A Secret Seeker Finds the Messiah
I am an Orthodox Jew by adoption. That is to say, I am a convert to Judaism, according to the halacha.
I live in the company of other Orthodox Jews, with my husband and four children, in a religious community in Israel. I also love
Jesus and the Gospel message, which I am still learning, and this means
that I live my faith life mostly inwardly.
I was not raised in
any religion or faith. I was not taught anything about God by my
parents. My maternal grandmother, who was Catholic, tried to teach us
sometimes, but it must have bothered my mother, because she stopped.
[I
only remember snippets of my grandmother, but in light of my new faith,
they seem significant: the crucifix on her kitchen wall; the
needlepoint Madonna and child in her foyer; the small statue of St.
Francis in her backyard; the rosaries she would give to us occasionally
(I was given one of hers after she died; unfortunately, seeing it as an
idolatrous object at the time, I destroyed it :( ); the fact
that, of all my relatives, she genuinely appreciated not only my
decision for Judaism (it had a Biblical basis) but my move toward
Orthodoxy (she only tried to evangelize me once, by sending me a book
called "The Greatest Story Ever Told," which was apparently about
Jesus; I never read it...)]
I always believed in God, but
didn't know how to relate to Him. I went to a Baptist church once, at
the invitation of a friend, but I had never read the Bible on my own,
so I didn't know what the Sunday School teacher was talking about. I
once prayed to Something I thought might be Jesus, but I didn't
understand anything about Him. I knew nothing of salvation, for
example, or of the Holy Spirit. Since I didn't understand or agree with
any of the ways in which God had been presented to me so far, I decided
I would "pick and choose" the ideas I was most comfortable with. I went
to a New Age "church," and that didn't fit. I also went to a "Unity"
church, and that didn't quite fit, either.
When I was
almost nineteen years old, I moved out of my father's house, and one of
my roommates was Jewish. He was what I sometimes call a once-a-year Jew
- meaning he only practiced his religion on Rosh Hashannah, the Jewish
new year. But one day, unbidden, he began to read to us from a book of
his called "Sha'arei Shabbat," Gates of Sabbath. I was captivated. This
was the first time I can remember hearing religion spoken of from what
I thought was the beginning: It said that the world was made by God,
and belongs to God. It said that the Jewish testimony to this truth was
the once-a-week rest- in imitation of God Himself- by relinquishing our
mastery over the world He has lent to us and giving it back to Him, for
twenty-five hours straight.
I began reading the book on my own. Not too long after that, I decided I had
to become Jewish, so I could have this holy day for myself- and the
holy tongue, and the holy diet, and the Holy Bible, and... It was the
concept of holiness that drew me. "You shall be holy, for I the LORD
your God am holy," the Bible says (Leviticus 20:26). I also felt
connected to this people, Israel, in a way that was unlike any
connection I had before. I had never loved someone so much that I
wanted to become a part of them. At one point, I even decided that if I
could not become a Jew, I could not live. I would have died for it.
I lived the Torah, but even while I was still in the conversion
process, I began to feel a certain kind of tension. I began to feel
that try as I might, I would never be able to live up to the standards
set by the innumerable rules and regulations. I knew there were
"higher" reasons behind many of the commandments, but because there
were so many of them, I could not see the ultimate purpose. I was
unable to see the forest for the trees, as they say. And, several years
after my conversion, I began to realize that at some point, the ideal
of holiness had been lost, and the details of the Law became ends in
themselves. We- the Jews (at least the religious ones that I knew) -
rather than striving for holiness, were now primarily concerned with
checking off items on our commandment-and-custom list.
I also realized that as holy as the chosen people are supposed to be,
we are imprisoned by the Exile. It is an exile, not just of the people
from the Holy Land, but of our souls from our Makor,
our source. In our efforts to avoid being swallowed by the lands of our
dispersion, we have built the 'hedge around the Law' ever higher. Now,
that hedge is so high, if one lives within the Law, no "goyische"
influence can invade. No light can escape, either. Our ever-deepening
concern with the minutae of the Law has caused us to forget our mission
to be a "light to the nations."
Why
did we, on the whole, no longer seem capable of, or concerned with,
encouraging the nations to righteousness? Could it have been that the
light of the entire world is from Christ??
Despite my disillusionment, I had no desire to seek out any other faith
or people. I suppose that was why the Lord used someone outside of me
to bring me to Him.
In October 2008, I was
contacted by my old high school "flame," through our high school alumni
website. I learned that he was not only a soldier who had been injured
in the war in Iraq, but he was also a pastor with the Assemblies of
God. (He was a soldier before he was a pastor, which was why he was
"called up" again.) He learned that I was a religious Jew living in
Israel. We were both married with two young children (I still am).
Tentatively, we began an exchange of cultural and religious
information. My interest was less in his culture than in his religion.
For the first time in my life, I wanted to know why Christians believe
the way they do, what they do, what the different denominations are,
how they live, what they think about the same situations I experience.
I wanted to know what they said who Jesus was, and why, and what the
New Testament says. The more I learned, the more envious I began to
feel. Yes, at first it seemed it was because Christians are not
constrained in quite the same ways that I am- that is, they seem to
have fewer commandments to follow. After a while, however, I realized
that what I envied was not their religious-legal freedom, but rather,
their apparent freedom from sin. Christians didn't seem to need a
strict ritual framework to connect to God, nor did they seem to need
such a high hedge around the Law. And with all my envy, I finally began
to admit to myself the suspicions I had subconciously held all along:
What if I'm not good enough? What if I really do need Jesus to connect
completely to God? What if the Christians are right?
I think it was while the IDF were still in Gaza (during Operation Cast
Lead), that I accepted Jesus Christ into my life after reading
"Following Christ" (a link on ag.org). Unfortunately, all my research,
reading and learning had to be done in secret. You see, not only am I a
religious Jew in Israel, but I live in a religious Zionist town. I used
to be a big fan of Rabbi Tovia Singer, the counter-missionary rabbi.
All my friends are religious Zionists. Our children go to
religious-Zionist schools. And my husband, whom I still love dearly, is
completely hostile to the mere mention of Jesus or Christianity,
especially Catholic Christianity. It's like an allergy with him. To my
husband, Christian philosophy is weak and cowardly, Christian theology
is heresy, and Christian worship is idolatry (even without cross or
crucifix). He has no kind words for any Christian in the context of
that person's Christianity. He doesn't even want our children to listen
to 'Kumbaya'. My husband is the
nexus of my socialization with the rest of the public world. My hopes
for the rest of my public life is based largely on how I can predict
his reactions. Any mention of my new faith, to him or anyone
else here, could cost me my husband, my children, their public
schooling, my job, my friends, my physical safety, my right to
citizenship in Israel, or any combination of those things.
My faith has already been tested and failed. When that happened, I kind
of lost faith in everything else, too. I floundered spiritually,
desperately seeking the connection to God I had begun to know before it
was tested by HaSatan.
Privately, I flirted with Islam, paganism ('Wicca') and even
agnosticism, before I finally returned to Christ in repentence and
asked Him to show me what I had missed before. This time, I read more
on the origins of this faith I had secretly adopted. I began to read
"The Messiah in the Old Testament" by Risto Santala, the Finnish
(Lutheran) missionary to Israel. Mr. Santala's writings showed me
that the origins of Christianity lie in the writings of the very Jewish
sages I had so revered, but that these ideas have been hidden,
dismissed, marginalized, re-interpreted, or transformed. I was only
about two-thirds of the way through the book when I began to see so
much of the Messiah in the Jewish sources, I was hard-pressed to
refrain from crying out, "I KNEW it! Hey, everyone - Jesus is the Messiah!"
It
was not long before I also realized that I was drawn to Catholicism. It
happened when I was searching for stories of Jewish converts to
Christianity, and I followed a link to the testimony of a former
Lubavitcher Jew (like me!), now a Dominican nun (on 'Catholics for Israel?? Who would have imagined that such a group existed?).
I wanted to know what she found so compelling about Catholicism, and I
was soon hooked, not only on the specifics of Catholic life, but on the
difference in the message. Evangelical Christians present eternal life
as a reward for services rendered (faith). However, I was never
interested in rewards. It seems to me (correct me if I'm wrong) that in
Catholicism, the ikar, the essential point of all faith-life, is the
eternal exchange of love offered through Jesus. Deep down, where the
Lord takes me does not concern me. No matter how much I appreciated
Evangelical Christianity, I never thought to myself, halleluyah, I get
to go to heaven! Maybe that's what was missing. Love. Lovelovelove.
Overwhelming love. If one only answers His call honestly and
unreservedly, that is the sure result. Or rather, the sure discovery.
After all, the love of God isn't suddenly bestowed upon you when you
participate in the "fullness of the means of salvation." God loves all
of His creations and calls us all to participate in that love, and the
Catholic Church is the most complete way of doing so.
As you may
have guessed by now, I have not yet been baptized. I have not even
contacted a priest. My current circumstances, including my schedule and
location, allow for very few opportunities to join church activities.
For the time being, I am still technically 'only' a Jew. I realize that
most of my fellow Jews would take issue with that, if they knew of the
true nature of my faith. However, I have never seen in Scripture that
different belief somehow mysteriusly (pardon the term) changes one from
a 'member of the Tribe' to a stranger. Perhaps someday I will be
granted the courage to proclaim my faith publicly - starting with my own
husband. I learn. I pray intensely. And I wait.
Sh'lom HaMashiach
Ruth
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