Hendy Matahelemual

I’m a proud father of three boys. I love them even though they fight often. They compete for their parents’ attention and to prove their dominance over each other.

The rivalry between my sons can quickly become violent. When they fight, I say, “Remember, you are brothers. Hands are for caring, not for hitting. Don’t ever say you hate your brother. You need to care for and protect each other.”

When one of my boys cries after getting hit by the other one, I ask, “Why is your brother crying?” Many times the answer is, “I do not know.” The first reaction is denial.

God asked a similar question to Cain after he murdered his brother, “Where is your brother Abel?” He said, “I do not know. Am I my brother’s keeper?” (Genesis 4:9). Just like my sons, it’s a denial. Maybe Cain considers Abel more a competitor than a brother.

“I do not know. Am I my brother’s keeper?” (Genesis 4:9)

In today’s world, if the question were asked of Travis and Gregory McMichael — “Where is Ahmaud Arbery, your brother?” — maybe the answer would be: “He’s not our brother. We see him as a threat. That’s why we killed him.”

What if the question were asked to Robert Aaron Long, “Where are your sisters? Where are Soon Chung Park, Hyun Jung Grant, Suncha Kim, Yong Ae Yue, Xiaojie Tan, Delaina Yaun and Daoyou Feng?” 

Maybe he would say, “I don’t know. I never considered them my sisters, otherwise I would not have shot and killed them.”

People are being killed, slashed, attacked, mocked, told to “go back where you came from” just because they have different skin tones and eye shapes than people from the dominant culture.

Why is that? Why is there so much hate and fear over these differences? 

Honestly, I don’t know. But I do know we all share the same ancestors. We are the descendants of Adam and Eve, made in the image of God. We are all brothers and sisters.

Recent scientific studies confirm that humans are all more closely related than we have initially thought. Susanna Manrubia, a theoretical evolutionary biologist at the Spanish National Center for Biotechnology, says, “All of [us] carry the genes of your ancestors because we share the [same] ancestors.”

Maybe people forget we are one race called humanity. In these troubled times, followers of Jesus need to speak up against personal and systemic racism and violence. We need to confess our sins and lament with people who are lamenting. It’s time to build bridges of friendship and solidarity across cultures.

The Enemy uses fear to control, oppress, and dominate. Fear of others is a weapon of evil. As believers, we need to dismantle this weapon. We need to break barriers of race and culture, debunk myths, and refute stereotypes.

There is an Indonesian saying, “Tak kenal maka tak sayang,” which translates, “You can’t love someone you don’t know.”

I believe that in every conflict there is an opportunity: to get to know each other better, learn from each other, and be transformed together.

Step out of your comfort zone. Let’s take this opportunity to become brothers and sisters, ones who love regardless of our differences.

Jesus died for us because he loves us. His blood was spilled so we can heal and unite as brothers and sisters. His blood is enough for us all. Let’s do our part so that no more blood of our brothers and sisters is spilled.

Editor’s Note: This article, in its entirety, first appeared in Anabaptist World on April 16, 2021 and is reprinted with permission.

My two boys were excited when we received a puzzle for Christmas. When we opened the present, they could not wait to assemble it. But I knew that finishing a 100-piece-puzzle would be a bit too much for my 3- and 6-year-old boys. I decided to help finish it as a team, and we had fun. 

On my spiritual journey, sometimes I feel like a preschooler finishing a puzzle. There are many complicated areas to figure out as I try to put the teachings of Jesus into practice. Some things I can work out myself, but many others, I can’t understand without help from others. 

A beautiful poem, written by John Godfrey Saxe in 1872, illustrates the problem of thinking we can figure everything out for ourselves. You’ve probably heard of it: “The Blind Men and the  Elephant.” 

Each man touches a different part of the elephant and draws a conclusion based on his limited knowledge. The one who touches a tusk is convinced the elephant is like a spear. Another, feeling the trunk, believes it is like a snake. Yet another, touching the elephant’s knee, says it is like a tree. 

Saxe observes that, “each was partly in the right, and all were in the wrong.” He specifically draws a conclusion about religion — “theologic wars” — from his parable. 

Working and studying together with people who don’t share the same worldview with us will make us see a different perspective. I used to think that Christendom and Western Christianity were the answer to all the world’s problems. Because I grew up as a Christian in Indonesia, where 87% of the population is Muslim, I used to think Western culture was superior to mine. I was desperate for a white, Western savior. 

But then, through a personal transformation, I came to realize Western Christianity and Christendom is far from the answer to all world problems. The answer is Jesus, and he’s not from the West or white or Christian. Seeing Jesus as a marginalized, non-dominant-culture person helped me realize how close Jesus is to my suffering as a minority. It turns out I don’t need a white savior. I just need Jesus. 

God created each of us in his image. And God created each of us unique. This combination of similarity and difference brings strength to the body of Christ. Coming from different nations, tribes, and cultures, sometimes we see things the same, sometimes differently. 

But not one of us can see everything. To see God’s big picture, we need to work together. We need to have a deeper conversation with believers who have different worldviews from our own. We need to respect and celebrate these differences as we journey together. We need to worship, eat and read the Scriptures together. 

Editor’s Note: This article, in its entirety, first appeared in Anabaptist World on March 16, 2021 and is reprinted with permission.

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” says Juliet in William Shakespeare’s, Romeo and Juliet.

Names have meaning because they reveal our identity. Why does the right name matter? Can changing names change your identity? Confucius once said, “The beginning of wisdom is to call things by their proper name.”

In 1967, in Indonesia, the country where I was born, the government suggested all people of Chinese-Indonesian descent change their name to an Indonesian name. Though officially just a suggestion, in reality it was a type of forced assimilation, intended to eliminate ethnic Chinese identity.

Most Indonesian Chinese families have two names even today — one for themselves and their family and another for government identification purposes.

My parents named me Hendy after my grandfathers, Hendrik and Eddy, typically European names. My last name comes from an Ambonesse name, which is my ethnic origin from my father’s side.

There was a time when I was ashamed of my last name. I never used it; it felt too ethnic and different, not as common as Indonesian and European names. Instead I used my middle name, Stevan, which is more European and culturally acceptable.

After I studied more about intercultural work, I felt a need to get in touch with my family name again. I felt that I had a revelation to use my last name. I believe my name has a story, and I want to know more about it.

Cultural assimilation occurs in all parts of the world. But unity is not uniformity. Uniqueness is not division.

Although the dominant culture pressures us to conform, I believe God created us uniquely. We don’t need to conform to any dominant culture but be transformed into God’s image. I believe God is against cultural homogeneity and ethnocentrism. No culture or ethnicity is better than another. We are equally broken and equally beautiful.

God scattered the people who built the tower of Babel because they wanted to make a society in their own image, governed by their own standards. They were proud of it and wanted to make a name for themselves.

It takes the work of Jesus on the cross to redeem the fallen nature of human beings. It takes the power of the Holy Spirit to enable us to communicate cross-culturally.

In the Old Testament we see the changing of names for the purpose of cultural assimilation. Hananiah, Mishael and Azaria had to change their Hebrew names to Chaldean names: Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego. In the New Testament it was common for a Jew to have two names, one Hebrew and one Greek. In fact, the Apostle Paul never changed his name: Saul was a Hebrew name; Paul was a Greek name.

As I prepared this article I did some research on the meaning of my last name. Previously I didn’t know what Matahelemual meant. It was not easy to find the answer. I had to check with relatives who know the Ambonesse language. Finally, I got a verifiable answer: Matahelemual means Open Door. I’m grateful to know that, and I feel as if God has given me a new name.

There are names given by humans and names given by God. The name given by God is the name that will lead us to God’s promises. God changed Abram’s name to Abraham, Sarai’s to Sarah, Jacob’s to Israel and Simon’s to Peter. Through those names God gave new beginnings, new hopes, new blessings. A name is a prayer. What’s in your name?

A version of this article first appeared in “Anabaptist World” on December 15, 2020.