Pegi and I set up a meeting with the rabbi of Congregation Hakafa, Dr. Robert Marx. I was self-conscious about my non-kosher history. As people got to know us, would we be welcomed or shunned? After all, we had actually been missionaries and I had written my dissertation on present-day Jewish Jesus-followers! There was every reason to suspect our motives.
You see, this wasn’t the first encounter with a rabbi. Of course, I had attended my father's Orthodox synagogue, Anshei Sfard for major Jewish holidays. I never really had a conversation with Rabbi Rudman, but was present for some “hallway” conversations he had with my father as well as hearing the occasional remarks he would make from the Bema (pulpit). He was always accommodating and seemingly genuinely happy to see me. I remember his pleasant smile and gentle humor.
My father rarely attended synagogue functions. When I was about 15, I was with him at the synagogue on one Shabbat (Saturday) morning. As we were leaving, we had one of those “hallway” conversations with Rabbi Rudman. My father was recounting all of his recent charitable work with the congregations of a number of African-American pastors in the Louisville area. As he recounted all his activities, he asked, “Rabbi, I have been doing all these things to help out these church congregations. What can I do to help my congregation?” Rabbi Rudman paused and then smiling, answered , “Show-up once and a while!”
Five years later, I returned home from my Jesus Freak summer in California (chapters 3-12) just before leaving for Navy basic training. My secular Jewish mother was pleased that I was no longer dabbling in psychedelic culture, but was not equipped to engage my theological interests. She suggested I go see my high school rabbi at Adath Israel, Dr. Chester Diamond.
I hadn’t seen Rabbi Diamond since my “confirmation” in 10th grade. He tried to help me understand why Jews did not accept Jesus as Messiah, but this was 1969 and I think I was his first encounter with a dizzy Jewish/psychedelic/Jesus Freak! Years later, in 1995, I met with him again as I was starting my doctoral research on Jewish Christians. Dr. Diamond was now very experienced dealing with the impact of eastern religions and the Jews for Jesus phenomenon. His perspective became an important part of my dissertation.
In 1978, I was a chaplain in the Rhodesian Army stationed at Llewellyn Barracks (Chap 50 — “Muck” and Mire) in Bulawayo. This was the national training center for all the Rhodesian draftees. I was responsible for conducting weekly services for them. Of the several hundred trainees, there were five who were Jewish. I didn’t feel that they should have to participate in Christian services, but neither was I equipped to help them. So, I contacted the rabbi from the Bulawayo synagogue to visit them during “Padre’s Hour” on Wednesday afternoons. He quickly identified me as a Jew—even though I was serving as a Christian chaplain. He invited Pegi and me to the Friday evening synagogue services followed by a Shabbat meal with his family.
We were welcomed into his home to meet his wife, children and her brother (also a rabbi) and sister-in-law who were visiting from Israel. I had been concerned that my identification with Christianity would be a source of tension. To the contrary, we were warmly received. It was just what I had experienced at my Uncle Herman’s Shabbat table during my teens—good food, interesting conversations and a feeling of being part of the family. There was no tension, only warmth and kindness. Even when our after dinner conversation turned to theological topics, our different perspectives were gently and respectfully validated as genuine.
A humorous moment came as our lively discussions continued into the late evening. Earlier that morning, I had received an alert of an imminent terrorist attack on the Bulawayo power station. Alerts such as these were common in 1978, so I was “alerted” not alarmed. But, as we conversed, suddenly the lights in the house all went out! Now I was alarmed—huddling with Pegi as we slid off the sofa to shelter on the floor.
In the faint light of the street lights that had not gone dark, we saw the two rabbis and their wives calmly sitting as they gazed down at us. The rabbi then said, “Oh, I am sorry. Our lights are on a timer since we don’t turn lights on or off on Shabbat.” I chuckled as I remembered the biblical prohibition of kindling a fire on Shabbat (Exod 35:3). Wow, I was really distant from my Jewish roots!
We had a good laugh about this and as we decided to call it a night, the Israeli brother-in-law invited us to be their guests in Israel for a few months to learn more about what it meant to be Jewish. I wasn’t ready yet, but the seed that was planted in my soul that evening began to take root and continued to grow until we moved to Israel 45 years later.
When my father died in 1992, we sat Shivah (7-day mourning period) at his brother Herman’s home. It had been 25 years since my last Shabbat with Uncle Herman. This was the occasion that we met the new rabbi of Congregation Ashei Sfard. This was my first encounter with an Hasidic-Orthodox rabbi who had learned from the Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson (1902-1994), the seventh leader in the Chabad-Lubavitch dynasty, affectionately known as “The Rebbe”—probably the most influential Jewish leader of the 20th century. I was vaguely aware of Chabad movement as one of outreach to secularized Jews like me. Even though I knew that Lubavitcher Chabad was warm and friendly to Jews and gentiles alike, I really didn’t know what to expect from this 30-something, severe looking man with his full beard, black suit and black-hat. I was very conscious that we moved in different circles! Feeling like a fish out of water, I found him to be refreshing pleasant and patiently helpful as I stumbled through reading the Kaddish (Mourner’s Prayer).
As we sat with Rabbi Marx in 1999, I was more conscious than ever of my own lack of Jewish knowledge and experience. My doctorate in World Religions included deep dives into Christianity, Hinduism, Buddhism, Taoism, African Traditional Religions and Islam, but only one 3-credit class on Judaism. I was made an adjunct professor of biblical Hebrew just because I was Jewish. My Hebrew language studies (20 credits undergraduate/6 credits graduate), meant that I was qualified to teach how to read the Bible in the original language. However, it didn’t mean that I really knew much about living as a Jew!
In addition to his rabbinic education and six decades of experience leading a congregation, Rabbi Marx was Yale-educated with a doctorate in Philosophy. It sounds kind of funny to say that he had was a Doctor of Philosophy in “Philosophy”! And I was a Ph.D. in World Religions (minus Judaism). What little knowledge of Judaism that I had was intellectual and theological. Rabbi Marx was able to relate to me intellectually and theologically—just what I needed!
Pegi and I shared the broad outline of our journeys from childhood to middle age. No, I didn’t bore him with all the details that I have written here! He understood that the journey that taken us through many struggles, but that those very struggles had led us to the present. The past was the past. What we experienced in the past had brought us to where we were. Where we had been wasn’t the point. It was where were now and more importantly, it was where we were heading.
Rabbi Marx assured us that we were welcome to join with a mixed multitude of fellow-travelers who had “interesting” histories themselves. And so, began the next phase of the journey that had begun in the late 60s. We were no longer alone—we were together with Bnei Yisrael (בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל - children of Israel) journeying to the place of God’s promise.
My perspective today after another three decades is this: It is not even where you are. It is who you are wherever you are. Who you are will take form as you move towards HaShem. Keep looking to Him and let your past be your past. That is spiritual growth. That is what I understand from the first of the Ten Commandments:
לֹֽ֣א־יִהְיֶ֥͏ֽה־לְךָ֛֩ אֱלֹהִ֥֨ים אֲחֵרִ֖֜ים עַל־פָּנָֽ͏ַ֗י׃
You shall have no other gods besides Me.
I prefer to translate “besides Me” עַל־פָּנָֽ͏ַ֗י more literally, “before My face.” In other words, don’t let anything be a roadblock to your approach to the very face/presence of God. The journey is not only about self-discovery, self-connection, self-improvement or becoming “religious.” The goal of the journey is to draw close to HaShem. Just keep moving forward!
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