Righteous In Deed
A Wisconsin couple commit their lives to fighting Christian anti-Semitism.
ELIZABETH APPLEBAUM
Associate Editor
G
ini Detry was raised in a
devoutly Catholic home,
attended Catholic schools
for years, and hoped to
become a nun. Yet, for most of her life
she knew nothing of the Bible.
Then in 1980, her daughter was
scheduled for surgery and Detry began
to pray, and to turn to God, and to
read the Bible. What she discovered
would change her life forever.
"I found out so many things I'd
never been taught," she says. She
learned that God has a covenant with
the Jewish people, that Jews have a
biblical claim to the land of Israel,
that gentiles are obligated to show
unconditional love and respect for
God's chose _ n people.
She also learned about the Christ-
ian church's history of anti-Semitism.
"As I read, I began to see the role
the church had in the Holocaust, in
the Crusades, which as I child I had
thought were so glorious and wonder-
ful, in the Inquisition and in the
pogroms; that in fact some of the
church leaders, like Martin Luther,
had been the worst anti-Semites,"
Detry says.
But Gini Detry is not a woman
content with just an education. Don't
just pray for the peace of Jerusalem,
she says, quoting Psalm 122:6, do
something about it. And so she did.
Detry and her husband, Kip, are
the founders and leaders of Isaiah 40,
a Wisconsin-based organization dedi-
cated to fighting hatred, especially
anti-Semitism, in the church. Their
constant travels around the world —
in one breath they talk about speaking
at a Navajo reservation before heading
off to Beverly Hills, Calif., where they
stayed with a Hollywood producer —
brought the couple to metro Detroit
this week.
Kip Detry, wearing a pin with flags
of Israel and the United State s , is the
more quiet of the pair. He was raised
Lutheran, then spent most of his adult
life running a family bicycle business.
But he sold the business after Gini
became terribly ill.
Five years ago, she was diagnosed
12/12
1997
10
The Detrys assign listeners to do a good deed.
with a brain tumor that physicians
said would, at minimum, leave her
blind. She lost sight in one eye, but
otherwise is fine. Gini is not the kind
of woman to be stopped once she
makes up her mind. When she learned
of her ailment, rather than sitting
down and feeling sorry for herself, she
decided to make fighting anti-Semi-
tism, which already consumed many
of her free hours, her life's work.
"We've already got 125,000 miles
on our car," she says of the couple's
trips to institutions (most often
churches) around the country. "We
never charge when we speak, and we'll
go to any denominations that will
have us."
The Detrys manage to survive
financially thanks to donations. In a
few weeks they'll pick up a used
camper donated by a friend. Another
acquaintance arranged for a shopping
spree at J.C. Penney.
Getting in the door is the Detrys'
greatest challenge, they say. Often,
their visits are arranged by a church
member who heard them elsewhere.
Once they've got an audience, the
Detrys show a slide show presentation
they created. It's called "The Cries of
Hanna," and it tells the story of the
Holocaust through the eyes of an 8-
year-old girl.
"We want to get people thinking,
`What can I do to prevent something
like this from happening again?'"
Gini says. "We tell them that less
than 1 percent of the population [in
Nazi-occupied Europe] were rescuers,
and not all of them were Christians."
The Detrys greatest hope — and
they often succeed — is to create car-
ing, responsible individuals out of an
otherwise "me-centered" world. Right-
eous gentiles, Gini Detry says, showed
the same characteristics over and over:
altruism, empathy, courage and a
healthy self-esteem.
"You're not born with any of
these," she says. "They have to be
taught, modeled and nurtured."
Gini Detry challenges not only her
audiences but herself. A group from
whom she felt especially distant was
homosexual men with AIDS. So
instead of shying away, she took
action. She went each day to visit with
and feed a man with AIDS, staying
with him for two months until his
death.
"Before I leave an audience, I give
them an assignment," says Gini,
shades of her teaching background
showing. "I tell them to go out and
do something good for someone else,
and don't expect any thanks. Then I
ask them to perform a random act of
courage, to go be friends with that
girl no one talks to, or speak out at a
parry and say ethnic jokes aren't
funny."
There isn't much that riles her
more than the thought of Christians
who supposedly support Jews, but
whose ultimate goal is converting
them to Christianity. Isaiah 40 teach-
es gentiles to "comfort" the Jewish
people — not convert them, the
Detrys say.
The Detrys are optimistic in their
campaign, because they see an
increasing number of Christians who
want to do right. Though they have
received death threats and wage
numerous battles with certain
extremist groups, more often than
not church members express igno-
rance rather than hostility.
"We're finding more and more
churches ... that are very concerned
about Israel and want to help," Gini
says.
In addition to speaking to groups
around the country, the Detrys regu-
larly sponsor pro-Israel conferences,
work with AIPAC and other pro-Israel
Christian groups, raise funds for
Israeli victims of terrorism and make
regular visits to Israel.
The Detrys are away from home
most of the time, and from their two
adult daughters.
"They're both proud of us, but
we're kind of hard to explain to their
friends," Gini says.
"They think we're hippies," her
husband adds.
It can be daunting to live so precar-
iously when it comes to finances, the
Detrys say, but that doesn't slow them -s),
down.
"We'll get discouraged," Gini says,
"and then we'll hear that someone we
talked to stood up for someone else
who was being persecuted. That's
when we know we have to keep
going." ❑
For information on Isaiah 40, con-
tact the Detrys at 409 Main Ave.
Apt. U, DePere, Wisconsin,
54115. Their phone number is
(920) 983-9087, or they can be
reached via e-mail at
40detry@gbonline.com .