Wednesday, March 20, 2024

IT HAPPENED ON A BROOKLYN SUBWAY

by Paul Deutschman

There are two different explanations of what happened as the result of a subway ride taken by Hungarian-born Marcel Sternberger on the afternoon of January 10, 1948.

Some people will say that Sternberger ’s sudden impulse to visit a sick friend  in Brooklyn - and the bright world of dramatic events that followed - was part of a string of lucky coincidences. Others will see the guiding hand of divine providence in everything that happened that day.

But whatever the explanation, here are the facts: Sternberger, a New York portrait photographer living in a Long Island suburb, has followed for years an unchanging routine in going from his home to his office on Fifth A venue.

A methodical man of nearly fifty, with bushy white hair, guileless brown eyes, and the bouncing enthusiasm of a czardas dancer of his native Hungary, he always took the 9:09 Long Island Railroad train from his suburban home to Woodside, New York, where he caught a subway into the city.

On the morning of January 10, 1948, Sternberger boarded the 9:09 as usual. En route, he suddenly decided to visit Laszlo Victor, a Hungarian friend who lived in Brooklyn and was ill.

At Ozone Park, Sternberger changed to the subway for Brooklyn, went to his friend’s house, and stayed until mid-afternoon. He then boarded a Manhattan-bound subway for his Fifth Avenue office. Here is Marcel’s incredible story:

The car was crowded, and there seemed to be no chance of a seat. But just as I entered, a man sitting by the door suddenly jumped up to leave, and I slipped into the empty place.  I’ve been living in New York long enough not to start conversations with strangers. But being a photographer, I have the peculiar habit of analyzing people’s faces, and I was struck by the features of the passenger on my left. He was probably in his late thirties, and when he glanced up, his eyes seemed to have a hurt expression in them. He was reading a Hungarian-language newspaper, and something prompted me to say in Hungarian, “I hope you don’t mind if I glance at your paper.”

The man seemed surprised to be addressed in his native language. But he answered politely, “You may read it now. I’ll have time later on.”

During the half-hour ride to town, we had quite a conversation. He said his name was Bela Paskin. A law student when World War II started, he had been put into a German labor battalion and sent to the Ukraine. Later he was captured by the Russians and put to work burying the German dead. After the war, he covered hundreds of miles on foot until he reached his home in Debrecen, a large city in eastern Hungary.

I myself knew Debrecen quite well, and we talked about it for a while. Then he told me the rest of his story. When he went to the apartment once occupied by his father , mother, brothers, and sisters, he found strangers living there. Then he went upstairs to the apartment he and his wife once had. It also was occupied by strangers. None of them had ever heard of his family.

As he was leaving, full of sadness, a boy ran after him, calling “Paskin bacsi! Paskin  bacsi!” That means “Uncle Paskin.” The child was the son of some old neighbors of his. He went to the boy’s home and talked to his parents. “Your whole family is dead,” they told him. “The Nazis took them and your wife to Auschwitz.”

Paskin gave up all hope. A few days later, too heartsick to remain any longer in Hungary, he set out again on foot, stealing across border after border until he reached Paris. He managed to immigrate to the United States in October 1947, just three months before I met him.

All the time he had been talking, I kept thinking that somehow his story seemed familiar. A young woman I had met recently at the home of friends had also been from Debrecen; she had been sent to Auschwitz; from there she had been transferred to work in a German munitions factory. Her relatives had been killed in the gas chambers. Later, she was liberated by the Americans and was brought here in the first boatload of displaced persons in 1946.

Her story had moved me so much that I had written down her address and phone number, intending to invite her to meet my family and thus help relieve the terrible emptiness in her life.

It seemed impossible that there could be any connection between these two people, but as I neared my station, I fumbled anxiously in my address book. I asked in what I hoped was a casual voice, “Was your wife’s name Marya?”

He turned pale. “Yes!” he answered. “How did you know?”

He looked as if he were about to faint.

I said, “Let’s get off the train.” I took him by the arm at the next station and led him to a phone booth. He stood there like a man in a trance while I dialed her phone number.

It seemed hours before Marya Paskin answered. (Later I learned her room was alongside the telephone, but she was in the habit of never answering it because she had so few friends and the calls were always for someone else. This time, however, there was no one else at home and, after letting it ring for a while, she responded.)

When I heard her voice at last, I told her who I was and asked her to describe her husband. She seemed surprised at the question, but gave me a description. Then I asked her where she had lived in Debrecen, and she told me the address.

Asking her to hold the line, I turned to Paskin and said, “Did you and your wife live on such-and-such a street?”

“Yes!” Bela exclaimed. He was white as a sheet and trembling.

“Try to be calm,” I urged him. “Something miraculous is about to happen to you. Here, take this telephone and talk to your wife!”

He nodded his head in mute bewilderment, his eyes bright with tears. He took the receiver, listened a moment to his wife’s voice, then suddenly cried, “This is Bela! This is Bela!” and he began to mumble hysterically. Seeing that the poor fellow was so excited he couldn’t talk coherently, I took the receiver from his shaking hands.

“Stay where you are,” I told Marya, who also sounded hysterical. “I am sending your husband to you. We will be there in a few minutes.”

Bela was crying like a baby and saying over and over again. “It is my wife. I go to my wife!”

At first I thought I had better accompany Paskin, lest the man should faint from excitement, but I decided this was a moment in which no strangers should intrude. Putting Paskin into a taxicab, I directed the driver to take him to Marya’s address, paid the fare, and said good-bye.

Bela Paskin’s reunion with his wife was a moment so poignant, so electric with suddenly released emotion, that afterward neither he nor Marya could recall much about it.

“I remember only that when I left the phone, I walked to the mirror as in a dream to see if maybe my hair had turned gray,” she said later. “The next thing I know, a taxi stops in front of the house, and it is my husband who comes toward me. Details I cannot remember; only this I know - that I was happy for the first time in many years.

“Even now it is difficult to believe that it happened. We have both suffered so much. I have almost lost the capability to not be afraid. Each time my husband goes from the house, I say to myself, Will anything happen to take him from me again?”

Her husband is confident that no horrible misfortune will ever again befall them. “Providence has brought us together,” he says simply. “It was meant to be.”

Skeptical persons will no doubt attribute the events of that memorable afternoon to mere chance. But was it chance that made Marcel Sternberger suddenly decide to visit his sick friend and hence take a subway line he had never ridden before?  Was it chance that caused the man sitting by the door of the car to rush out just as Sternberger came in? Was it chance that caused Bela Paskin to be sitting beside Sternberger, reading  a Hungarian newspaper?

Was it chance - or did God ride the Brooklyn subway that afternoon?

(Taken from  Do You Believe in Miracles? Copyright © 1997, 2012 by John Van Diest Published by Harvest House Publishers)

Sunday, August 08, 2021

US STREET PREACHER ARRESTED IN LONDON SAYS SPEAKING TRUTH IS NOW A ‘HATE CRIME’

After facing arrest and detention for preaching that homosexuality is a sin, an American evangelist is warning that “things are getting very bad” in the United Kingdom and other Western countries, suggesting that the situation has deteriorated to the point where they are “becoming communist.” Ryan Schiavo, who describes himself as an “evangelist and missionary,” was arrested in London on July 22 for preaching that homosexuality is a sin. While Schiavo is an American, he spends a considerable amount of time in London and frequently ministers to British youth and others gathered in the public square. In an interview with The Christian Post, Schiavo recounted the events leading up to his arrest and warned about its implications for free speech and freedom of religion in the U.K. and Western civilization as a whole. “I was preaching the Gospel on the streets as I frequently do, but it was about a 30-minute message, and in the course of a long message I can touch on many topics that I believe are pertinent,” he said. “At one point, I talked about the issue of homosexuality and transgenderism. I said that homosexuality is a sin; I talk about how it’s destructive, and the damage the transgender agenda is doing to children right now in the schools because it’s being pushed on children at a very young age here.” Read the full story here

Monday, August 02, 2021

Needed Problems

Source: Unknown
Years ago, I wrote this aphorism: The messes in life are my best teachers; I don’t like them, but I need them. I could have called them problems, disruptions, adversities, or any other negative word.

I don’t like dealing with problems. I wish they didn’t interrupt my life, but I need them.

So do all of us.

We need them because the painful, unwanted, intrusive events in life push us to re-examine ourselves and to make changes. As long as we’re doing all right, we ignore the things we don’t like. It takes the heartaches and anguish to make us stop, ponder, and sometimes take action. 

Before I can accept those unwanted motivations, I’ve learned to ask myself one question. “What's going on inside me that makes me need this problem?” If those hard times had no purpose, I’d probably fall into despair. Just to ask the question acknowledges that the situation is bigger than my new disruption. 

Everyone won’t ask the question, and many don’t have the courage to listen for the answer. If we’re committed to growth, it’s a significant question, even if we don’t grasp the reason.

Here’s how I see this. My wise, loving God knows what I need to take the next forward step. By asking the question, I can make the most of those uninvited elements.

Even if I don’t get answers, I’ve stepped toward deeper understanding about life. I also know that I’m more open to embrace the adversities of life. 

By seeking to understand the hard times, or at least to accept them as nudges toward maturity, I become stronger and more able to handle the next situation—and it will likely be worse.

by Cecil Murphey

 

Saturday, June 05, 2021

The Parents' House

www.countryliving.com
It's the only house where you can go to dozens of times without an invitation.

The only house where you can put the key in the door and enter directly.

The house that has loving eyes that stare at the door until they see you.

The house which reminds you of your care-free days, stability and your happiness during your chîldhood.

The house in which your presence and look at your mother’s and father’s faces is for you a bliss and your conversation with them is a reward.

The house that if you do not go, the hearts of its owners will shrink, and if you hurt them,  they will be angry.

The house in which two candles were burnt to light up the world and fill your life with happiness and joy.

The house where the dining table is pure for you and has no hypocrisy.

The house that if the food time arrives and you don't eat, the hearts of its owners will be broken and annoyed.

The house that offers you all the laughs and happiness.

Oh children, find out the value of these houses before it's too late.

Lucky are those who have their parent’s house to go to!

Wednesday, January 13, 2021

40 WRESTLERS FOR CHRIST

Image: vectorstock.com
In the days of Nero, the Emperor of Rome, there was a band of elite soldiers known as the “The Emperor’s Wrestlers.” These men were the best athletes in the Roman amphitheater, and the bravest soldiers in all of the Roman army. They wrestled for the Emperor against all who challenged them. Before each contest they would stand before the Emperor’s throne and cry out,“We, the wrestlers, wrestling for thee, O Emperor, to win for thee the victory and from thee the victor’s crown.”

One year, in mid-winter, there was a rebellion waged in Gaul (modern-day France), the Emperor sent for his wrestlers and told them to go to Gaul to end the war that was raging on. This brave group of wrestlers left Rome under the command of Vespasian. 

While in Gaul rumors spread to Rome that many of the Emperor’s Wrestlers had become Christians. When news of this reached Nero, the Emperor, he sent a message to Vespasian, and made this decree; “If there be any among your soldiers who cling to the faith of the Christian, they must die!”

It was in the dead of winter that Vespasian received the message while his soldiers were camped beside a frozen lake in Gaul. Vespasian assembled his troops and asked, “Are there any among you who cling to the faith of the Christians? If so, let him step forward.”

Forty soldiers instantly stepped forward two paces, saluted and stood at attention. Vespasian was stunned! He had not expected any to step forward. Vespasian said, “Until sundown I shall give you time to recant and to deny your faith.”

At sundown the soldiers were again assembled together and Vespasian asked: “Who still clings to the Christian faith, even if it means death?”

Again 40 soldiers stepped forward and stood at attention. Vespasian pleaded with them to deny their faith, but not one soldier would deny Christ.

Vespasian did not want these men he loved, respected, who fought side to side together, die at the hands of their fellow wrestlers, so he had them strip naked. Vespasian reluctantly said, “The decree of the Emperor must be obeyed, so you shall stand out on the frozen lake, exposed to the elements until you freeze to death. Should you recant and deny Christ, the fire will remain burning on shore, and by returning to the shelter of the fire, you will be denouncing Christ and you shall live.”

The forty soldiers stripped off their clothing, fell into four columns of ten each, and marched towards the center of the frozen lake to their death. But as they marched onto the ice, they chanted, “Forty wrestlers, wrestling for thee O Christ, to win for thee the victory and from thee the victor’s crown.”

All night long Vespasian stood by his campfire and watched those forty brave wrestlers out on the ice as they slowly succumbed to the elements. As they grew weaker and weaker, their chanting grew fainter and fainter, “Forty wrestlers, wrestling for thee O Christ, to win of thee the victory and from thee the victor’s crown.” 

As morning drew near, one wrestler, no longer able to stand the freezing cold, walked off the ice and came to the edge of the fire, renouncing Christ. Vespasian could hear faintly from the frozen lake, “Thirty-nine wrestlers, wrestling for thee O Christ, to win for thee the victory and from thee the victor’s crown.”

Vespasian, standing by the fire all night, was thinking. As he stood there God touched his heart. Vespasian slowly removed his cloak, helmet and armor and calmly walked down upon the frozen lake to join his men, and as he walked, he chanted:

“Forty wrestlers, wrestling for thee O Christ, to win for thee the victory and from thee the victor’s crown.”

Author Unknown

Thursday, December 10, 2020

Touched My Heart

In a telephone interview, the radio announcer asked his guest, a millionaire, "What made you happiest in life?"

The millionaire said: I have gone through four stages of happiness in life and finally I understood the meaning of true happiness.

The first stage was to accumulate wealth and means. But at this stage I did not get the happiness I wanted.

Then came the second stage of collecting valuables and items. But I realized that the effect of this thing is also temporary and the lustre of valuable things does not last long.

Then came the third stage of getting big projects. Like buying a football team, buying a tourist resort, etc. But even here I did not get the happiness I had imagined.

The fourth time a friend of mine asked me to buy a wheelchair for some disabled children. At a friend's request, I immediately bought a wheelchair. But the friend insisted that I go with him and hand over the wheelchairs to the children. I got ready and went with it.

There I gave these chairs to these children with my own hands. I saw the strange glow of happiness on the faces of these children. I saw them all sitting on chairs, moving around and having fun. It was as if they had arrived at a picnic spot.

But I felt real joy when I started to leave and one of the kids grabbed my leg. I gently tried to free my legs but the child stared at my face and held my legs tightly. I bent down and asked the child: Do you need anything else? The answer that this child gave me not only made me happy but also changed my life completely.

This child said: "I want to remember your face so that when I meet you in heaven, I will be able to recognize you and thank you once again" I realised that touching people's lives brings the ultimate joy. It leaves an impact on both lives theirs and yours.

Which stage of joy are you now?

Monday, September 28, 2020

God Without Man

Courtesy: www.gulfbreezerecovery.com


When God wanted to create fish, He spoke to the sea.

When God wanted to create trees, He spoke to the earth.

But when God wanted to create man, He turned to Himself.

Then God said: "Let us make man in our image and in our likeness."

If you take a fish out of the water it will die; and when you remove a tree from soil, it will also die. Likewise, when man is disconnected from God, he dies. God is our natural environment. We were created to live in His presence. We have to be connected to Him because it is only in Him that life exists.

Let's stay connected to God. We recall that water without fish is still water but fish without water is nothing.

The soil without tree is still soil but the tree without soil is nothing. God without man is still God but man without God is nothing.

(Author Unknown)

 

Wednesday, March 25, 2020

A Modern 23rd Psalm by Halley Low



The television is my shepherd, I shall not want.
It makes me to lie down on the sofa,
It leads me to mindless waters,
It destroys my soul;
It guides me in the paths of immorality
For the sponsor's sake.

Yet, though I walk in the shadows of my
Christian responsibilities,
I fear no distractions
For the wide screen television mesmerizes me;
Its cable and remote,
They comfort me.
It prepares endless commercials before me
In the presence of my carnality;
It anoints my head with consumerism;
My coveting overflows.

Surely laziness and greed shall follow me
All the days of my life,
And I shall dwell in the vacuum
Of television land forever.

© 2004 Halley Low