I take back my words about The Brothers Karamazov. I'm far from being done with the book because I realised that it has two volumes. I had only finished the first one. So I have another 700 pages to go. Sigh.

The chapter where brother Ivan tells the story about a medieval inquisitor who condemns Jesus to death because of His life and because of how it contradicts the teaching of the church blew me away. I mean, what an idea! I knew I could expect something really really deep from that famous chapter but it was way more than I could ask from it. If it was up to me, I'd make that chapter mandatory for all the church leaders out there to read. Everyone seriously involved in church should think of Jesus' desert temptations and how the church over its history has continually said yes to the temptations which Jesus rejected. The temptations of miracles, mysteries, and authority... And thus the church has every right to condemn Jesus for getting it all wrong. Oh my, brother Ivan sure is a genius.

But I have one problem with the book. It's this continuous drama and hysteria that makes me really tired. It's like, someone is constantly hysteric or pathetic, moods change in a blink of an eye. I went to see a Russian opera about two weeks ago. Rimsky-Korsakov's The Tsar's Bride. Beautiful music! But again, what a drama. Someone gets stabbed, someone gets poisoned, someone loses their mind... And I don't know if it's a Russian thing or 19th century thing. Or just a general human thing. But it makes me so tired in my head.

I hate drama.

I took a walk in my backyard. There's beauty everywhere. Everywhere.

It was a week ago or so when I happened to think of all the ways Newbold has influenced my life. I was eating chocolate that M.J. sent me, wrote another tract to B. (a 'bad ***' one, as he calls my long sentimental-emotional outbursts he has to endure every now and then), talked and prayed with S. over Skype, listened to illegal amounts of Ky-Mani and Stephen (I hold U. responsible for that). I don't even want to mention how I analyse and critique sermons now when I sit in the pew (I think J. has done a lot in this area by killing my own sermons - although we never agreed on the terminology, what I called 'killing' he called 'sharing thoughts'). And of course I ordered tea with milk the last time I went to a cafe. There's not a single area of life that Newbold and Newboldians haven't influenced.

So this Throwback Thursday is a tribute to my Newbold family.

K. & J. & H. & U.
S. & A. & M. & T.

That picture was taken on my birthday party in the end of my first Newbold year [click on the photo, it goes bigger]. It's a picture I don't come across with very often but each time I do, it makes me laugh. It's this happy kind of laughter as I think - just like any Newboldian is ought to - that I happened to be in Newbold at the right time and happened to meet all the right people there.

But enough of that. We wouldn't want to get too emosh now, would we.

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As to books, I'm finishing Dostoyevsky's monumental The Brothers Karamazov today. After the LOTR trilogy there's no book too fat for me. :) Then I'm on to Tchekhov's short stories. While reading I listen to Rachmaninoff's music. I'm going all Russian here.

Yes, yes, I haven't forgotten, I have to post my Tuesday's Tune! First two weeks I've had a cover so I thought I'd make it a cover month and post two more of them. Two more of my favourite ones, I mean. Today it's Eva Cassidy's version of Sting's Fields of Gold. I can't decide whether it's better than the original or not, but I sure listen to it way more than the original. So I guess my deeds show that I really vote for her version.

It was a strange and tough day today. I had to fight for my beliefs and principles. And I lost.

I'd be more than thankful for anyone who says a prayer for me.

I saw an ad somewhere on Facebook last week - Food Bank has a big food collecting weekend in Estonia and all volunteers are invited to help. It took me exactly two minutes to decide and to sign up for the event. So this afternoon I spent three hours at the grocery store in a big shopping mall, distributing Food Bank fliers and answering questions and encouraging people to buy something extra that they could donate to Food Bank. Gosh, they were truly the most intense three hours I can remember. But it was all well worth the sweat and effort. After our three hour shift me and two other volunteers had four big trolleys full of food. I mean, they were literally food mountains there. I was so touched by the generosity and goodness of people I almost got emosh.

And then, although I could have just go home, I helped FB people to load the food mountains on a van and then unload the van at their office, to sort and weigh and pack and everything. And I started talking to the Food Bank's local coordinator and she was very surprised to hear I'm a theologian and about to start working in a church. And then she said, 'Well, we have these food collecting events every now and then. Do you think you could put a little volunteer team together in your church and come help us some more in the future?' And I was like, 'YEAH! ABSOLUTELY!' So we exchanged email addresses and compliments and went on our way being friends.

This is pure awesomeness, I tell you! Of course we're going to help Food Bank in the future. I mean, if not us, who else?

And standing there, looking at people who donated and who didn't, who paid attention and who didn't, I decided - my kids are going to grow up, learning that giving is just as important as receiving. No, that giving is more important than receiving. And that giving is essential, like breathing or blinking your eyes. That giving makes you a human. Yes, my kids will learn that one day.

It's June the 14th. It's the national remembrance day here in Estonia. It's a day when we remember and honour those fellow Estonians who suffered from the Soviet terror.

Of all the nations caught up in the World War II Estonia was one of the most unfortunate ones. We got caught between two evil empires. Which one of them was more evil, I don't know. But which one caused more suffering to Estonians, that I do know.

In the middle of the night on the 14th of June 1941 about 10 000 innocent people were woken and arrested. The crime was being wealthier and more intellectual than the rest of the nation. Well-fixed farmers, police officers, politicians who hadn't been shot by that time, teachers, writers, other intellectuals, their families - all were sent to Siberia against their will, in cattle cars. Half of them never returned, they died there of hunger and diseases.

The next day Soviet newspapers reported of 10 000 happy Estonians who were thrilled to leave and who were eagerly waiting for a new life in their new homeland...

Another 20 000 people were mass deported to Siberia in 1949.

There's not a single Estonian family who would have been untouched by this horror. Actually, I've sat on a couch of an old church member and seen the scars on her arms and legs and heard her bloodcurdling stories of how they - little children - ate grass and bark in Siberia in order not to starve to death.

We don't know for certain but it's likely that my grandfather was on the deportation list in 1949. It was four years before my mom was born. Why the Soviet soldiers didn't knock on his door that night, we still don't know. If they had, things would be very different now. Most likely my mom would not be here. Most likely I would not be here...

I'm so excited about my Tuesday's Tune and there is so much awesome music out there that I need to keep myself from posting ten songs at a time. I mean, I could. But no, it's one at a time. Today's tune is another heart-melting cover, Joni Mitchell's cover - James Blake sings her A Case of You. It's hard to believe there's a man out there who's got a voice like this. Dear heavens! I hope I will never meet him in person...

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So I finished my LOTR book marathon yesterday, now I'm on to the movie marathon. It seems that I'm developing an unhealthy interest in that story. But truth be told, it is the most beautiful tale I have ever read in my life. The third book got me constantly teared up, and it doesn't happen often that I need a box of tissues when reading a book.

And there was another revelation that hit me while reading the last book. I realised that the whole story is Aragorn's just as much as it is Frodo's. Aragorn is that quiet guy who keeps a low profile and always follows Gandalf's instructions and who barely ever lets people realise that he is the King, the heir of Isildur and the rightful lord of all the Middle-earth. He just toils and works and helps the Ring-bearer and fights for what is good and just, and the kingship doesn't seem to bother him much. And he heals, oh, he heals! His name means the Renewer, and one of the most beautiful bits of the book is when he heals people after the great battle because the old tale said that hands of the king are the hands of a healer. "At the doors of the Houses many were already gathered to see Aragorn, and they followed after him; and when at last he had supped, men came and prayed that he would heal their kinsmen or their friends whose lives were in peril through hurt and wound, or who lay under the Black Shadow. And Aragorn arose and went out, and he sent for the sons of Elrond, and together they laboured far into the night. And word went through the City: 'The King is come indeed."

Yes, the King is come indeed. And when the battle is won and the Black Shadow has vanished, the King finally claims his throne. And the moment he is being crowned, "all that beheld him gazed in silence, for it seemed to them that he was revealed to them now for the first time. Tall as the sea-kings of old, he stood above all that were near; ancient of days he seemed and yet in the flower of manhood; and wisdom sat upon his brow, and strength and healing were in his hands, and a light was about him."

What a story. What a King.