Dachau

Sheep or Wolves?

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Back when I still lived in Seattle I began to put together a teaching block that was entitled “Sheep 2 Wolves.” This basic premise was that the Bible called God’s people sheep, because it really spoke to a latent sheep reality, not God’s design, or his will for the church, or for humanity in general.

When I began to question people about being called sheep. The response was pretty much totally sheepish. Put in more specific terms the response went something like, “My life is decent, my material needs are met. I have a little money left over to do some personal things. I don’t want to do anything that would upset the moderate level of security I have made for myself and my family.”

Over the years I have asked a number of people variations of the question, “What will you do if tomorrow turns out to be significantly different than today?” One of the first times was during a visit to New York City during my schooling while in the military. The retired couple I had the opportunity to stay with was living in a rent-controlled apartment in Brooklyn. When I asked a variation of that question their response was simply, that type of change is impossible — we refuse to look at that possibility.

When stationed in Augsburg, Germany, it was the closest and most accessible American garrison to the Dachau concentration camp. After visiting the very sanitized remains, the place was still ominously oppressive. As a result, I began to read from the post library, materials about the holocaust and the motivation, or lack thereof, that allowed so many Jews to become sheep led to slaughter. In this literature terms like “living dead” became almost mundane.

Many years later I learned that one of my uncles that fought in World War II was among the first liberators of the camp. So I decided to give him a visit to see if I could get him to give me some details of what he saw and learned at Dachau. Since I am the only veteran amongst all of the Miller grandkids, and using my best spy training, I attempted to get him to talk about this experience. After a couple of excursions through the military and specific efforts to bring that travel to Bavaria, as close as I could get was the front gate of the camp. From there we were instantly transported back to Harrington, Washington, and discussions about pruning apple trees.
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