Word Pictures – Pardon My Interruption

April 15, 2015

Israel’s Holocaust Remembrance Day

In honor of Yom HaShoah, Israel’s Holocaust Remembrance Day, I am re-posting this article.

Working with tour groups in Israel is [almost] always a blessing. It’s exciting to see visitors’ faces when, as they say in Hebrew, “the coin falls.” In other words, when “the light comes on” or the connection between a certain event and place happens. I love to see the joy of discovery, especially as it relates to the Bible. But my groups generally have modern cultural and historical interests, too. Every group is different, and I’m regularly on the look out for things out of the ordinary and not on the itinerary that will make my group’s visit to Israel more special than it might already be. For this group, I found that special historical gem in the breakfast line.

As I approached the special-order egg line, I noticed the tattoo on his arm, 137010. Immediately, I knew he was a holocaust survivor because I’ve seen these tattoos in the museum, and probably a dozen times in person. However, I never had the nerve to ask the bearer to share his/her story; I just imagined what it might have been.

This time was different. I took a deep breath and asked the elderly gentleman a) if he spoke Hebrew, and b) if I could ask a question. “Yes,” he answered to both questions. I was hesitant, but I proceeded to ask if he would tell me the story of the numeric tattoo that appeared on his left forearm. I was afraid he would be embarrassed, but he wasn’t. In fact, he seemed pleased that I asked.

Interacting with my inquiry about his tattoo, he said, “My name is Beniko Gihon; in Germany my name was changed to 137010. I am a Jew originally from Greece.” He continued with a moving, two-minute version of his story. His family had been rounded up in Thessaloniki, and he was the only survivor. Over the course of five years, he was systematically transferred to/from Auschwitz-Birkenau, the Warsaw Ghetto, and Dachau. He had a variety of jobs, but mainly focused on his work in the crematoria.

I was translating his story for a man from my group and noticed that others had started to lean in closer to listen in on our conversation, which indicated that they found this interesting, too. After a couple minutes, his eggs and mine were ready, so, unfortunately, we had to bring this encounter to a close. I thanked him for sharing his story, we shook hands, and parted ways.

I found a table near my group and sat down by myself. To say that his story was gut wrenching would be an exaggerated understatement. But, his story wasn’t the thing that affected me the most. It was the question he posed: “Why were the Christians so quiet?”

I wanted my group to hear Beniko’s story, but I wondered if that would be asking too much. As I ate my breakfast, I kept an eye on him from across the room and wondered whether I should ask him to speak on the bus. Since he didn’t seem to mind my initial inquiry, I decided to go for it, and the outcome was just what I had hoped.

After my group boarded the bus, I brought them up to speed on what was about to happen, then I introduced Mr. Beniko. He climbed the stairs and stood proudly in the front of the bus and began to share his story.

Beniko, which is the Greek version of Benjamin, started with some details of his family and how the Nazis came to Greece and killed so many. The rest were taken to the labor and death camps in Germany and Poland, which is where he learned to speak German, and where his name was changed to 137010.

His story lasted longer than I had given him, which I knew it would. But, seeing him standing in the front of the bus and hearing his biography was worth every minute.

Some specific details that pierced my heart:

“I saw, with my own eyes, the soldiers toss little children in the air and shoot them like birds.”

“As people were herded off the trains near the crematoria, they pleaded with the soldiers to know where their children or parents were. The soldiers would point to the smoke rising out of the crematoria and say, ‘there they are.’”

“The people were packed so tightly into the ‘showers’ that when the Zyklon B gas was released they all died standing, and only fell to the ground when the doors were opened. As we removed the bodies, we could see the scratches on the walls where those on the outer edges were trying to claw their way out.”

As a worker at the crematoria, “I collected the fat that came from the bodies as they were burned. The Nazis used the fat to make soap for us prisoners, and I bathed with soap that may have been made from the remains of my parents and other family members.”

Beniko’s story, made the horrors of the Holocaust real and personal for us, impacting each in a slightly different way. I tried to give some current perspective to his presentation because the easy thing would be to say, “I wasn’t there” because none of us were. I reminded the group of the words of James 1:27 that pure religion is to care for the widows and orphans, which I understand to mean “take care of those who can’t take care of themselves.” I also think that being born again demands that Christians have an active interest in “the least of these” (Mt 25).

March 25, 2014

In the Presence of Significance

(L to R): Craig Dunning, Lorraine and Leon Dillinger

Yesterday, I had the rare opportunity to sit with people of significance, Leon and Lorraine Dillinger. Such opportunities are rare in life, because people of true significance are rare treasures. I’m tempted to use the word “greatness” in reference to the Dillingers, but doing so would 1) embarrass them, and 2) risk taking honor away from the Lord whose work in and through them is what tempts me to use the word “greatness.”

In a nutshell: Equipped with an intense love for Jesus paired with an unsurpassed commitment to do the Lord’s will and some medical and Wycliffe translation training, Leon and Lorraine went to Papua, Indonesia in 1958, and have, for 56 years and counting, given their lives to the Lord’s service among the Dani people. Leon, arrived 9 months before Lorraine, and in addition to preparing an airstrip for future flights in/out of this remote highlands village, he also prepared their “honeymoon cottage,” which was a grass hut. When Lorraine arrived, they married and lived in that grass hut.

The stories they have lived are too numerous to attempt to retell, but a few important ones must be included here: they reduced the Dani language to writing; taught the Dani to read and write (their own language); translated the Bible into Dani; have been part of the establishment of 130+ Dani churches, led by Dani pastors; and established schools and a Bible institute. They also helped improve the Dani people’s health by introducing certain medications and a variety of new vegetables (the sweet potato made up about 85% of the Dani diet when the Dillingers arrived) and protein sources including soy beans, peanuts and a variety of animals for meat.

A fun contextualization story: When they were translating Isaiah 53, they faced a conundrum.

6 All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned—every one—to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

⁷He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth.

The Dani had no knowledge of sheep. The only animal of which they were aware were wild pigs. Lorraine said, “We wondered what to do. The Dani had never seen or heard of sheep. We decided that we could use ‘pig’ in place of ‘sheep’ because the Dani understood how pigs can run off; they see that all the time. However, that didn’t solve the problem. Pigs don’t go to the slaughter quietly, which meant we couldn’t use ‘pig’ in place of ‘sheep.'”

What did they do? Realizing only “sheep” or “lamb” could work in that passage, they requested and received from the Dutch government a flock of sheep and began teaching the Dani about the character/personality of sheep so that the passage could make sense to them. (The sheep also served as a source of protein and wool, which was helpful in the cold temperatures of the Papua highlands.)

In addition to speaking in chapel, Leon and Lorraine spoke to our student ministries class. I was impressed at how this couple who has spent over 50 years living among a primitive people could so easily communicate with a group of youth-directors-in-training, who are part of a high-tech, modern world. However, the principles of culture that the Dillingers learned in their work among the Dani are the same principles of culture that today’s student ministry leaders must adapt. I hope at least some of our students realized the privilege they had in hearing from these fountains of wisdom and knowledge yesterday.

In the Dillingers, I met humble unassuming servants of the Lord. They have the work credentials – even making the cover of Time (Dec/1982) – that many in our culture would flash before others in order to get to the front of the line or gain complimentary goodies. But they don’t use their credentials in those ways. I noted in Leon’s chapel presentation that he didn’t communicate “I did” or “we did,” – even though it would have been perfectly normal in our “it’s about me” culture. Instead, always mindful to give the Lord proper priority, he used phrases like, “the Lord worked it out so that . . .”

Lorraine was equally humble (remember, she has worked side by side with Leon reaching the Dani since 1958): In a private conversation about what can be a controversial topic in mission theory, I pressed her for a clarification about their work as it contrasted to something a recognized missiologist said in a seminar I attended recently, and her answer was simply, “What we found was . . .” Even though she obviously disagreed with the other person’s statement and has a lifetime of credentials to support her position, she didn’t throw him under the bus or speak unkindly toward his work. She simply reiterated what she and Leon had experienced among the Dani. I learned much from their demonstration of humility.

Although they no longer live full time among the Dani, their work has not stopped. They continue to visit the Dani regularly, and Leon is working on a set of Bible commentaries in the Dani language. I hope that their complete story (or as much as is possible) can be captured in a book. The historical record of the modern mission movement will have a significant gap if it isn’t.

January 27, 2014

Israel Tour Highlight #137010: Repost

In honor of International Holocaust Day, I re-post this Israel tour highlight.

Working with tour groups in Israel is [almost] always a blessing. It’s exciting to see visitors’ faces when, as they say in Hebrew, “the coin falls.” In other words, when “the light comes on” or the connection between a certain event and place happens. I love to see the joy of discovery, especially as it relates to the Bible. But my groups generally have modern cultural and historical interests, too. Every group is different, and I’m regularly on the look out for things out of the ordinary, not on the itinerary that will make my group’s visit to Israel more special than it might already be. For this group, I found that special historical gem in the breakfast line.

His story lasted longer than I had given him, which I knew it would. But, seeing him standing in the front of the bus and hearing his biography was worth every minute.

Some specific details that pierced my heart:

“I saw, with my own eyes, the soldiers toss little children in the air and shoot them like birds.”

“As people were herded off the trains near the crematoria, they pleaded with the soldiers to know where their children or parents were. The soldiers would point to the smoke rising out of the crematoria and say, ‘there they are.’”

“The people were packed so tightly into the ‘showers’ that when the Zyklon B gas was released they all died standing, and only fell to the ground when the doors were opened. As we removed the bodies, we could see the scratches on the walls where those on the outer edges were trying to claw their way out.”

As a worker at the crematoria, “I collected the fat that came from the bodies as they were burned. The Nazis used the fat to make soap for us prisoners, and I bathed with soap that may have been made from the remains of my parents and other family members.”

January 1, 2014

Words: Improving my use of them

“Words can sometimes be a poor form of communication, but they are the tools that we have to work with.” – Barry Rubin, You bring the bagels I’ll bring the Gospel, 1997:93

I’m jealous of the way certain people use words. They make it look easy to paint a picture with words; beauty seems to simply flow from their keyboards. I know that some people do have a natural flair for communication, but communication with words is also a skill that can be honed into a craft. And those that make it look easy, usually have worked hard at honing their craft.

Some of the suggestions I’ve seen for improving writing skills are to spend significant time reading good writers, and then to write more. A friend once justified the time he invested in reading Sports Illustrated by saying “they have good writers.” I think he was serious and it seems to have helped because he is an effective writer and has been published by others.

So, even though I’m not much of a New-Year’s-Resolution-Type, one of my goals this year is to improve my writing. I have a few writing projects I intend to work on, which include some journal articles and other derivative works from my dissertation.

What are some of your plans for this year?

August 17, 2011

Word Picture of the Day: How Dangerous Can a Fool Be?

Proverbs 17:12 NASB – “Let a man meet a bear robbed of her cubs, Rather than a fool in his folly.”

This Proverb effectively uses a word picture because everybody knows a mama bear is fiercely protective of her cubs and that it is unwise to cross her path when she’s worried about her cub(s). Far fewer people think of fools as being as dangerous as an angry mama bear. However, the Bible warns us that fools are more dangerous than angry bears.

Be careful whose path you cross.

January 6, 2010

Word Picture: Be Careful

“He who passes by and meddles in a quarrel not his own
Is like one who takes a dog by the ears.”
Proverbs 26:17 (NKJV)

October 22, 2009

Arabic: Langauge, Coffee, and Culture

I dropped my daughter off at school at 07:30, ninety minutes before my Arabic class was scheduled to start. I say, “scheduled to start” because we have yet to start on time, or even close to time. Never mind, we usually go over at the end, so I guess I’m getting all I paid for.

I enjoy wandering around the Old City for lots of reasons, but one of them is that I get a chance to use my Arabic as I’m gaining it, little by little.

This time, I was in the Old City earlier than usual and found myself in the company of a friendly man. I told him that I was studying Arabic and he was all too happy to speak (much too fast) to me in Arabic.

The conversation started fairly normally: “Where are you from?” he asked. “Jebal Abu Gneim,” I said, offering the Arabic name of my “settlement.” In my thinking, that’s a little olive branch toward those who might be offended that I live in an area that is considered by many to be stolen land. We were both surprised to discover that we are neighbors: he from Um Tuba, I from Har Homa (Jebal Abu Gneim). Two villages sitting next to each other, one Arab, the other Jewish. One considered native, the other considered a settlement. However, he didn’t seem worked up about where I live. In fact, he was impressed that I know of his village, Um Tuba.

After about 90 seconds of nothing about where we both live, he wanted to know where I’m really from. So, I told him Texas. “Oh, Bush!!!” he gushed. Then, he went into a long discourse, mixing Arabic, Hebrew, and English, according to his assessment of what I was understanding. “Bush has a gold brain, but a black heart” he said with conviction and the assumption that I would understand what that meant. I didn’t. And I just stared back at him with what I thought was the “I have no idea what that means” look. (Unfortunately, it wasn’t until AFTER our conversation that I asked how to say, “I don’t understand” in Arabic.)

I did have an idea that my new friend wasn’t being complementary about President Bush, but I wasn’t certain how badly he thought of the former President. After a few moments of dead time gazing at each other, he said it again, but with less Arabic and more – can I say this? – Hebrew. In this part of the Old City, most men seem to be able to speak Hebrew, but they want to do it in whispers, so that others don’t hear them. I’m totally fine if they speak to me in English, but they tell me (in a whisper, of course) that they are more confident in their Hebrew than their English.

Anyway, he began to use the story of Cain and Abel from the Quran to explain what he meant. Because I didn’t catch “Cain and Abel” in Arabic, he offered them to me in Hebrew, so it took him longer than he had hoped it would to get me on track. “Cain who killed his brother Abel,” he clarified, “also had a gold brain and black heart.” And with that, his assessment of President Bush was finished.

I’m not sure if he felt the freedom to share his assessment of President Bush because we are neighbors, or because I’m learning his language, or simply because I was willing to listen.

I suppose it is open to a variety of interpretations as to exactly what he meant. But, I didn’t pursue it because long ago, I stopped being defensive of the President of the United States, whoever may be President. I don’t see much, if any value in going down that road. I do want to understand better what people mean, and find that Arab men that are older than me often use word pictures that they think will clearly communicate to me, but actually only puzzle me.

After the “gold and black” thing, he insisted we have coffee. Now, I don’t drink coffee. Let me say that again, but more clearly: I DON’T DRINK COFFEE. More than once, I’ve explained to people, “I’m not being modest by saying no; I REALLY don’t like coffee. I don’t like the taste, and it usually burns my tongue.” Well, no matter: out came the thick coffee in the thimble size cups. I went ahead and accepted it since I didn’t really have a choice at that point. I held it for a moment and then took the smallest micro-sip possible, valiantly fought off the natural reaction toward severe bitter tastes, and swallowed the unbelievably rancid brew. After that, I just held the cup in my hand with NO intention whatsoever that it would come near my mouth again. He was happy to see that I enjoyed his coffee, which is to say that I must have had better control of my facial gestures than I thought possible.

He needed to get going, so he bid me a “mah-salami” (“see you later”), but didn’t get away before I had him write his name out for me. I hope to wander over to his village on a Saturday or Sunday to visit. But, I’ll make sure it is time for tea, not coffee.

It seems to me that there are three major currencies among Arab men: coffee, cigarettes, and politics. Unfortunately, I don’t care for any of the three. However, I’m hopeful that my Arabic studies combined with Arab hospitality will give me some good in-roads into this community.

October 4, 2009

Things Kids Say

My 5-year-old daughter does not yet take the Lord’s Supper, so she is very jealous and attentive to all that goes on during that event. In Israel we use matza for the Lord’s Supper, and when it is broken, it comes out in random sizes; some larger, some smaller. This past Friday night, I got a rather large piece of matza, which immediately drew her attention.

“What’s that, Abbah?” she asked. I began to explain, “This is a picture of Jesus – how his body was,” at which point I was interrupted with, “But it doesn’t look like Jesus!”

Clearly, from a 5-year-old’s perspective, she was correct. In fact, her reply caused me to take another look at the broken piece of matza resting in my hand, . . . and to reconsider how I try to communicate important truths to her . . . and to others.

February 10, 2009

Word Picture of the Day

Today’s Word Picture: Splintered Reed of a Staff – 2 Kings 18:21

Look now, you are depending on Egypt, that splintered reed of a staff, which pierces a man’s hand and wounds him if he leans on it! Such is Pharaoh king of Egypt to all who depend on him.

Sennacherib used this wonderful word picture to communicate a very real danger to King Hezekiah.

The staff had a two-fold purpose for the shepherd: to lend support and balance while walking, and to protect the flock against predatory animals. The beauty and brilliance of using this word picture is that it vividly communicates the irony of being injured by that which one depends on for security and stability.

Another irony is that by heeding Sennacherib’s advice to not depend on Egypt, Hezekiah would depend on Yahweh, who is both more stabilizing and secure than even an undamaged staff, and who would ultimately be Sennacherib’s undoing.