14. The Continuing Perils of Jesse
14.1 Part One: 1996-1998: Back to Church at Last
THE MAJOR CHANGE IN MY LIFE THAT RELATES TO THIS ARTICLE is my decision, over a year ago 1, to risk darkening the door of a church again. I began with a local neighborhood church with an interdenominational emphasis. Returning to religion is not for everyone, but for me, it is a return to who I really am. There is a Hebrew word associated with the Feast of Trumpets, Teshuvah, which some people translate as "repentence," but which really means "returning," the idea being that your best self is who you really are, and you need to return to that self, who you were, ideally, in God's eyes, when you were born-who you were meant to be.
As Viktor Frankl says, it is not the job of the psychiatrist to dictate religious matters to the patient, but to help him or her to achieve a healthy mental state. In his experience, some patients need to reject their religion in order to heal, others find that embracing religion is part of their healing path. For me, I had to do things in stages. Rejection of religion seemed to be my path of healing, but healing, for me, could not be complete without rededication of the religious part of my life.
I've since met a few old friends, and they have been curious about those twelve "interim years." Did I really become an atheist? Well, for about two minutes, I did. Early in my struggles, I remember walking home, and seeing one of the magnificent skies this region is famous for. It was a bright, shining, metallic silver: my heart leapt, and I remember thinking that whatever doctrine or belief was in confusion, my God was the God that encompassed such things as that silver sky. At that moment, I trusted God to bring me to the place He wanted me to be in, and in His own good time, and when it was right for me.
So, for most of the time, I did believe in God, and I was a Theist, because I could not return to my childhood belief of a non-personal God or pantheistic Force. Like William James said in his essay, The Will to Believe, only certain religious ideas were ever really "live options" for me, ones even possible for me to come to believe.
Emotionally, this whole area was too painful and sensitive for me to examine, beyond the self-examination that went into this article. In some ways, I still saw myself as an apostate, a betrayer of my faith, so I found it very upsetting to think about. I now think that my faith just slipped into a healing coma, until it was safe to be reawakened. I chose to suspend my belief until I could look it in the face again. Relating to God as Creator and Protector is what got me through.
Since I am rather strict and precise in my definitions, I no longer referred to myself as a Christian, because I had entered into a phase of skepticism. I no longer wanted to believe something out of habit, and I wasn't sure I really had good reason to believe the Christian message. Even though I had examined and carefully proven to myself the uniqueness of the Bible, and the historical and logical proofs of Christianity from many outside sources long before my contact with the Worldwide Church of God, I became less skeptical of God than of myself. Let God be true, and every man a liar, yes-but what if I was that liar? How could I trust anything I believed? How could I trust my own judgement now? Could I ever trust myself again?
I would, when pressed, acknowledge that my bent, my prejudice, was pro-Christian with a large Judaic slant, but I did not feel that being comfortable with an idea or flavour was good enough. I remember one woman, perhaps four years ago 2, trying to evangelize me, and I parried her far too skilfully. She was suspicious, questioned me, and I told her, "I used to be a Christian." This concept flabbergasted her: how can one be an ex-Christian? Her protest bothered me more than I thought it would. She made me angry, and I fought back tears. I was not as comfortable with my suspended animation as I thought. I realized something would have to be done about it.
But I was determined I would do it right, and I was terrified of my vulnerability, and afraid of falling victim to religious manipulation again. It took a few years before anything much happened. Somewhere along the line, I started praying again, though it was too painful to open a Bible.
I didn't know where to begin. All I knew was that, realistically, I had no reason to disbelieve what I had proven to myself, because I never stopped believing for rational reasons: I'd never seen any logical dispoofs of what I had held to be true. My lack of faith was irrational and emotional.
When a new, interdenominational church began in our area, I was drawn to it: it was extremely modern, well-organized, and its message was very basic: the thrust of its mission was to be a church for people who had been alienated from churches in the past, and help them have a fresh start. Much time was spent examining the nature of God, from a Biblical viewpoint, and this was essential. All other details be hanged, it is all about the idea that God is, and What and Who He is. For three or four months, this was a good thing for me, though some of the beliefs I heard expressed in their Bible Studies began to make me uncomfortable.
It became apparent that the church behind this, an old Calvinist kind of church, had, not surprisingly, beliefs diametrically opposed to my own. It was good for me, though, and humbling, to have to return to God through Calvinists, whose ideas I had always despised. But this uneasy honeymoon couldn't last. Hearing things preached brought many forgotten things to mind, and awoke many ideas and beliefs. I tried to "suspend disbelief" in what they were saying, or have mental reservations, but this only went so far.
Still, I stayed. Though I was disturbed by many things, I had become otherwise very happy and comfortable there. Part of me knew I had to leave before Easter (I still believed Passover was the correct observance), or I would sink into deep spiritual dishonesty, but I was still reluctant. I had been many things in the intervening years, but I had maintained a certain integrity. I had not done anything I could not believe in. Unfortunately, I was almost about to start.
I wish I could say I left on good terms, but my vulnerability, and their newly-planted-church vigor and zeal and desire for converts created a cult-like environment that caught me up to the point that I was desperately trying to twist myself out of shape in order to fit in. It was frightening how, after all my caution, I had so easily become addicted to being in a religious group, even one that was such a poor match for me.
I desperately did not want to lose my momentum and stop attending church; it had taken me a dozen years to get to this point, and I was afraid of how long it would take if ever I gave up again. I knew where I wanted to go next, but I was afraid. My mind kept turning back to the idea of the Church of God (Seventh Day); I knew they kept the Sabbath and I'd heard they kept the Passover, and I desperately wanted to observe the Passover that year. Amy and I had observed the Passover together alone two springs before, and I sorely missed it. But I was terrified. Herbert Armstrong, the founder of the Worldwide Church of God, had been baptized and ordained in the Church of God (Seventh Day), and while they didn't come out of him, but he from them, I was afraid they might be like him in some way. Later, I discovered how wrong I was.
While I hesitated, I was reluctant to stop my weekly habit of going to church, because I was finally coming to terms with myself. I began to go to other local churches, a different one each Sunday, though I ultimately knew I would prefer a Sabbath-keeping church. In the meantime, though, it was reassuring not to narrow myself completely to people who agreed with me in every way. I felt the need to expand my appreciation of other varieties of faith.
I was amazed how, regardless of the denomination of the church, I learned something valuable every time I went. It gave me pause, and made me rethink my ideas about the importance of "correctness" in one's beliefs. This is a paradox: being accepting towards the beliefs of others does not mean it is all right to be apathetic or dishonest about what beliefs you subscribe to. Still, wherever the Bible was preached or read from, there was value.
It wasn't good enough, eventually, to simply "go along with" whatever was common in the neighborhood. I do believe it was good for me, though, to retain a certain open-mindedness. I think about the rabbi who said, "Every man is in some way my superior: the young man, in innocence; the old man, in wisdom..." I try to keep it in mind, so that even if I do take my quest for knowledge seriously, I don't take myself too seriously in the process.
Passover was getting closer. I had only that month from when I missed Easter to when Passover was coming up, and I didn't have much choice. Even in a middling sized city, tiny off-the-beaten-track denominations are rare, and a Sabbath-keeping church that observed the Passover would be pretty uncommon.
Eliminate Worldwide Church of God offshoots, and there really was only one choice that I knew about left in our area. I say I hadn't dreamed of going to the offshoots, but I had. I looked up the Worldwide Church of God on the Internet, and found web sites listing various groups who had come from them. I found their web pages, and discovered some were in town. I tried looking them up in the phone book, and not a one was listed. I broke out into a cold sweat, and began to shake and cry, pacing like a caged animal, frightened at how close to the bone it all still was. I didn't want anything to do with yet another Secret Society.
The Church of God (Seventh Day) began to look less frightening. They were, of course, in the phone book, had their own building, and their service times were publicly announced on a sign outside the building. That was reassuring. Shortly before Passover of 1997, I showed up for a service. The Bible Study was ending, so I looked at the booklets in the lobby before the service began. I took one of each, but was amazed to see the booklets were on the same topics and had the same titles of old Worldwide Church of God booklets. Later study would confirm it.
Of course, I had been lied to in the Worldwide Church of God. They said all the Church of God (Seventh Day) had in common with them was the Sabbath and the Passover. In fact, as I discovered later, almost all the beliefs were the same, except for the Holy Days, and some eschatological details, and the British-Israelite stuff. It is easy to see where Herbert Armstrong got most of the things he preached.
When I went in to the tiny building with its small congregation, I could see there was no place to hide. The services were delightful. Black, Hispanic, and white families happily worshipping together-such a breath of fresh air from the oppressively racist Worldwide Church of God. Very democratic and casual, with much input from the congregation. In the Bible Studies, both men and women are free to speak out their opinions! It was I could do, sometimes, not to talk too much. The shared prayer is also the best of evangelical and modern-mainstream practice. It has been very healing to be in a congregation so full or faith and love. I have been there happily for more nearly two years, though the main thing missing, for me, is the holy days.
Even their Passover is not quite Passover. Observed after sunset on Nisan 14, they say it is not the Passover, but call it The Lord's Supper. They follow the practice of Christ with his disciples at the Last Supper, including the foot washing, so it felt very much like the Passover service I was used to. I don't doubt that Herbert Armstrong closely modelled his Passover service after the Lord's Supper he observed in this church many years ago. This is not so unusual, as many churches look to the Last Supper as a model for their communion services, whether observed annually or more often.
Because the Church of God (Seventh Day) does not see this day as Passover, they do not observe any Days of Unleavened Bread. They don't observe any other holy days, not even Pentecost, which many churches do. They do observe innocuous mainstream holidays like Thanksgiving and New Year's, though not things like Halloween, Christmas or Easter.
Months later, further study led back to the fact that the Jewish people prepare the Passover by the end of Nisan 14, and eat the meal on the 15th, which I came to believe was more correct 3, though the 14th is the day after many Paschal Christian churches observe it, including almost all Worldwide Church of God offshoots. At the time that I was doing my best to keep the Passover, the Dalai Lama was observing it in the United States, at a Jewish Passover service. He told those present that the Jews had more experience with being in exile than the Tibetan people, and could learn from them. The traditional end of the service was modified in his honour to: "next year in Jerusalem and Lhasa!" I found it profoundly moving to read about.
There was no one to celebrate Pentecost with, but shortly after that, I ran into some old friends. Strangely enough, I met up with one at a mammography clinic--he was there bringing his mother in for a mammogram. What a place to meet up with a guy! I renewed contact with another old friend through him, and we three kept the Feast of Trumpets together, sharing information, and doing some things we'd found from Jewish sources (like Tashlich, a relatively modern observance, involving throwing stones into a river, symbolic of one's sins being forgiven and forgotten by God).
As one of us wasn't going to make it for the Day of Atonement, the other friend broached the idea of spending Atonement with Global, a Worldwide Church of God offshoot made up mainly of people kicked out for refusing to go against their original beliefs. With some trepidation, I agreed; he knew where they met, so that was not a problem. The people I saw there were those I remembered as the most kindly towards me, and they were glad to see me. It was good to conquer another fear. It brought my friend and I back, though, to earlier times, and we both realized there had seldom ever been any new insights given on the holy days, simply the same ideas repeated over again every year. We had both been absorbing new and deeper information from Jewish and Hebraic-Christian sources, and were eager to expand our knowledge and practice.
Atonement was on the Sabbath in 1997, and halfway through, it suddenly felt strangely wrong to us to be fasting on the Sabbath. Afterwards, my friend and I discovered that in such years, the Jewish people observe Atonement the next day, to avoid fasting on a Sabbath. This had never been an issue in Worldwide. So, even though we thought we were learning so much, we were still ridiculously in the dark-and we had a good laugh about that. We won't make that mistake again, but we will probably make others.
There are a number of good sources of information on Christian observance of the Holy Days out there now: Triumph Prophetic Ministries' publications, like Prophecy Flash! are excellent on the holy days, particularly Passover and Pentecost, (though I personally am not too fond of the prophetic slant) and Hebrew Roots is also quite rich and full of depth. I understand there are other Messianic groups and Hebrew-Christian groups also, which I have not even begun to explore. Samuele Bacchiocchi, author of From Sabbath to Sunday has just written a two-volume study on the Holy Days; a Seventh-Day Adventist, his views in these matters are not the official ones of his church, and I find it heartening that his differing opinions are tolerated. He has some good insights on the topic.
Overall, though, I have found so much knowledge in Jewish books, radio shows, and web sites regarding the holy days, that there is an embarrassment of riches. I'm inclined to prefer the Jewish sources for their depth, and where there is a difference in observance, more likely to defer to them. After all, Christ told his disciples to observe what the Pharisees taught, just not to copy their sometimes-hypocritical practice; He chose Paul, a Pharisee of Pharisees, to preach to the Gentiles, and Paul himself said the Jews were entrusted with "the oracles of God." I think it is humbling, and useful, to respect that.
For some time, my friend and I shared sources, material, and insights, and observed things together whenever possible. This helped to alleviate, somewhat, not being able to share these things with the church I was in, but I was more interested, at that point, in belonging to a stable community than in moving from one group to another.
Currently, I am also attending a Messianic congregation in our area, made up of Jewish and non-Jewish people who wish to be a bridge between both phases of God's people. I am delighted to finally have people to observe the Holy Days with, especially because this group's origin is untainted with the authoritarian nonsense of the Worldwide Church of God.
I look at the Jewish world versus the Christian, and compared to the thousands of Christian denominations, there are very few forms of Judaism -- and those are more a matter of style and strictness of observance, many of which are private matters in the home, than differences of belief. Diversity of belief and opinion are simply a given. In smaller communities, Orthodox and Reform Jews will go to a Conservative temple without major concern. Emphasis is more on shared practice rather than individual belief, so there isn't the feeling that the person worshipping next to you must share your opinions. Conversely, Christianity seems hooked on uniformity, and seems not to want much diversity in its congregations, which leads to so much schism and infighting. I do not need to feel the person next to me shares all my views, so long as the general belief and practice do not have to cause a conflict of conscience.
It is up to me to continue growing and learning. I cannot for a minute think that I have "arrived" because I again have some religious affiliations. Realistically, because we are talking about views that are very peripheral compared to the mainstream, and very small numbers of people with many small differences of belief and practice, often not organized into anything even like study groups, let alone congregations, I doubt that I will find a single group of people to share every aspect of community religion with. With some, I may subscribe to their articles and magazines, others I may write to, speak with, or meet occasionally with. The future is still unclear.
I am beginning to feel truer to myself, since I am no longer throwing out everything I had come to believe, just because of the source. Disbelieving something because Herbert Armstrong wrote it is as bad as believing it because he wrote it: it is the same, indefensible ad hominem argument. "The truth is the truth though it be spoken by a fool," as Shakespeare said, or a rogue, or whatever. Judgement is not mine, and the results are irrelevant to the truth or falsity of any particular thing.
I still think that Free Moral Agency is, next to the Creation itself, one of the greatest proofs of God's goodness. With our freedom comes the responsibility to make good use of it, and to judge for ourselves what the best use is.
I personally find it enlightening to read things from many sources, to avoid narrowing my perspective too much. When I think about the personal holiness of people like the Dalai Lama and Mother Teresa, I am humbled, and less cocky about absolute pronouncements. I still enjoy a reprint of a Puritan book on the Ten Commandments, written with a plain style that is strangely modern; I will always love the writings of C. S. Lewis; I enjoy the works of Rabbi Harold Kushner, as well. While reading widely didn't protect me from falling into the trap before, I do think it helped me climb out. Living completely, celebrating all aspects of humanness, including spirituality, is worth the risk.
Of course, religious beliefs have to do with how we think the universe works, so we may fit more harmoniously into it. I try to remind myself that, fascinating though the subject is to me, just as a subject, if I don't use what I've learned to improve myself and become a better person, it is really just so much waste of time-something I think most people would agree with. Self-improvement is also the hardest part, though it is fun and exciting and interesting to try to overcome the nature you'd come to believe you'd always be stuck with. Frustration, of course, also comes with the territory.
I will end with a poem from one of my favorite poets, Gerard Manley Hopkins, who also happened to be a Roman Catholic priest:
Patience, hard thing! The hard thing but to pray
But bid for, patience is, patience who asks,
Wants war, wants wounds, weary his times, his tasks,
To do without, take tosses, and obey: rare patience
Roots in these, and these away -- nowhere.
Natural heart's ivy, patience masks
Our ruins of wrecked past purpose. There he basks
Purple eyes and seas of liquid leaves all day.
We hear our hearts grate on themselves; it kills
To bruise them dearer. Yet our rebellious wills
We bend to Him even so.
Who is He who more and more distils
Delicious kindness? He is patient.
Patience fills his crisp combs
And that comes those ways we know.
1
I wrote this in early 1998, talking about late 1996.
2
This is, to the best of my recollection, somewhere in late 1992?
3
2001 note: I have shuttled back and forth on this issue over the years, and currently tend to believe in the 14th Passover, since it seems the simplest reading of the OT scriptures, and history speaks volumes about the Quartodeciman Controversy (not the Quincodeciman Controversy!), but I do not believe this kind of dispute is where people's energies should be. Many no longer believe in the need to keep the Holy Days, and while this affects our ability to get together at certain times, it does not mean we need to avoid all fellowship together. This particular point has since become a major bone of contention among ex-WCG friends, unfortunately, to the point of spoiling the whole Passover season with bitter controversy--what a waste!
