17 September 2010

"She didn't shout. She didn't plead. She didn't have to. Holding the podium to keep her balance, her eyes gleamed. She spoke of forgiving her tormentors who perpetrated horror beyond belief."

ANOTHER LOOK: Patrick Butler

Not many who came out of the Nazi death camps of World War II could smile and forgive. Since the Jewish New year, Rosh Hashana just passed and Yom Kippur 2010 starts at sundown tonight, perhaps now would be a good time to recall the faith of Jew-hider, Corrie ten-Boom of Holland.

Corrie ten-Boom's faith passed the test of horrors in the shadow of death. Her's is a faith-in-God story no one should be unaware of, or miss. The poignant tale of the ten-Boom family who accepted the consequences of helping and hiding Jews in Holland during the Nazi madness, reveals their motivation from a sense of obligation to, and love for, Christ.

The ten-Booms tried to make amends for - and within - their own generation directly in the face of the most intense evil of the 20th century. Today we would call that, "Making a Difference." But this family paid for their compassion, courage and convictions with their lives without killing anyone. Does that type of faith live today?

The world only knows what happened because Corrie barely lived to tell about it. She escaped death in the soulless Ravensbruck because of a simple clerical error while hundreds of others - including her sister Betsy -perished before her eyes. Corrie's father, mother and brother all died in other camps at Nazi hands.

Corrie spent the remainder of her life traveling the world to speak about her experiences and how she escaped the real prison of bitterness, until death silenced her solitary mission in 1983.

I ran into this unimposing giant once, in 1976. I confess I didn't know much about her then. I brushed by true greatness only to realize later what I 'd come in contact with. Perhaps such is the nature of true greatness.

I was living in the Netherlands, working with Europe's youth that were strung out on French-connection heroin or inundated by rampant Amsterdam hedonism. Corrie still lived in nearby Haarlam where "the hiding place" where her family hid Jews, existed.

Corrie came to speak one night at our little group that lived on a large, old houseboat floating in the canal at Steiger 14 right behind Amsterdam's Centraal Train Station.

I didn't know as she spoke, that the Centraal Sation I could see through the window was where the Nazi death train had taken Corrie and Betsy to Ravensbruck. It was also where Corrie would eventually return, and then on to Haarlam to live a solitary life with her memories and her God.

Oh, and she would have a world-wide speaking ministry on trusting Christ in all circumstances. Do you think she had the spiritual authority to urge us to have that trust? What have we gone through today, comparatively, that gives us the spiritual weight to say, "Trust God in all things?"

As she spoke, at first all I saw was a kindly old lady who wore her hair up in a bun and smiled a lot. She was very pleasant, I thought, but not what I'd describe as dynamic - not in speech or appearance. How wrong I was.

My Dutch friends called her, "Aunt Corrie," and that's how she seemed; the aunt who baked cookies after school for you and your friends. But there was nothing basic about Corrie ten-boom.

I soon saw that "Aunt" Corrie spoke softly and carried a big spiritual stick. As she explained the path of life-threatening decisions her family made to help the persecuted, sealing their ultimate fates, she exuded the quiet authority and sureness that comes from a lifetime of seeking God in the most desperate circumstances.

She didn't shout. She didn't plead. She didn't have to.

Holding the podium to keep her balance, her eyes gleamed. Amazingly, I thought, she was not bitter, cranky or recalcitrant. Spoke of forgiving her tormentors who perpetrated horror beyond belief. One prison guard even came to her house for dinner years later.

As I listened to her soft yet determined voice, realization came that what she had done was something far beyond my own ability. But Aunt Corrie insisted we could do it anyway through faith in Christ Jesus. I began to admire this older woman who spoke so well across the "generation gap" as they called the break between y0uth and adults back then.

But I yet recall, vividly, the embarrassment I felt at the end of her talk, when she held up a flashlight and told us to go into all the world, "let our light shine before men." She flipped the flashlight switch and...nothing happened.

"That's funny," she said., looking perplexed. "It worked before."

I felt so sorry for her. I so wanted the low-tech sermon illustration to work for this sweet old lady. The small crowd of about 60 held their breaths too, because her sermon now seemed spoiled.

"I can't imagine what's wrong," she said, with a questioning glance, unscrewing the the top and looking inside. Then she did it.

"Ah," she said, "here's the problem," and took out a ten-guilder note - about $5 U.S.D from the flashlight.

"The love of money will prevent the light from reaching the world," she said, holding the bill up high for all to see.

Replacing the top, she flipped the flashlight switch again, and the light came out all over the astonished audience, who reacted with laughter and applause.

"See, it works perfectly," Corrie said, with such a powerful smile, it still penetrates my mind 30 years and 8,000 miles away.

At that moment, I realized that no one in the world had to feel sorry for Corrie ten-Boom. She knew exactly what she was doing.

Her strength was not her own and this simple Dutch woman lived her life acting on what she believed to be the fullest. It was a highlight of my life to in the room with her.

Her story is told in the book, "The Hiding Place" which is also a feature film by the same name. The professional Ballet Magnificat troupe of Mississippi that came to Texas in 2009, has also translated the Hiding Place story into a contemporary ballet.

Yet many people today still don't know who Corrie ten-Boom is, what she stood for or why we should remember her. She is an icon of the best in "regular folk," what people could and did do when challenged to the core of their religious beliefs, coming through without strife, bitterness or anger.

Here is an illustration of living faith in a true, living God - an anti-Holocaust story, if you will - that should never be forgotten. It is definitely worth another look.

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