Israel Tour Highlight #137010

Beniko Gihon, #137010

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.

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). 

PhD Research Proposal Approved!

I was surprised with good news yesterday: I received official approval of my PhD research proposal. I was also surprised at the relief I felt when I saw that my proposal had been approved.

I submitted the proposal in early May, so I've been waiting on pins and needles almost four months. My adviser let me know that World Cup 2010 would delay the process since all state universities in South Africa were required to adjust their schedules to accommodate the World's largest sporting event. But that didn't make it any easier to wait and wait and wait. 

I've struggled with proceeding very much with my research because I've been afraid that I might need to make some major adjustments to my project framework; and I think struggling with the pressure/desire to move forward (to actually get something done!) but not wanting to go too far is the pressure I felt float away when I received this news.

I was confident in my proposal because I had worked hard on it, refining it several times to meet the guidelines. Also, I had a few qualified friends make helpful comments that improved it's quality. And my adviser, who is supposed to know about this kind of stuff, said it was a very good proposal. 

However, since there was so much riding on the "whims" of people I don't know and my adviser had "warned" me that it's almost automatic for the committee to return proposals, even good ones, with some recommendations to improve the document, the delay was causing me to feel some uncertainty that my work would be satisfactory.

So, I was quite happy to get this notation at the bottom of the evaluation form:

Aanbeveling / Recommendation

That the proposal be approved.

[Dept Head Signature]

Evalueerder / Evaluator: Prof. CJP Niemandt

Does This Count?

A couple of years ago, I attended a media in ministry conference/seminar that attempted to help those who attended understand how to better utilize various media in our ministry efforts.

The conference was divided into two emphases: the philosophical foundations of using media in ministry and the practical "how to" aspects of filming, editing and broadcasting. Overall, the seminars were interesting and helpful, but I think most of those attending would have liked more emphasis on the practical tools.

The conference ended with the the conference professionals presenting us with certificates of completion. As each of us were called to the platform to receive our certificates, the main instructor - I don't remember his name - would say a word of encouragement to or prophesy about the recipient. Admittedly, I was a little uncomfortable with this, but took my turn like the rest, received my diploma and prophesy, which was that I would "become high profile."

Of course "high profile" could mean a host of things, pretty much whatever anyone desires it to mean. So, how does one evaluate the accuracy of a prophecy such as this one?

Here's what happened: After a few friend's giggled at me about the prophecy, I forgot about it. About 2 months ago, I was surprised to get an email from someone in England who I hadn't heard from since 2005. This person wrote that he was prompted to contact me because he had seen me on television in England on a show that is airing around the UK.

At first, I was pretty puzzled that I was on television in the UK since I am generally not in the news and don't do interviews. Was it something to do with baseball in the Jewish Olympics? Perhaps someone had filmed me teaching the Bible on location and somehow that video made it's way onto a Christian television show, I thought. Suddenly, I remembered the prophecy and that I had, in fact, been interviewed at the conference and that I had signed a release form allowing them to use my likeness and/or words in anyway they desired.

I had finally connected the dots: The man who gave the prophecy that I would become "high profile" had used an interview that his crew had previously filmed as part of a show or advertisement being broadcast on Christian television throughout the UK. Honestly, I was happy to figure out how I was appearing on television in the UK, but that left me with other questions.

Here's one of the questions: Is it a legitimate prophecy if he already had my interview "in the can" and knew he could/would use it in a future production that would be broadcast in the UK? (I suspect it is being broadcast elsewhere, too.)

Oh, one more thing: A friend told me on Saturday that I have recently been on Hungarian television. But that broadcast had nothing to do with the media conference.

The Davinci Code in Arabic

I wasn't surprised to see The Davinci Code in Arabic, but I was a little surprised to see that it was published by the Arab Scientific Publishers. Actually, after further consideration, the publisher didn't surprise me.

For the record, there may have never been published a less scientific book than The Davinci Code, and the Arab Scientific Publishers has undermined any shred of scientific credibility with their decision to publish this book.

If you are interested in why I would say that, here is one good resource.

More Tools of the Trade

I recently met a Jewish scribe in the Old City, and here is a picture of his desk. As you can see there are a couple of cups of coffee remnants as well as various shapes/sizes of pens and edging tools. I would like to stand and watch him work, but so far he hasn't agreed.

I was a little surprised at how messy his desk appeared, but was reminded of my own work bench when I was a jeweler. I think people might have been surprised at how messy my bench was considering that I was handling their priceless family treasures.

Here's a photo from 20 years ago:

Hello, God?

During Succot prayers, I noticed this father and son team. The son was praying in the more traditional way: prayer shawl in place, prayer book in front, and facing the Western Wall. The father, on the other hand, appeared to be phoning in his prayer.

Shouldn't it have been the other way around? 

Choosing Thomas

The Dallas Morning News has published a beautiful [video] article Choosing Thomas, which details the heartbreaking and joy giving story of TK and Deidra Laux whose son Thomas was a victim of Trisomy 13.

As a parent who has walked this path, I want to complement the staff of The Dallas Morning News on a wonderful job of presenting this story, capturing the heartache and disappointment and fear that parents feel when faced with the terrible news: "There appear to be some serious problems." The staff also did a wonderful job in capturing the surprising joy that a baby with "serious and fatal problems" brings to his/her parents and family and friends.

As I watched the video and read the accompanying article(s) and journal, I continually thought: This is our story. That's what happened to us.

However, our story was different in that our Abigail Hope didn't survive to birth; she was stillborn. Our story was also complicated by the fact that it took place in Israel, far away from our family and most of our life friends.

We were thankful that there were a few people here who hurt with us, but so many seemed to dismiss our situation as nothing too serious. Perhaps some just didn't know what to say, which is common. But in many cases, it was simply a cultural callousness toward these types of things. At least one person assumed Abigail didn't have a name yet, thus she didn't have "person hood." He was wrong on both counts. Others blindly followed the traditional Jewish thought that a life duration of more than thirty days establishes a human being as a viable person. If a child dies before that time, he is considered to not have lived at all.

The medical community offered no comfort either since they could only think of one thing to say: "TERMINATE NOW!" In fact, the country's expert in 3-D ultrasound and genetic abnormalities was shocking in his callousness: In response to our question regarding the reasonable expectation of length of life for Abigail should she survive to full term, he said, "Not long, but I would hope she wouldn't live one second! Her problems are too severe to want her to live. My advice is to terminate NOW!" Unfortunately, that wasn't his only disaster in bed side manner, but I'm not interested to recount the others here.

"Terminate now," was so foreign to our thoughts, the doctors all thought we had parachuted in from another galaxy. We insisted that we wouldn't even consider killing Abigail, and the doctors looked at us in utter disbelief and disdain. Who were we to be so resistant to their advice? They were the experts; and they know the outcome of these situations. I knew our position was right, but it was nice to hear other parents in our situation agree with us - even three years later: Toward the end of the video report [in a voice over the funeral scenes] Deidre Laux clearly articulated our thoughts: "We didn't not terminate because we were hanging onto some sort of hope there was a medical mistake or there was going to be some some sort of medical miracle. We didn't terminate because he's our son." Because Abigail was our daughter! We loved her, broken body and all; how could we even consider breaking her body more?

Burial is another point at which our story and the Lauxes' diverge. In Israel, most cemeteries are religiously segregated, which is to say that Abigail couldn't be buried in a Jewish or Muslim cemetery, the most abundant cemeteries here. As it turned out, she wasn't welcome to be buried in the evangelical Christian cemetery either, which is a story in itself.

This all happened so fast, and the hospital staff was pressing us for an answer regarding the disposition of the body. Dealing with death, especially that of our own child, in Israel was all new to us. We didn't know to whom to turn. And it was late Thursday afternoon, which is to say that the Sabbath was quickly approaching and things would be shutting down for the weekend. We made a few phone calls, only to reach dead ends or endless stalling, which we understood to be a no without actually saying, "no." Meanwhile, the hospital was pressing for an answer.

Finally, we decided to use the service of the Jewish burial society, who gathers the bodies of all children under the age of 30 days and buries them in an unmarked grave. I guess to their credit, even though they don't consider the children to have genuine person hood, at least they give them a somewhat proper burial.

I recommend this video report to you. If you aren't familiar with the emotions and thoughts and struggles that take place when parents are told, "there are some problems," this report will give you some insight.

If you are struggling with the issue of termination, please watch the video - to the end.

In our days on this road, we leaned heavily on each other, but more heavily upon the Lord: "Hear, O Lord, and be merciful to me! O Lord, be my helper! (Psalm 30:10)” He was, and continues to be.

Fed Ex and Mother's Day

We've had no small amount of trouble with Fed Ex over the last five or so years. Our trouble with them generally revolves around their inability or effort to deliver a package, which typically means our intended recipient ends up going to the Fed Ex facility to gather the package. And this has happened more than once.

However, this time, the ending was a little different.

Colleen ordered some chocolate candies for her mother for Mother's Day. As is her normal practice, she had them sent to her sister's apartment to be hand delivered to her mother.

Colleen has been anxiously tracking the delivery, or non-delivery online. On Wednesday, the driver left a note on my sister in law's door saying that he had been there and would try again the next day. She, in turn, wrote a note for him to leave the box at the manager's office. Thursday: no package. Friday: no package.

By Saturday, Colleen was getting upset since she had paid extra to insure timely delivery. So, she called her sister and asked her to call Fed Ex and check on the whereabouts of said package. Sis went to Fed Ex and waited while the manager searched with no success for a half hour. Finally, he asked her to go home and call him with the tracking number, and said that in the meantime he would find his driver and see what he knew about the package of (probably melted by now Godiva) chocolates.

Sis went home and called back with the information, and the manager presumably got busy searching for the package.

A few hours passed when there was a knock on the door at my sister in law's apartment. She opened the door to find the facility manager standing there holding a plastic bag. Sis was puzzled because she knew the package would not have been shipped in a plastic bag.

The manager said, "I couldn't find the package; it seems that one of our workers might have eaten them, so I went and bought some chocolates for your mother. I have a mother and it's Mother's Day. I'm sure it's important to your mother, so I wanted to take care of this. Also, I'm going to reverse the shipping charges. Have a blessed day."

I don't know the guy's name, but he definitely saved a customer for Fed Ex.

Happy Mother's Day, Memaw. I hope you liked the chocolates, even if they got to you in a weird way. We love you.

BREAKING NEWS: Station IV Has Moved

I interrupt my current programming to bring you this BREAKING NEWS: Station IV on the Via Dolorosa has moved. I repeat, [the entrance to] Station IV on the Via Dolorosa has moved.

Not much has yet been made of this unexplained move. But no doubt thousands upon thousands of pilgrims who have venerated Station IV in its old location are going to be greatly disappointed to find out that they apparently venerated in the wrong location.

It is unclear how this change will affect those pilgrims' reflections on their visit to the Holy Land, particularly their march through the stations of the cross, also known as the Via Dolorosa.

At this time, I have not been able to get an official explanation, but I was able to get a man named Kobi to share his thoughts on this new development: "You might expect these things to move every once in a while, but you never expect it to occur in your own lifetime," he said.

Here is a photo of the old site:


A couple of things to notice in the photo above: First, you can see that the iron gate is chained shut, giving a clear message: Don't come in. Second, you can see that the stone facing with the symbol of the station has been broken away from above the gateway. It has now been placed above the gate at the new entrance.

About 70 feet north of the old location is the new Station IV, sitting immediately next to Station III. Here's a photo with an explanatory overlay:



Notice that the entrance to the new Station IV is immediately to the right of the Station III. You can also see the stone symbol of Station IV above the gateway of the new location. And, it is important to notice that the stones in front of the gate are not yet laid in a semi-circle.

The reason that is important is that, in an effort to protect the pilgrim tourist from scams, the municipality puts special stonework in front of the official stations of the cross. I'm afraid that there may be much confusion in the near future, as long as the old Station IV entrance still has the semi-circle stonework while the new Station IV entrance does not.

For those who are less informed about the stations of the cross, Station III reportedly marks the location where Jesus fell under the weight of his cross the first time.

Station IV reportedly marks the location where Mary saw Jesus go by carrying his cross. Apparently this sight was so intense for her that her feet "melted" into the pavement, and this is commemorated in a mosaic in the church at Station IV, the Armenian Church of Our Lady of the Spasm. (Believe it or not, I didn't make up that name.)

By the way, neither of the events commemorated at Stations III and IV are recorded in the Bible.

And with that, I'll resume my regularly scheduled programming.

I Didn't Expect This

I was out for a little while yesterday doing some prep work for a college group that I will be teaching at the end of this month. Imagine my surprise when I saw this:


No, the olive green patch didn't mysteriously appear over his face after I had taken the picture. I placed it there to "protect" the identify of the teacher. (You never know how certain quarters will react to something so scandalous.) This Israeli soldier - who was a good teacher, I might add - was teaching from this:


In case you don't read Hebrew, it says "New Covenant," which is the New Testament.

I don't know the soldier, so it's possible that he's part of our New Covenant Community, but I'm guessing he's probably not. I know a number of soldiers from our community, so it isn't so uncommon for me to see a soldier carrying a New Testament - even teaching from one - but here is what I didn't expect:


He's teaching a group of "soldiers."

Now, before anyone gets too worked up, he's not trying to convert any of the soldiers. He's giving a history lesson. But I was happy to see that he was actually giving that lesson from the NT and not just listing off a bunch of traditions and tour guide anecdotes.