The Shadow-gloom and Weight of the Sacred

During our first year in Vienna we spent a lot of time studying German. We took intensive German courses at the University of Vienna. It was some of the most laborious work I've ever done. It's so hard to feel like you're attaining any sort of success when learning a language; you can never speak the second language as well as you think you should as soon as you think you should. It can be discouraging. On top of that, culture stress is at its most difficult during the first year. After the first year, I had brief bouts with culture stress (like when I reached the cashier at the grocery store) and occasional bouts of prolonged culture stress (like when it came time to renew visas; this was an arduous, difficult process that is never accomplished with ease--attaining an Austrian Visa represents months of persistent work and interaction with Austrian immigration officials). The major part of the first year in a foreign culture is basically one continuous moment of culture stress. Everything is miserable. Everything is discouraging. Everything is depressing.

Gretchen and I were in intensive German classes five days a week from October until January. We did get a two week break for Christmas, but we were still exhausted, fatigued and weary by the time the semester ended in late January. The spring term didn't start until March. We spent most of February decompressing from school, the relocation (we moved to Vienna in July, but it's a reeling type of move that is tremendous to prepare and conduct; it takes a while to get over it), the stress. I read the bulk of N.T. Wright's book The New Testament and the People of God during this break. I'd started it in November, but had been unable to give it much attention. I tried not to think about starting German courses again. I didn't want to go back. I was burned out.

But, March came along. We started back to class. Though I was excited by finishing the book (it really is a tome), and though the content of the book really moved and motivated me, I was still stressed and more German class was a big stressor.

As we rode the Ubahn that first morning of the spring term, I kept silent. So did Gretchen. I don't think either one of us really wanted to be there. U1 to Karlsplatz, then U2 to Schottentor. This was before the U2 extension was completed. It was probably a 30-40 minute journey including walking time. While we rode on the U2, I heard a loud thump behind me. It sounded like a watermelon hitting the ground. I didn't move. I didn't think it was anything. Just a bump in the rails. After all, the Ubahn was always making some kind of noise that didn't sound just right. It was an horrible sounding thump, but I really didn't think anything had happened. It was perhaps 10 seconds later that Gretchen leaned over and said to me, "I think that guy behind us just collapsed."

I turned around and looked. Sure enough, there was a guy laying on the floor. The thump sound was him. Then I looked around the Ubahn train in which we were riding. There weren't many people in it on this particular morning. Maybe five other people. They were looking at the collapsed man, too. That's it. Doing nothing. Just looking.

"Oh," I said to Gretchen.

It really was a horrible sound, that thump.