On Being Christian

September 13

I know that people people think I'm critical of Judea-Christianity.  In fact, I like the ideals behind it. The turn the other cheek, love one another as yourself idea.  It's just that I'm such a radical feminist that the idea of blindly following a religion that tells me I can't just go straight to God with my issues and has been distilled through men's eyes, men's ears, men's writing, etc....leaves me with a jaundiced eye. 

I know Catholics who use birth control, Jews who love BLT sandwiches and Muslims who think that kneeling five times a day to God is uncomfortable.  I also know Fundamentalists, that have told me I'm doomed to Hell for eternity, Witness' who turn their backs on their children when the children need them most and Sunni who tell me that anyone who is not of their religion are just walking meat. 

What I hate is hypocrisy. 

Now and again, (more often than not lately) someone will come along that reminds me of the good in religion.  Who takes their Faith and gives it their heart.  This is portrayed in their actions, their words, their demeanour.  The Mountain Man works with one such man. 

His name is Henry (his name is changed to protect his identity) and he is ancient.  Henry retired a few years ago but still works part-time.  Since you are not allowed to read, listen to the radio or any other occupation that might break down your alertness, the trip in the back of the truck to Montreal is incredibly boring.  So Henry teaches MM Dutch (swear)words, (drinking) songs and stories and he tells him about life under German occupation during WW11. 

One story he told impressed my Mountain Man so much, he told it to me.  I didn't get the perfect details but the core of the story is so scary and wonderful that I thought others would like it.

This is Henry's story.

When the Germans first invaded their village, Henry was very small.  So small, in fact that his sister and he were able to hide under his mothers skirts.  Apparently the habit for the Germans was to round up everyone in the village, take the men away to work camps and leave the women in the village.  Most Dutch citizens took their last glimpse of husbands, lovers, sons and brothers during these frightening moments.   

We've all seen the movies, we've had the heartbreak, we know the terror of these evil moments of history in black and white.  I am very impressed with a mom who has the courage to stand up to soldiers with weapons and hide her children under her skirts.  A woman who took a chance and hid her children in the face of her own death should she be discovered.  If that wasn't enough, the end of the story really impressed me.

At the end of the war, the Germans were bugging out, fleeing from the Allied forces.  There was one German soldier who had been kind to the woman and her children.  He was a German but everyone knows that while an opposing army is evil as a whole, within it are regular people who are there against their will, to serve their country and to do their duty.  They are also someone sons, brothers etc....

The German soldier approached Henry's mom and asked for some of Henry's fathers clothes.  He hoped to slip out of Holland and into Germany under cover.  She gave them to him, with food and water and her prayers.

What courage that must have taken!!!  Should he be discovered by the villagers, she would have surely had to face a mob looking for retribution.  At the very least, she could be condemned as a collaborator and shot.  She was helping one of the very people who had held her and her country captive for years!!!!

Yet, she gave him the clothes.  Why?

The answer to this is simple, according to Henry.  She was a Christian.  Vengeance is Gods.

So she let God sort them out.

It was the right thing to do and that's all that mattered.  Could we make the same choice?  I hope so but I'm such a bad tempered spirit when it comes to anyone who hurts what's mine, I honestly don't know.  I do know that to this day, Henry worries that any Dutch who hears his story will think that his mother was a traitor.  I don't and I don't know anyone who would.  Don't want to know them.  

You have to admire someone who puts what's right before themselves.  To me that makes a hero, no matter what "side" they are on.

The German soldier never made it back to Germany.  He was shot by the German's themselves when they discovered his ruse.  

If that soldier had anything in his soul or had done anything to deserve vengeance, well then, God took it through his own people.  Henry's mom however should get sparkly wings and a pink halo. 

As for me, I couldn't help it.  One of the first things I thought of when Doug told me the story was, "Didn't Dutch women wear shortened skirts in the early 30's?"  There is a fashion point in every story.

Kimberley