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Perfect Love Casts out Fear

by Traute Klein, biogardener

Memories of childhood horrors had left me with a fear of the language which I heard spoken during the war, but the love of a Russian woman drove out that fear.

Torturous Childhood Memories

I thought I would never watch another war movie or news report again, because the memory of war upsets me too much. The scenes which I see are not historical documents to me. I have lived through the horrors. The images on the screen are real. When the movie, "Das Boot" (The Boat), played in theatres, my friends were surprised that I did not go to see it. It is the award-winning story of a German submarine in World War II. When the movie played on TV one evening, my husband decided to watch it in bed, and I was too tired to stay up until it was over. Yes, I enjoyed the excellent German which was spoken, but, as expected, I fell asleep after the opening scene.

Just as the final scene was playing, I woke up with a start, bathed in cold sweat and shaking. World War II air raid sirens were screaming and bombs were falling. Those sounds had not bothered me all these 50 years since I had first heard them, because I had avoided everything that could have reminded me of them.

Language Associations

One fear, however, has been with me continually since March 10, 1945, when I first heard the sound of the Russian language. The city of Danzig in which we had been stranded during our flight to the west was invaded by the Russian army, and I do not intend ever to elaborate on the scenes which followed. It is natural to associate a language with the experience in which it was first heard, and that is an experience which I cannot remember without paralyzing fear.

Living in a multilingual society in Canada, I hear many languages daily. It took me years to dissociate the sound of the Ukrainian language from that of the Russian. My father was born in what is now Ukraine, and I count Ukrainian-Canadians among my best friends. I just had to get used to the sound of their language.

But Russian? In vain have I tried to be friends with Russian people. The sound of their language has always caused me agony. I associate it with indiscriminate shootings, with rape, and with drunken rage. How could I ever get over the memories of the Russian invasion?

Perfect love . . .

Well, according to the words of Jesus

There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.
— John 4:18

And that is what happened to me.

. . . casts our fear.

The first time I saw the Cartys in June 1999, the family had taken refuge in Mission Baptist Church (Missionsgemeinde) to avoid being broken up by Canada Immigration. The pastor of this predominantly German church had called for a prayer meeting to ask for guidance and protection. At the end of the meeting, most of us were standing around the Cartys in the front of the church. My heart went out to them. "Someone give Elena a hug!" is all I could think. I was standing right next to her, and I gave her the hug she so desperately needed. Others joined me.

I saw the family frequently in the two months which followed, before they left for Mexico. I started teaching their daughter Elizabeth piano in the refuge of that church to give her active mind something to work on other than worry. I have written about the experience in "Fresh Air for Elizabeth."

Deliverance at last

Elena Carty is Russian. She met and married her Peruvian husband while they were both students in Kiev. During my many visits at the church, I heard Elena speak Russian to her husband. It never occurred to me that they were speaking the language which had evoked fear in me for the last 54 years.

It was another TV movie which showed me that I had finally been delivered from that fear. Again my husband was watching a film, this time in Russian, and for the first time in our marriage, I made no attempt at stopping him or at leaving the room. I did not even notice what language was spoken. The sound evoked no reaction.

The love that I hold for my Russian friend, Elena, has cast out the fear for good.

P.S.

This not just a story of deliverance from fear, it is also a story of forgiveness. The ability to forgive a deep hurt is not an act of the will, at least it was not in this case. It came to me as a gift of God.