When I first titled this chapter (September, 2012), it was a reference to our American visit (Sep, 1984) after success in the African mission and our confident return to Zimbabwe (Jan, 1985). As it turns out, I have finally returned to writing again after a third hiatus in on July 4, 2013—almost 10 months later! So, I guess another “triumph” is that I am finally writing again.
So, what is my excuse this time? I could make a case that I have just been too busy to write ever since starting to teach at Harper College in August 2009. Of course, I used that excuse along with getting serious about my rock group, (www.RageAgainstAgeBand.com), twice before. There are always “reasons.” I no longer had my journal as an outline, so maybe it was some sort of writer’s block?
Just yesterday I finally realized that it wasn’t teaching, the continuing activity with the band, my aging body, writer’s block nor even the three days a week I am spending with my 5½-year old grandson this summer. I lack enthusiasm to tell this story. The central elements of story, though vital at that time, are no longer interesting to me. In fact, I am a disappointed with the quality of my thinking at the time.
At the time, my life seemed exciting, each day inflated with “meaningful” activities, or so I thought. Pegi and I often remarked, “If we never accomplish anything else, what we have already done is more than what most people get to do in a lifetime!” That shows just how small our world had become. We were so certain that we were in the center of God’s plan. Every detail of our lives had meaning and value. You might say that such a perspective is wonderful, and, from one perspective it was. Three decades later, we have a very different perspective.
As I reflect on it now, the story of my wanderings follows a line from my Jesus Freak days in the late 60s to increasing success in ministry through the mid-80s. This linear progression would eventuate in my doctorate in 1997. I was finally fully-accredited as an authority in evangelical circles with episodic success in church ministry and missions. The beginning of 1998 would find me as a denominationally-supported missionary and seminary professor in Singapore. My career path seemed to finally take flight. But, my path would no longer be linear. The experience in Singapore would bring me full-circle back to a Jewish spirituality and, in the process, deflating the “triumph” of 1984.
As I have related events up until now, I have been careful to treat Christians and Christianity with the positive feelings that I had at the time. Most of my critique has been in the realm of personal introspection, blaming myself for anything less than ideal. I think I have candy-coated things a bit. If I am going to tell this part of the story, I will need to leave out the sugar.
Since the prospect of really “calling the plays as I see them” today is what kept me from moving forward, let me be clearer. Today, I have moved to a place in which I can no longer be called a Christian, Messianic Jew, follower of Jesus or Jesus Freak. I don’t deny that I could have been characterized by all of those labels at one time or another. But, that is no longer me!
As a professor of world religions, I see two major components in any faith tradition: the people of faith and the religious system itself. I have found that most “people of faith,” whether Christian, Jew, Hindu, Muslim, Buddhist or whatever — are surprisingly pleasant. It is systematic religion that seems to be the major actor in division, power-mongering, hate-generation and war.
I have never been a fan of “religion” itself. That may sound strange coming from a professor of religion, but, the more I learn about religion, the more uncomfortable I become with it. In 1994, while completing my Master of Divinity, I declared my intention to pursue a doctorate in world religions. I remember my professor at the time, Jim Chancellor, warning me that most people who follow that path become skeptics of religion in general. At the time, I thought that insight into other belief systems would allow me to probe more deeply into the thoughts and motivations of non-believers. My theory was that this would make me more persuasive in evangelism. I suppose the theory was correct, but I found that my educated introspective probing had an even greater impact. The more I learned about other faiths, the more weaknesses I exposed in my own. When I finally began to teach others about religion, I became my best student. The more objective I became about religion and faith in general, the more objectionable my own became.
Still, I generally consider myself a person of faith, and find myself in sympathy with those who live according to their own faith perspectives. However, I also find myself in general agreement with agnostics and others who deny religious absolutism.
My Jewish religious upbringing was unfulfilling in my youth and, although I strongly identify with being Jewish, I have always resisted much of the Jewish religious system, authority structure and tradition. As a young Jesus Freak, I was totally disinterested in historic Christianity, what I referred to as “churchianity.” Up until this point in the narrative (1984), I had found little in the various forms of Christian organization to commend it. In addition, I found even less personal acceptance from any Christian organizations. I was always under suspicion as a Jew. Systemic Christianity seemed to have two paradoxical views of me: a “true Jew” and a “stranger.”
Christians were often thrilled to meet a Jewish believer. I was a descendant of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob and a follower of Jesus. But, since I had not been “born” a Christian, but had only been “born-again” as a convert, I was not to be trusted. I was an “outsider.” The Hebrew scriptures speak of the children of Israel as “strangers in a strange land.” Christianity had co-opted the place of privilege in the kingdom of God and saw Jews as “immigrants” without a valid citizenship by birthright. To be truthful, I harbored my own doubts about the authenticity of my Christianity. What I felt on the inside seemed to be so different from what I saw in others.
Many Christians had a fascination with me as a Jewish follower of Jesus, but would not grant me full legitimacy. Even my thoughts and perspectives concerning the Hebrew scriptures and the teachings of the early Jewish followers found in the New Testament, were often dismissed as defective. There is no question that my perspective and belief system differed radically with that of just about every Christian I encountered. I never was comfortable with Christian explanations of the Trinity and the deity of Christ. The historical rationale for church leadership espoused by most denominations was nonsense to me. Most significantly, the rationale for the canonicity of the New Testament as the “Word of God”, equally authoritative with the Hebrew scriptures, became increasingly difficult to accept. I began to appreciate just how historical and cultural context modified truth perception. The religious thought police could not admit that there was any value outside their own myopic perspective. To even consider that there might be intrinsic value contained in other faith traditions was heretical.
During my doctoral studies, I enrolled in a seminar to research the history and methodology of Christian evangelism. This was in 1996 and I had already begun working on my dissertation which was to include a section on the history or Christian evangelistic efforts directed toward the Jewish people. I was tasked with presenting a research paper on Roland Allen, a missionary to China at the time of the Boxer Rebellion.
Allen was a powerful advocate for indigenous self-supporting churches. I had come to a similar position during my time in Zimbabwe (1983-87). Allen, an Anglican, did not agree with the Baptist teaching concerning the eternal security of the Christian believer. This doctrine taught that salvation, once obtained, could not be lost—even in the case of the greatest personal failures. Rather, Allen took the warnings of Jesus concerning “sons of the kingdom being cast into outer darkness” seriously. He, like a vast number of Christians, took this to mean that it was possible to lose one’s salvation through gross misdeeds. This motivated Allen to encourage churches to ensure the continued discipleship of new believers so that they lived lives consistent with their Christian beliefs.
As I continued with my presentation, another graduate student interrupted to accuse me of being sympathetic with Allen’s view on this. This student was seeking appointment to the Baptist mission board as I was. He declared that I should be removed from consideration as a seminary teacher for the mission board, accusing me of “heresy.” Now, this guy took himself a bit too seriously, as it was unheard of for someone to be accused of heresy for researching the views of someone else. But, this student didn’t like me. He suspected me of not really being Baptist, which to him was equivalent with being a “true Christian.” The professor leading the seminar corrected him for his outburst. I tried not to laugh out loud at him. I found out later that he had filed a formal objection to my appointment with the mission board. Crazy isn’t it?
I had been completely committed to the doctrine of the security of the believer since my Jesus Freak days in the 70s. But, I begun harboring serious misgivings with regard to it based on reading the New Testament. It was clear that Jesus was not in agreement with Baptists! Nevertheless, I had not expressed that opinion as my own. It was Roland Allen’s. But the thought police didn’t like me. They suspected me of all kinds of defective/heretical thoughts. After all, I was a Jew.
If I had it to do all over again, I would have let the thought police keep me from being appointed to the Baptist seminary in Singapore. But, that is for a later chapter. For now, this will suffice as an example of the deconstruction of my Christian worldview. That deconstruction contributed to the construction of my new ever-expanding “world”-view. To this day, I continue to wander through this multiverse of thought. I allow the appreciation for diversity in thinking that I have discovered over time to color the black and white preprinted outline of my life to which I had been exposed in the early 1970s.
So, as we examine my triumphal return from the African “mission field,” I will turn a more critical eye on religion in general and on evangelical Christianity in particular. My intention is neither to prove or disprove the central truth claims of any faith tradition. Rather I continue to tell my own story as a Jew as I wander through my sixth decade.
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