all.

It was still light at 6pm and many hadn't yet seen Moscow, so we headed out. Small groups formed, digital photos were snapped as we stood in front of St. Basil's Cathedral in Red Square creating a new history: theological librarians meeting in a land that was new to us all; the same land depicted by 19th century artists in the Gallery with St. Basil's in the backgroud.

"Is everyone okay to walk another 2 meters?" Alexander asked.

"To where?" I asked.

"I thought it would be great if we could walk back to the Gallery where we began." He answered.

Everyone agreed, and we walked passed St. Basil's, across the foot bridge over the Moscow River and then under the subway, passed Moscow Unversity and back to the heart of Zamoskvareche. On the way, people scattered. We briefly lost Victor who had ducked into McDonalds for a cup of coffee. He reappeared at the entry to the metro station and sheepishly said that he didn't know that we'd be waiting for him. I learned later that Katharina and the other Victor had left the group while we were still at Red Square to head back to the seminary. People came and went and miraculously we thought we had all arrived.

"But where is Lena?" asked her roomate who had to wait in the hall on the couch because Lena had the only available room key.

"I saw her at the gallery." I said. Darkness had descended into the already long night.

We worried. Alexander, who had taken the train back to his home, called Katharina on our room phone. Was there something we could do?

"Well, we'll see in the morning. Maybe she's already returned." Katharina said.

I went to bed worried. Lena was not from Moscow.

In the morning I went down the hall and asked if she'd ever returned.

"Oh yes, she had to visit another publisher and pick up some books. Along the way she met a woman who was searching for the Lord and Lena was able to tell her about her faith. I told her we were worried and prayed for her." Her roomate said.

"And?"

"She told me, 'you shouldn't worry, but praying led you back to God, yes?'"

Conference sessions, day two

2008-05-02T11:57:00.000-07:00

Today's morning conference sessions included Katharina Penner's presentation on Information Literacy and Lyuba Zakharova's talk on the Online Public Access Catalog (OPAC). Eugeni Borisovich Rashkowki spoke about the Library of Foreign Literature (www.libfl.org) and re-collecting the religious materials that were destroyed after the Revolution. Meri MacLeod gave more useful information on Distance Learning and Andrei Gorbachenko from ServanTek gave an overview of Moodle and Greenstone2, both open source software products geared for Distance Learning and Education.

After a lunch of soup, cabbage salad, and steamed fish over mashed potatoes, we gathered our 30 librarians and headed into the city for a group tour at the State Tretyakov Gallery.

This gallery houses Russian art from the 12th to early 20th century. We broke into two groups and wandered through the halls of what used to be Tretyakov's home, now filled with the art he collected. Our tour guide was a spirited woman whose Russian slipped through her teeth in such a melodic way that I didn't mind not being able to understand most of what she said. Lera, the librarian from Belarus who translated my presentations into Russian was a great translator if I asked. But mostly, I was quietly enamoured by the art and the icons, not needing a vocal, literary or historic context.

Dinner was at McDonalds: a Big Mac and fries with bottled water cost 135.00 Rubles.

The night grows late quickly as Katharine, Alexander and I work on tomorrows presentations in our separate work spaces, surprised by how quickly the conference is going with still so much left to do.

Conference road trip, part 1

2008-05-02T02:43:00.000-07:00

Imagine taking 30 conference attendees from regions as far away as Ukraine, Siberia, Moldova, Kiev and Rome into the Russian subway....

Library conference in full swing

2008-05-01T10:35:00.000-07:00

Here are a few highlights of today's conference sessions:

Katharina Penner began the library conference today with a presentation on collection development and the resources and services of the library. She spoke about the importance of the mission of the library and how it needs to be connected to the larger mission of the institution.

Dr. Meri MacLeod talked about the role of the library in distance education and encouraged the librarians present to be "pioneers" in this area by establishing good working relationships with faculty.

Pavlenko Tatyana Borisovna began her presentation on cataloging with a quote that I will paraphrase: "Give me the library and I will open the university" - which supports the key role the library plays in education as a median between resources and services.

St. Andrew's Biblical Theological Institute made its translated Russian texts available for purchase during the day.

There was a short presentation on the Pontifical Institute (Universitas Urbaniana)and its plans to work with IFLA to create one standard international scheme for cataloging rules and introduced us to its new open network.

After a nice lunch of stuffed bell peppers, cabbage salad and soup, we heard Dr. Victor Titarchuk speak about his organization, ServanTek and in particular, about the open source software called KOHA.

The conference is being videotaped and those tapes as well as the presentations will be made available on the upcoming conference website.

Blast

2008-04-30T12:29:00.000-07:00

Today a band of us ventured again into the cavernous subway and took the train to the station stop nearest the Kremlin. Alexander stood in line to buy tickets to enter the Kremlin gates, but because of the May 1st holiday and the upcoming May 9th celebrations, many of the cathedrals were closed. Nevertheless, they still charged us 300 rubles for the tickets. Alexander checked his large black briefcase at the security check below and we climbed the steps to the guarded roads where monuments with Russian inscriptions stood locked. We wandered by the Armory Palace and entered the only open building, the Cathedral of the Annunciation. Its history was painted on the walls, and as we were studying the icons and artifacts, the room shifted with the entry of four men in brown robes with waist sashes. I turned to Katharina and asked, “Where are their beards?”

“Funny, you’re right. Alexander, where are their beards?”

“They’re not priests,” he said.

“So, they’re just singers?” I asked.

There was no reply, and really, none was needed because the suddenness of their four voices so filled the cathedral that nothing else could be heard. I had never heard Psalm 1 sung with such short-winded fury, like a blast from the Tsar Cannon that stood outside, its 40 ton bronze barrel never having been fired and the Tsar Bell, (weighing nearly 15 times as much as London’s Big Ben) breaking before it ever had a chance to be rung.

Collaboration begins

2008-04-29T13:18:00.000-07:00

Meri MacLeod, Associate Professor of Education Leadership and Director of Distance Learning at Western Theological Seminary, traveled with me and Alexander Popov, Librarian at Moscow Theological Seminary to visit with Alexei Bodrov, Rector at St. Andrew's Biblical Theological Institute in Moscow. Katharina Penner, Librarian at International Baptist Theological Seminary arrived today from Prague and the conference begins tomorrow night...

Russian subway, part 1

2008-04-28T06:54:00.000-07:00

Alexander is a librarian. He lives in Moscow. Today, he picked me up and said that we'd be going downtown on the subway and once we arrived, he'd go on to pick up Meri at the airport.

"You'll find your way home. It's easy. Just two trains. The first one is the yellow line and we take it almost to the end. Just remember, on your way back, the name of your stop sounds like, Shoshee Enthusiasts."

Right, I thought. I wrote it down, visualizing the Russian word for Shoshee..

"Okay, from Shoshee (the yellow line) you will take the green line for just one stop." He jumped on the train, and I ran in behind him just as the doors of the train closed on me, sandwiching half of me in and half of me out. I looked at the shock on Alexander's face and stretched my arms out to pry open the doors like I'd seen on TV. Luckily, I squeezed in.

"You're going to have to learn to be more.."

"Aggressive?" I cut in.

"No, more clever about the way you do things."

I frowned wondering what could have more clever than squeezing onto this train?

"Okay, now, you'll get off at the first green stop and here we are, downtown."

I was spending so much time paying attention to the escalators that we rode to get to the subway that I was having a hard time paying attention to directions.

"Just look for Lenin and you know you're in the right spot."

Okay, I thought, what do I win if I can find my way back?

Carp

2008-04-27T20:43:00.000-07:00

In flight, sliding off the Coach class seat, sleep never comes. I am wide awake and restless. By the time this fourteen hour flight ends, and I find my way through the passport check station to my luggage and then to the men who hold the placard with my name on it in English, I already carry the kind of exhaustion that makes my judgment poor.

We walk to the car for the long drive through Moscow with me unable to take in the vast beauty of the rivers we cross and the historic Kremlin tower while trying to negotiate the broken Russian I haven't spoken well since childhood. Thankfully, Alexander's English is good.

"There is so much to do and we must stop at the supermarket to store up on groceries," Alexander suggests. I have arrived a few days early for this conference and will help host other incoming participants. "You'll have a meal for Katharina - (or did he say Meri?), okay?"

"Sure. I'd be happy to do that." I say.

We arrive at the seminary, drop off my luggage and walk the two blocks to the market that takes credit cards and begin to wheel through the aisles, choosing potatoes, beets, mushrooms, eggs, water and how about a live carp?

"It's very traditionally Russian and fresh too." Alexander says.

I stare into the tank at the wide-eyed, gray, air-sucking fish and say, "Sure, let's get one."

"You'll have to scale it.."

"I know, I know. I'll have gut it and well, how do I kill it?"

"Just cut its head off, that's all. Some American's feel sorry for it and wait for it to die."

"Okay," I say.

So we tell the blue-gloved, Russian woman we'd like a carp and she plunges her hand into the large tank and pulls one out, alive and squirming, and throws it into a plastic bag to weigh it.

On the way home, I wonder what I've done. Why didn't I just take the chicken instead? What was I thinking?

We get back, unload the groceries into the refrigerator, and take a quick tour. At suppertime, I tell myself I can't bear to deal with the messiness of the fish right now, so I improvise a rice dish with vegetables deciding to make carp for breakfast.

The next morning I brave myself and pull the fish from the fridge where it is still in the plastic bag. I take it out, set it on the kitchen counter, get the sharpest knife I have and prepare to cut its head off, but the carp is still breathing. It's still alive. I throw it into the sink, hoping the fall will put it out of its misery. I grip the knife tightly, pick up the carp, determined to cut its head off, but the blade won't go through. I try another angle, but the slimy skin makes it impossible to grasp, so I get a towel and try again.

I think it was the motion of the breathing gills that made me give up. I put the carp back into its plasic bag, set it in the fridge, sad, defeated and hungry.

Queue

2008-04-27T05:09:00.000-07:00

Everything changed the moment my plane arrived in New York.

We exited the plane into daylight and entered the air conditioned walkway at Delta gate 25 to begin the inward loop toward Delta gate 08. As we did, it seemed that almost suddenly the sound of Russian speaking people on cell phones littered the walkway, leaving behind the English chatter that filled the airplane on the flight from RDU. At first I thought it was the carpet that muffled their cell phone tones, but when I arrived at the gate, I saw that those who spoke on phones were few and did so quietly. Among them, there was no one true ethnic face but rather, clumps of Russian people who gathered and nodded politely to one another, speaking quietly.

"Is the toliet far?" I overheard an elderly woman with curly red hair asking a young woman sitting across from her in Russian.

"I don't know," she answered.

"Well, that lady just asked me and I didn't know what to say."

"She'll find it.

The woman came back later, successful and now hungry, wanting this same woman to watch her bags.

"But of course, I'd be happy to," she said.

It was only after the announcement to form a queue that I realized that none of these three women knew each other.

It came over the loud speaker, first in Russian (the speed and tone confused me), and then in English, but by then, the crowd divided and queued up in a large mass as I scrambled to find a spot. Those who had been talking with one another hurried to find those they came with and together, we all waited to have our passports checked against our boarding passes, stamping our documents with the final approval to board the plane to Moscow.

After this long flight to Moscow, again, I deplaned, but this time with an English speaking foreign correspondent with whom I chatted intermittantly during the flight, again, quietly. He knew his way through the passport line and said as we entered it, "this looks bad - it looks like a group of migrant workers from Southeast Asia just arrived and they don't have the same queuing system that we do. We could be here for hours."

I looked about and saw again the blended pressing mass and smiled. He and I shot glances at the many queuing options - he took the one marked, "diplomats, " I went through the new, "electronic" line and met him to exchange business cards in baggage claim.

Places we have never been

2008-04-24T11:31:00.000-07:00

Funded by a grant from ATLA and Duke University Divinity School, I will be attending a conference for theological librarians in Moscow called, "Library Support for Educational Programs in Theological Schools." This conference is co-jointly sponsored by the Euro-Asian Accrediting Association and Moscow Theological Seminary* and will be held at MTS* April 30 - May 3, 2008.

Going to Moscow for the first time is both exciting and daunting. I'll be meeting folks from Prague, Rome, the Commonwealth of Independent States and places yet to be named. All of us will be gathering to collaborate and learn new skills from theological librarians and in the process, I hope that we will make new friends, visit places we've never been and both write and tell the stories that come from the common bonds we will build.

Journey with us. Ask us questions. Give suggestions for professional tools or resources that we might consider trying out in this country we've never seen. Tell us what it was like when you first went some place you'd never been. Help us build stories that can remind us about why we travel, what to look for and how we can stay in touch with the new friends we make. Perhaps together we'll discover something new, something that matters more than we expected it might. Or maybe we won't recognize whatever subtle changes happen until someone who traveled with us reminds us about what it was like in Moscow in April 2008.