Our recent apartment hunt had about all the excitement I can handle for the next decade! It did give us an opportunity to dive deeper into people’s culture and beliefs, though. We found one of those opportunities hanging on our doorbell in the shape of a blue-eye amulet.

The first day after we moved in, still terribly tired and slightly confused, I didn’t think much of the ornament except that I really liked the color. But as Sabbath approached and my mind started to relax a little, I realized that the hanging amulet did, in fact, ring some bells in my head. That day, I also watched my children stomping through the scattered boxes, holding two smaller similar ornaments and giggling, as they always do when they find something new. Apparently, they liked the color as well.

Then I realized. It is the evil eye. I remember learning about that. Those ornaments were supposed to guard us against evil spirits. I looked to see the ones already on the shelf, but they were gone. I found out later that Chris had spotted them, too, and promptly took a bunch of them out with the trash. It turns out that during the viewing tour, the old owner of the apartment had proudly explained to him that those amulets hanging in the house would protect us from all evil. Right at that moment, Chris turned to our realtor and good friend, Dima, and told him, “That won’t be necessary.”

To which Dima replied, “Once you move in, you can take them off. Please don’t say anything to him now, as it might upset him.”

Note taken. Take the evil eye down.

The evil eye is a superstition deeply rooted in paganism, but largely adopted in both Christian and non-Christian countries alike. The superstition states that if a person looks at you maliciously, you can get sick or even die. In my home country, the belief is that even looking at someone with too much admiration can have the same result, even if you don’t mean harm.

In fact, in 21st-century Christian Europe, I have countlessly and symbolically been spat at right after being told I was beautiful, just to counteract the possible unwanted effects of the evil eye. I have seen mothers making sure their newborn babies always wore something red, as it is believed to have the same protective effect. As an adult, I watched speechlessly as a patient at the clinic where I worked grabbed her baby and frantically started to knock on every consulting room, asking for matches to burn into some coal. When I asked what it was for, she said she needed to spread coal on her baby’s forehead and recite the Lord’s prayer. The baby was freshly out of the hospital after a bout of “evil eye,” and now someone had just looked at her again. None of my reasoning calmed the mother down. Later that day, we found burned matches and ashes in the patients’ restroom.

That Sabbath, as my kids looked excitedly for their “nice blue eye toys,” Chris and I sat them down and explained what they were.

“We believe Jesus is guarding us against evil. We don’t need an ornament hanging on our door for that,” we said.

“Ok, Mommy,” Evan nodded. “Then can we just play with it? It’s so pretty!”

“I’m afraid not, Honey. We can play with real toys, but we would prefer to throw this one away, as Daddy did with the others. It’s not something that goes well in a Christian home,” I said.

“Oh, I see. This is a bad toy!”

“No, dear, it’s just a powerless piece of painted ceramic. It can’t harm you. But we are here to show everyone how big God is. Keeping things that people believe are magic will send a message: that we don’t believe in God’s power but believe a painted eye can protect us.”

Evan’s little face now had an understanding look on it. But I could see he was sad to let it go.

“I will tell you what. We will find something else to hang on our doorbell. Something pretty that would tell everyone that Christians live here. What do you say?”

Evan looked more satisfied now.

“Ok, Mommy, but can I be the one to throw it away?”
“Of course, you can,” I replied.

Minutes later, we went for a walk and watched Evan drop the amulet in the big trash container on our street. We could see the pensive look on his face, which he displays every time he’s processing things. Then he went on to explain to his sister everything he had just processed.

During our furlough in the States, I laid my eyes on a carved wooden cross, without the risen Lord on it, along with the inscription “Hope from above.” Now I picked it up from the shelf and smiled. I knew the perfect place for it. As we placed it on the doorbell of our new home, I couldn’t help but think that the evil eye had been there for years. The neighbors will definitely spot the change. They will not only know that this house has a new owner but also a new Master. I felt like we had just made a clear statement.

After all, wasn’t this the reason we were here — to point people toward real hope? To help lessen the fear of evil? And to replace superstitions with God’s word? I would say that’s precisely the point. We know a hanging ornament alone won’t do that. It, too, is a powerless piece of wood. But it’s a statement, nonetheless, one that reflects our story and our beliefs.

Peace from above. It’s something this world desperately needs more. It’s something we deeply wish to share with any soul in need. Would you pray that God will make our paths cross with these people?

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