“The French Would Sell Their Mothers!”

I had a few final duties as base chaplain.  There was a sermon on the blessings of sexual relations in marriage--pretty graphic and probably more straight talk about sex than the recruits had heard in school and certainly much more than they expected from a preacher!  All of my Padre’s Hour sermons had gotten rave reviews.  They were practical and graphic.   

My sermon on sex was attended by the rabbi from the Bulawayo Jewish Synagogue.  When I had discovered that there were five Jewish soliders in the latest training intake, I had invited him to come out and minister to them.  I did this because I remembered how I had felt as a young Jew when forced to listen to prayers and sermons that freely ascribed everything to Jesus’ name--I always felt uncomfortable being forced to participate in someone else’s religious events.

After my sermon, the rabbi invited Pegi and me to a Friday evening Shabbat Service at his synagogue to be followed with a meal in his home.  (Sadly, the Bulawayo Synagogue was destroyed in a 2003 fire.  See pictures from better times at:  http://www.zjc.org.il/showpage.php?pageid=8 .)  Pegi was excited about this as it would be her first experience in any type of Jewish service.  I had grown up shuttling between my mother’s Reform Temple and my father’s Orthodox Shul and had regular Friday evening shabbat meals at my Uncle Herman’s home.

After explaining to Pegi that we would be seated separately for the synagogue service, we parted company.  She sat in the balcony with the rest of the women, while I took a place a few pews back from the bimah from which the rabbi delivered a short sermon on the passive voice of the shabbat command that “no work should be done.”  

Typical of orthodox Jewish services, people arrived at different times and started to read the through evening prayers at their own pace.  The normal cacophony of a dozens of voices reading Hebrew prayers was occasionally interrupted by private conversations in English by those who had finished their liturgy or who were taking a break.  

For my part, since my Hebrew reading skills were not very sharp, I read through the English translation silently.  This meant that I overheard an interesting conversation from the row behind me.  Two men were discussing the scarcity of spare parts for the vehicles and machinery needed for their businesses.  The discussion turned to the Rhodesian fleet of Alouette III helicopters used by the Security Forces in their Fire Force role.  At that time, there were only a handful of Alouettes in service and one spare for parts.  The French had recently become unreasonably stingy with spares and other munitions needed for the war.  This was the result of increasing pressure from UN imposed sanctions.  Ultimately, the conversation ended with the assurance that the French would come through if enough money was offered them.  A voice behind me asserted, “The French would sell their mothers for the right price!”

Even at this late date, Rhodesians still believed that they could continue on indefinitely in the face of worldwide condemnation and sanctions.  And yet, I had just come from Army HQ where it was already obvious that end was upon us.  Sighing, I continued reading from the Prayer Book and added a personal petition that somehow the Lord could make the transition to majority rule a peaceful and bloodless one.

Borrowing an umbrella from the rabbi, we walked back to his home from the synagogue in the pouring rain.  Orthodox Jews do not drive on Shabbat and we honored that tradition by leaving our car parked until after the meal.

After the meal, we sat in the living room and talked about God.  The rabbi’s brother-in-law was also a rabbi and visiting from Israel.  I was the first Jew they had ever encountered who had converted to Christianity, and since I was a chaplain, they assumed that I had a deep theological and biblical background.  Although I had no formal theological training, my self-study under the tutelage of Thieme made me think that I knew much more than I actually did!  Nevertheless, I acquitted myself well in our discussions of Adam in the first few chapters of Genesis.  

I remember that we got stuck on God’s interaction with Adam after he had eaten the forbidden fruit.  You may remember that God called out to Adam saying, “Where are you?”  The rabbi from Israel asked me why I thought that God would ask such a thing.  I remember parroting back what I had heard Thieme say, that this was God giving Adam a chance to come forward freely of his own accord to confess his sinful condition.

To this the Bulawayo rabbi replied, “Yes, that of course is a good point, but the real reason God did this was so that he would not startle Adam.”  This answer startled me!  How could the manner of approach to Adam be significant?  Wasn’t the real issue his sinfulness?  

What I only realized upon reflection was that there is a wide divide between the Jewish and Christian views of sin.  Christianity is totally focused on humankind’s sinful condition.  That is how Jesus becomes the Christian savior, by paying the penalty for sin on the cross.  In Christianity, sin keeps humankind and God separate with no hope of reconciliation.  For Judaism, sin is not really as much the issue as is the very nature of God.  May I say that in Judaism, sin is not such a big deal--God is the big deal, not sin.

One of the things that eventually disenchanted me with Christianity and drew me back to Judaism was focus.  Christianity is more humanity focused.  Judaism is more God focused.  Consequently, Christians are always shocked or surprised by sin.  We Jews are neither shocked or surprised by sin--it is human and we are human.  We Jews are awed by the greatness of God’s love and compassion in the face of persistent human sinfulness.

Just that morning, I had received an alert that the was a possibility of an attack on the Bulawayo power plant.  This had me a bit uneasy as the terrorists had never made such a bold move before.  About 11:00 pm, as our theological discussions continued, suddenly the lights went out.  My instinct to take cover was alleviated by the rabbi’s quiet voice.  “Don’t worry, that’s just the timer!”  Since no work could be done on the Sabbath, the house lights which had already been turned on before sunset, would automatically turn off at bedtime.  That way, no additional work was being done!  My Uncle Herman had been orthodox, kept kosher and tried to keep shabbat commandments, but was not that thorough in his observances.  I felt silly, but my rabbi friend only chuckled assuring me that my reaction wasn’t unusual at all.

As he walked to us our car, he offered to send me to Israel for a few months to learn Hebrew.  I was humbled by his generosity as foreign exchange for travel was very difficult to get approved.  I declined his offer, knowing that we would soon be leaving Rhodesia anyway.  

I realized as we drove home that he was probably wanting to bring me back to Judaism.  He knew that spending a few months in the modern Jewish community in Israel would do more to help me see my way out of Christianity than countless doctrinal discussions.  He realized something that I was only beginning to understand--that true religion was not a matter of belief or doctrine.  True religion has to be lived.  I was confused by my exposure to Christian doctrine.  A couple of months seeing how modern Jews lived out their faith would quickly clear away my confusion.  I wonder what our lives would be if Pegi and I had gone to Israel then instead of returning to Houston.  Could we have prevented two and half decades of wandering?  

Well, I have never done things the easy way, and as Pegi and I returned that evening to finalize our packing for our departure from Rhodesia, I began to wonder if there were more problems with Thieme’s doctrine than just the practical application to daily life.  Even his theology seemed to be “less than” what I had just encountered with the two rabbis. 

A few days later, we boarded an Air Rhodesia flight for Johannesburg, and from there, home to Houston.  As we crossed out of Rhodesian airspace we breathed a sigh of relief--the danger was gone.  Mugabe’s list of chaplains to be executed would no longer apply to me.  

But what did we face at “home” in Houston?  Thieme had already declared me unstable and unreliable for daring to differ with him on political and cultural issues.  Now, I would be labeled a “deserter” at Berachah.  If Thieme wouldn’t believe what I told him about facts on the ground in Rhodesia, would he even care that the Rhodesian Army chiefs-of-staff had instructed me to leave?  Would we even be welcome at Berachah Church any longer?  And what was I to do for a career now?  

And if there was no place for me at Berachah, where was my place in Christianity, especially now that I was doubting key elements of Christian doctrine?  I had never believed in the doctrine of the “Trinity.”  None of the Christian explanations could overcome my core understanding as a Jew that God is one!  I couldn’t buy Thieme’s explanation that God was one “in essence, but three in personality.”  That was logical nonsense.  Either there was one God or there were three Gods--and I couldn’t buy into Christian tritheism.

And after my encounter with the rabbis, I was “wondering” about the nature of sin and just how important it was not.  Well, all of that was hours away across the Atlantic.  Right now, it was time to get some rest.  The first thing facing us would be customs and immigration.  I sure hoped that Robin Moore’s articles about us weren’t going to make reentry difficult once we got to New York.

Next:  Finding Out for Myself