So, what was working? Quite a bit. We were enjoying living simply as a family without a particular agenda. We didn’t have to justify our reasons for being in Louisville, nor did we feel the stressors of being “religious” or in “ministry.” We didn’t have to labor under a sense of being different or engaging in anything special—we were just a family. That was special enough for now.
We regularly crossed the bridge over the Ohio to visit Indiana without visas, checkpoints or inspections. We could just be ourselves and enjoy unrestricted normality with neither apology nor self-assertion, free from pressures or expectations. Our apartment was comfortable in a tree-shaded setting. We had friends and family nearby.
Our time in Rhodesia/Zimbabwe had allowed us to test out “truths,” discarding the dysfunctional and retaining heartfelt convictions which worked for us as a family. We had learned a lot about ourselves and the world around us. We were not living based on the assumptions, theories, dogmas or doctrines of others. We were expressing our own tested convictions and experiences.
We set aside the desire for social fulfillment—being on the “same page” with others. Instead, we focused on our small family. And that was enough for a while without worrying ourselves with finding others who thought/lived the way we did. We spent our time and energy thinking and enjoying being Pegi, Abi and Jeff.
I occupied myself with my nascent life insurance business. No, it wasn’t as meaningful as introducing people to God, but if I couldn’t be in ministry, I could do the next best thing—help people invest in the financial welfare of their families if disaster should strike. And, if no disaster struck, those investments would be a “wealth transfer” to those for whom they cared. I could provide for my family by helping others to provide for their families. That sounded pretty meaningful to me!
So, we dived right into the waters of secular life, buoyed by our inner convictions. I would later struggle to stay afloat due to the weight of helping others while helping myself. In addition, I became concerned that the corporate goals of the insurance companies were pulling me under the surface. These competing elements began to be more difficult to balance each day. I was conscious that they were gnawing on my internal sense of integrity. As I struggled through all of this, I became aware of the need for some social connection that went beyond the familial and mundane. We were in the Louisville pool and treading water. Just treading our own water on her own was pleasant for a while. But look! There are some others enjoying the cool water. Maybe we could find some swimming partners with whom we shared similar ideas about the nature and meaning of life?
We no longer seemed connected to most of the evangelical community that we had encountered over the years in Louisville. We were still friends with the Benningers from the “Meeting at the YMCA” [62—Sparks in Our Ministry and 63—The Brothers in Responsibility], but we no longer were comfortable in that congregation. By summer of 1989, we began to think about finding others who shared similar spiritual motivations and interests with whom to bond. I couldn’t get enthusiastic about mainstream “Churchianity” based on my 1969 Jesus Freak roots [6—Jewish LSD Freak Meets Jesus Freak]. My early 20s in Houston [20—Houston, We Have a Problem], where I had met Pegi, left me little patience or tolerance for your typical local church. I was an independent thinker—more interested in relationship with God than theology or religious praxis. We had experienced the bankruptcy of the charismatic evangelical lifestyle, but we loved the contemporary worship of charismatic congregations. However, we found the charismatic “magic shows” disturbing and the strength of most charismatics’ convictions to be wanting. Nevertheless, we still needed to at least try to find some sort of God-centered social pool in which we could swim.
I found the structures of synthesized religions or philosophies unwieldy and discomforting. In trying to see myself as a counter-cultural hippie, I never felt whole. As a Jesus Freak—I was a freak, but something was off. As an evangelical Christian, there was just too much I found disturbing.
But, I yearned for friendship with others. There must be some way of connecting to others without compromising ourselves! We tried visiting some of the congregations in the area. It took a few years, but after many trials and errors, we found a new “community church” that had recently formed. Most of the 100+ members were in their 30s with small children—just like us. Our world of experience was very different than theirs, but somehow we felt a promising inclination to connect with them.
It was no surprise that we weren’t exactly on the same page as they were—actually we weren’t really reading the same Bible. Christians see the Hebrew Bible (Tanakh) through the lens of the New Testament. I found the stories in the Gospels about Jesus, who was a first century Jew, interesting and even inspiring. However, I was never comfortable with the New Testament theology that tried to rewrite the history of God’s covenantal relationships. Viewing the biblical history of God’s interaction with humankind through the lens of the New Testament—getting the cart before the horse—resulted in a strange rewrite that turned Jesus from an interesting Jewish character first into a messiah, then a human sacrifice, and finally into God! Nope, I never could honestly affirm the deity of Christ or the even more bizarre concept of a triune God. At best, I understood Jesus to have taken some of the basic elements of 1st century Jewish life and made it accessible to marginalized Jews struggling to more fully engage. It seemed to me that the approach of early Jewish Jesus followers had been rebranded and augmented to help non-Jews get started on the path toward covenantal relationship with the God of Israel. If their intention had been to augment Judaism as an invitation for gentiles to walk the path that the children of Israel had followed for thousands of years, then, in my mind, we could walk together. I had not yet fully realized that the Christian New Testament did not augment the Abrahamic and Mosaic covenants. It claimed these covenants as its own and sought to marginalize the Jewish people with Christian ascendancy and superiority through their new covenant. As I mentioned, I only came to realize this gradually during the decade from 1989-99.
At this time, my bottom line was that Jewish teaching through the vehicle of the life of Jesus had been successful in helping some of the weak and marginalized of Jewish society get “on the road again” to quote Willie Nelson. For the gentiles who had been led astray by a multitude of false gods, the story of Jesus was a signpost pointing to the road that led to experience with the one true God.
At the time, I didn’t really understand all of this. It seemed, however, that we could walk together for this part of the journey. Maybe we could inspire and encourage one another to keep moving forward. They thought of themselves only as Christians, but seemed interested in crafting a contemporary approach to a God-filled life that was culturally relevant. We were strangers in a strange land again, but their young pastor was friendly and invited us to be involved in and even lead congregational worship in music. That was right up our alley!
The response to our music was very positive, but I sensed an undercurrent of concern about us by some. We knew that there were uncomfortable elements of their faith perspective that we couldn’t share. After all, they were new to walking the path to God and as Jews, we had been on this journey for four millennia. We encountered some suspicion of our Jewishness from more doctrinaire Christians. There were protestations of “love” for the Jewish people as the progenitors of the faith Christians claimed. But, of course, Jews had rejected Jesus as messiah. This made us potential troublemakers who needed to be watched closely. We might start asking troubling questions or challenging the authority of their some of their deeply held convictions. This new community of Christians was dabbling in a modern rock ’n roll format and we had experience with that style of worship. We heard the rumblings of some complaining about contemporary music styles that had its origins in “dangerous” charismatic Christian sources. And, now a couple of Jews were leading that music. Play some dark and ominous music here!
Nevertheless, we felt assured that this was a positive step in continuing our journey, but what was our destination? Life was good, but where were we headed?
In the summer of 1991, my mother passed away after a decades’ long battle with emphysema and lung cancer as a life-long smoker. Her passing led me to wonder about our future. Where were we going? It was time to gather myself and relaunch ourselves forward on the journey.
Over the years, I had cobbled together my own perspective, learning enough Hebrew and Greek to read the Tanakh and the New Testament in the original languages. I studied ancient near eastern history and archaeology to understand the context of the biblical stories. I investigated the works of Jewish and non-Jewish scholars. I field-tested my learning each step along the way, first in Houston, then in Rhodesia/Zimbabwe. I was constantly investigating and experimenting to incorporate what worked for us. More importantly, I had continued to read the Bible every day. I read it for myself to see what it said to me.
But, I needed to have more tools in my tool belt and I needed to develop greater skill in employing them. I investigated institutions of higher learning in biblical studies. Indiana University had a solid graduate program, but Bloomington was several hours from Louisville. University of Louisville didn’t have a program in religious studies. However, there was a Christian seminary close to my home that had a highly regarded graduate program in biblical studies. My childhood rabbi had been a visiting professor, teaching introductory biblical Hebrew. That was a reassuring connection for me and I decided to attend lectures during the evenings.
I had once again been promoted and was now VP for Kentucky with my own office of established insurance agents, allowing me to back away from personal sales. Rather than taking up a hobby like golf, I would go back to the formal education that I had left in 1969. From September of 1991 to December of 1997, I finished my B.A. in religious studies, M.Div. in theology and Ph.D. in world religions.
My doctoral dissertation examined the emergence 20th century churches that were composed of Jews who followed Jesus. Ostensibly, they claimed that that they were the modern equivalent of the 1st century early Christians. I harbored hope that such a community might be a pool for us to swim in. As I dove into these waters, I would soon realize that this was not my path. It was a short swim. I will narrate what I discovered and why I climbed out and toweled off in the coming chapters.
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