The Sign of the Cross

David Horton's sequel to Legion of Honor, entitled The Sign of the Cross: a Novel, was published by Victor Books in 1997. Our heroine is again Isabelle Karmazin, a French Jew in 1943 who has fled the Nazis and is now in Switzerland. Other Jewish characters also appear in this book, including the Levy children and a Catholic nun at the convent "Our Lady of Zion," Sister Marie-Moises. (In fact all of the nuns that work in this convent were born Jewish but converted to Catholicism).


Here is the publisher's blurb:

"In prison for his resistance activities in World War II France, Marcel Boussant longs for freedom and Isabelle Karmazin, the woman he loves. Meanwhile, Isabelle is denied entry to America. When she meets Michael Dreyfus, a Swiss Jew, she readily agrees to his dangerous scheme . . . to whisk her off to U.S. controlled territory in North Africa. What she dared not hope for, however, is that Marcel would one day return for her. Historically accurate, this rousing adventure/romance tale demonstrates that true refuge is found only in Christ."

We meet a new character, Michael Dreyfus, who was born in Switzerland but grew up in America. "As a Jew, he felt a special affinity -- even a responsibility -- for those whose fate was linked solely to their race, his race. It was more than a general need to stand against anti-Semitism. Now that he had witnessed the evil firsthand, it had suddenly begun to feel personal. One day it might be him or someone he loved."

Malfaire, an evil character (you'd guess that by his name), says to his son: "Jews aren't like us, Dede. They're dishonest, they're greedy, and they don't even believe in God -- not the real God, anyway."

As in the previous book, Isabelle again agonizes over how a righteous and all-powerful God can allow so much evil in the world:

"For years, ever since her mother died, [Isabelle] had refused to believe that the God she had often heard about -- this powerful yet benevolent supreme being -- could actually exist. If He was so good, then why did He allow her mother to die? And why all the pain? Why didn't He just heal her -- especially if He was so all-powerful? If He did exist, what kind of God could He be, anyway? Her father certainly hadn't encouraged any such belief. Superstition, he called it. Unscientific. A crutch for the weak and uneducated. Even her husband, Adam, was disdainful, especially of orthodox Jews. He simply could not understand blind adherence to some rigid set of arcane rituals. And Isabelle's own skepticism had been reinforced with each new tragedy in her life."

Oh, did we forget to mention that Isabelle is a widow?

Isabelle is influenced in a positive way by the Boussant family, who are French Protestant Christians. Even in the face of tragedy "their faith in a loving God remained firm. In fact, it had been that faith that had driven them to give her shelter, in spite of the danger. They spoke of their God -- and to Him -- as if He were some kind of all-wise friend. And it seemed so natural for them. How she had wished it were that easy for her." Isabelle is also influenced by the de Rocher family, who are Swiss Protestant Christians.

Michael Dreyfus' "parents had seen to it that he and his sister, Beatrice, were ""raised Jewish," as his mom always said, but their circle of friends and acquaintances was by no means limited to the Jewish community. Nor was their life defined by strict religious observance. They attended synagogue on many major holidays, though not necessarily all of them. And of course, Michael's bar mitzvah at age thirteen had been a day to remember. But when Bea decided to marry a Gentile, the Dreyfuses, proud of their open-mindedness, agreed to the match, provided the children would be "raised Jewish." Michael himself had dated several Gentile girls while at Columbia University. And though his parents had never raised an outright objection, his mother more than once had offered to introduce him to "a nice Jewish girl."

Marcel tells Isabelle that it is not surprising to find her in church because, he says, "I say a prayer for you every day.... Sometimes more than once." "Don't you think God will get tired of hearing about me?"... "You're just as important to Him as anyone." "I want to believe that," she said, "but it sure isn't easy.... I still have a million unanswered questions." ... [Marcel says], "But if you're like most people, you'll always have more questions than answers. Faith is more about acting on what you know than what you don't know.""

Theo says to Sister Marie-Moises, "I wish you wouldn't make it seem so, well, so nice to be a nun.... You said you wouldn't try to make us into Christians. You promised." "And you're afraid Lea might want to become one?"... I made a promise to God to give shelter to any Jewish children He brings our way. And I promised the rabbis that if they trusted me with their children, I would trust their souls to God. I have never tried to make anyone into a Christian, as you call it." (p. 258). ... "Besides," she continued, "you can't force anyone to become a Christian. It's strictly voluntary. "Well, Lea's a Jew just like Victor and me," Theo said, as emphatically as he could manage, "and we don't want to be anything else." "I respect that," she said, as she turned to go. "In fact, I used to think the very same way myself.""

Justine de Rocher gently but firmly proselytizes Isabelle several times throughout the book. She tells Isabelle that only Christ can solve her problems. At one point she says to Isabelle:

"A nation, no matter what its flag, can offer you nothing more than temporary peace and external freedoms, and even then its power is limited." "What are you saying?" [asks Isabelle]. "That I think you want the kind of peace that lasts. You want a freedom that inhabits your very being, that doesn't depend on circumstances. And it's no wonder you've been disappointed. The Swiss cross is all well and good. But it's a very pale image of the cross that stood on a hill outside Jerusalem nearly 2,000 years ago. Perhaps you've been looking to the wrong one for help."

At the end of the book, Isabelle converts to Christianity, symbolized by her wearing a small gold cross around her neck. "Isabelle, noticing that [Marcel] was staring at it, took the cross in her fingers and carefully touched it to her lips. "A gift from Justine," she murmured, "to commemorate something else I decided." And then she smiled. "It's why I'm not running away anymore."

She also decides to marry Marcel, a French Protestant Christian, as opposed to the other man who had shown an interest in her, Michael Dreyfus.

Wandering Jude speaks:

This is not a bad novel. Just sort of mediocre. Wandering Jude is not angered by the characterizations of Jews in this book, although as usual, he is disappointed that in yet another Christian novel the Jew converts to Christianity. It's so ... predictable. Even Michael Dreyfus' rejection of Christianity is predictable, since everyone knows that not all Jews will accept Christ, just the good ones. The evil Catholic named Malfaire is also a recurring character in Christian fiction featuring Jewish characters. There always has to be a villain, and in these kinds of books the villain is often a "false Christian" who can be contrasted with the "good Christians." The only surprise in this book is that there are some good Catholics (the nuns), but they are different than most Catholics like Malfaire since they are really converted Jews. And of course the real heroes in the story are the Protestant Christians who lead our heroine to Christ.

A Legion of Honor

The heroine of A Legion of Honor (written by David Horton and published by Victor Books in 1995), Isabelle Karmazin, is a secular French Jew in 1942 who is fleeing the Nazis (which is what one would expect of a French Jew in 1942). One of the French women hiding Isabelle, Tante Marthe, says to her early in the book:

"God has been good to us, and the very least we can do in return is to offer a small kindness to one of Abraham's daughters."

In response, Isabelle thinks to herself,

"And as for God -- well, even if He existed, He hadn't seemed particularly good to her lately. He was apparently more interested in people like Ginette and her family. They weren't suffering much.... No, Isabelle decided, if a good God were paying attention, her husband and her father -- perhaps even her mother -- would still be alive.... During her detention at Venissieux, she had heard plenty of talk about God: from guards who cursed the Jews as "Christ killers," to fellow Jews who suddenly rediscovered religious rites they had spent a lifetime ignoring. She found it pathetic, mostly, and so hypocritical."

Wandering Jew says: Isabelle's cynicism is understandable, to say the least. The Holocaust, today and yesterday, leaves many with the feeling that a personal God, if he exists, was "off duty" to allow such horrors. So most of us who read this book ,whether we are Jews or Christians or atheists, will feel sympathy for Isabelle's character and not judge her for her skepticism in matters religious and otherwise.

A few pages later we get a further glimpse into Isabelle's psyche:

"Since her father had not attended synagogue to speak of, nor had he compelled her to go, Isabelle freely admitted that there was a whole dimension -- the religious side -- of her Jewishness that she did not understand. ... It wasn't that she was ashamed of her heritage, though she had sometimes found it socially inconvenient. She had simply adopted her father's view that there was no place in a scientific world for anything that wasn't, well, scientific. She glanced quickly around the room, expecting to see a crucifix or a smiling likeness of Jesus or Mary -- or both -- as she had seen in other Gentiles' homes. ... She had never understood how people could revere a symbol of torture and death. Or why they insisted on treating as alive a person who had supposedly lived and died centuries ago. Jews might have their weaknesses, she mused, but Gentiles were a study in contradiction."

We meet various French and German characters who espouse anti-Semitic beliefs throughout the book. (And, to be fair, we should mention that some characters espouse pro-Jewish beliefs).

Isabelle is a secular Jew, but she's also somewhat anti-religious. She has an interesting dialog with one of her Christian rescuers:
"I have seen far too much suffering to put much faith in Christian charity. Especially when there are some who use religion to justify their hatred." Madame Boussaint responds: "I won't deny that what you say is true. But not everyone who is religious is a Christian. We all have to answer for our own sins."

Wandering Jude notes that Madame Boussaint's response to Isabelle, while somewhat compelling, is also a stock answer to skeptics from Christian apologists. "Not everyone who is religious is a Christian." Of course, what she really means is "Not everyone who is religious is a good Christian." On its face this seems obvious to the average evangelical Christian believer, but from a Jewish perspective it's a cop-out. One can't absolve Christianity for the sins of its adherents by simply saying, "Oh, that person really wasn't a Christian. He just said he was a Christian." This answer is too easy and it doesn't convince most of us.

More thoughts from Isabelle as she listens to the Christian rescuers pray and read the Scriptures:

"Isabelle had to admit that it made her very uncomfortable. It wasn't so much the Scripture reading. She had heard something similar before -- one of the ancient Hebrew prophets, she guessed -- on one of the rare occasions when she had accompanied Papa to the synagogue. But when she overheard the family's matter-of-fact prayers for her protection and well-being, she felt confused and embarrassed: confused as to why they would ask for the protection they were in face providing; embarrassed at the thought that, having just met, they already cared for her."

At the end of the book, Isabelle does not become a Christian, but she develops a new appreciation for the religious faith of the Christians who took care of her before she escaped into Switzerland. But reader beware: there is a sequel coming that Wandering Jude will address in the next few days.

The Chalice of Israel

The Chalice of Israel: Four Novellas Bound by Love, Enchantment, and Tradition, published in 2001 by Barbour Publishing, contains two stories (the third and fourth novellas) which are conversion narratives. In "Cup of Honor," Holocaust survivors Leah and Reuven Shapira emigrate to Israel in 1948. While this love story clearly becomes proselytizing toward the end of the novella, there are few hints of this in the main body of the story. The epilogue to this novella states that Joshua Ben Ami (Leah's husband) "came to believe the Messiah had come. Jesus had poured out His blood for them as the cup's inscription said. Joshua gave his heart to Christ, and Leah soon followed him. They believed the Son of God would come again and bring peace to the land of Israel." (p. 250).

The fourth novella in this book, "Cup of Praise," follows several Jewish characters in Jerusalem, including Sarah Reuben and Michael Van Gelder. Michael tells Sarah how he came to believe in Jesus: "It's all there. And history supports the fact that Yeshua fulfilled all the prophecies. All of them! There's no way to doubt that He was and is God's Son, our Messiah." (p. 271).

Wandering Jude would like to make a friendly neighborhood public service reminder: "It's not all there. History does not support this assertion that Jesus fulfilled all the prophecies. Not all of them. Not even close. And yes, there are plenty of ways to doubt his being the son of God."

Sarah's response to Michael: ""You're not a Jew anymore." His betrayal of his family and his people rocked her to the core. "I could never have imagined you'd do such a thing! I could forgive you most anything, but this is far beyond a crime. You've denied everything we are!" Michael responds: "Please don't think that way. Let me tell you why I am now a completed Jew." (p. 272).

Michael states that "Yeshua was a Jewish rabbi." (p. 290).

WJ: Um, maybe a proto-rabbi. More probably an itinerant preacher.

Sarah states, "Michael, everyone knows that our Messiah will come and be King." "That's right. He'll be coming again as King. Burt first He had to be our pesach, our Passover Lamb." (p. 296).

During a Passover seder, "Sarah found it very significant that the middle matzah was the one broken, hidden away, and finally redeemed and distributed. Michael said it was at this point in Yeshua's last Passover with His disciples that He had said, "This is my body which is given for you." She looked closely at it before she ate with the rest of the family. It was pierced, as Yeshua was. She was sure the stripes and lack of leaven all had meaning too... As a sacrifice lamb, Yeshua had poured out His blood for her." (p. 331).

Sarah says to Michael, "I believe Yeshua is Messiah and want to know what I have to do next. ... Looking into her beautiful blue eyes, he said, "Let's kneel." They did, and he led her in prayer, confessing her doubts and sins and asking Yeshua to come into her heart." (p. 333).

Final Thoughts

Wandering Jude doesn't have much to say about The Chalice of Israel, except that the characters are one dimensional, the theological arguments are simplistic, and the dialogue is trite. Plus, Jews don't kneel when they pray. When Sarah and Michael kneel to say the "sinner's prayer," they reveal the author's ignorance of Judaism and their own rejection of Jewish tradition.

Oh, one more thing. The reference to the stripes on the matzah as being a symbolic allusion to Jesus ("by his stripes we are healed") is a canard repeated by many missionaries but rejected by all biblical scholars, even evangelical scholars.

They Shall See God

Athol Dickson, an architect-turned-novelist, wrote They Shall See God in 2002 (published by Tyndale House, a reliably evangelical publishing house). This novel, a love story but really more of a suspense thriller, has several Jewish characters, including two rabbis, one of whom is a major character in the book. Rabbi Ruth Gold's character is nuanced and complex. Though the novel is a suspenseful story of a serial murderer, underneath the author deals with various religious and social issues, including interfaith understanding, conversion to a different religion, and loyalty to one's own religion. While Jews are not stereotyped in this novel, nevertheless they do not fare well. One commits suicide. Four are killed (one is shot, one is poisoned, one is mauled by a tiger and then drowned, and one is burned to death by boiling tar). Two are shot at (in separate scenes) and one of these two almost dies. Another is stabbed but survives. Two die of fatal diseases. One appears to have a mental disorder. Three Jews convert to Christianity (two of these three are already dead by the time the book begins, but are introduced in flashbacks. The third is a secret convert who is not revealed to be so until the end of the book).

Some of the Jews and Christians in the novel are involved in interfaith (dating or marriage) relationships. Most of the characters in the book are good, decent people, albeit with flaws. No one has all the answers. Both Christians and Jews in the book are portrayed from their own religious point of view. I don't think the book has as its intention to convert anyone, just to promote interfaith understanding and to provide a good suspenseful read. A nice change of pace from your typical evangelical novel with Jewish characters.

The plot as it unfolds reveals three characters in the book who were born Jewish and then convert to Christianity, though these conversions happen chronologically before the events of the book take place. On the other hand, there are no converts to Judaism in the book. (Not that this is a surprise. Evangelical novels rarely depict Christians converting to Judaism, and if they do, the results are not pretty).

Sometimes the dialog between Jewish characters seems a bit pretentious. Witness Rabbi Ruth Gold, who early in the book says to her boyfriend, Steve: "Instead of rounding up a minyan to say kaddish, I was wondering if you'd come to Mama's grave to light a yahrzeit candle with me, and say shehecheyanu?" (p. 3). Hmm. How about a little lox with that shmear?

The author, through some of his Christian characters, makes clear his philo-semitic intentions: "The Last Supper was a Passover celebration led by Jesus, who was called rabbi at that table in the upper room," said the minister. "Jesus was a Jew, of course, as were all of his apostles and most of those who believed in him. Yet we often make the mistake of blaming his crucifixion on the Jewish people, as if they were of one mind in the matter." (p. 34).

Reverend Cahill, one of the few unambiguously good characters in They Shall See God, goes on with his sermon:

"The Roman soldiers in Pilate's Jerusalem garrison were from many countries around the Mediterranean. It might have been Spanish hands that drove the spikes through Jesus' wrists, or Greek. If God had wanted us to believe that Jews are guilty of Jesus' death in a special way, why not allow them to stone our Lord to death in the Jewish fashion? It is no accident that God chose the Roman cross instead, as a reminder that all the world, Jew and Gentile alike, has an equal share in the guilt of sin." ... "So when our Bibles speak of 'the Jews' condemning Jesus, we must remember that term is a kind of literary shorthand for 'the Jewish leaders.' And we must remember that not even all the Jewish leaders opposed Christ. Our Bibles describe some Pharisees and even temple priests accepting Jesus as their Messiah and their God."" (p. 35).

A member of his congregation, obviously a bit deranged, responds to Reverend Cahill by screaming out, "The Jews rejected Christ! They killed him! They killed Stephen! They stoned Paul! And God has abandoned them to their sin!" ... "Read your Bibles! Read Acts! The Jews were a curse on the first Christians! A curse!" (p. 36).

More Jewish rituals from our rabbi protagonist:

Rabbi Gold lit a yahrzeit candle, placed it on her parents' tombstone, and said the shehecheyanu: "Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha'olam shehecheyanu v'kiy'manu v'higianu lazman hazeh. Amen." "She felt a peace creep into her heart. It was the comfort of tradition, of belonging, of knowing she was merely a link in the chain that stretched from Abraham and Sarah to the Messiah, may he quickly come." (p. 41).

Wandering Jude is interested in this Reform rabbi's wish for the coming of the Messiah. Ah, perhaps it's only metaphorical....

"Benny Rothstein sat in a circle of light, enjoying Rashi's commentary on the Talmud. He licked his thumb and turned the page. Such wonderfully simple and straightforward insights, yet so filled with deeper meaning. Such a perfect way to close this Rosh Hashanah evening. Morton preferred Ibn Ezra, but Benny thought he was difficult to follow sometimes, even on the third or fourth reading. Benny was of the opinion that complex writing concealed incomplete thoughts. It took tremendous wisdom and clarity of mind to explain the great truths of Torah in ways that anyone could understand, and for clarity, you just couldn't beat Rashi. But of course, it only made sense that Morton would be wrong. How could he know anything? He was a man who worked on Erev Rosh Hashanah when he should be home or at temple busying himself with Torah." (p. 57).

While Wandering Jude can be cynical at times, he must admit that Dickson does a nice job of getting into the minds of his Jewish characters without patronizing them or telegraphing his character development intentions. If only more Christian novelists could reach these heights.

The villain of the book, Rev. Orvis Smith (sort of a mix between Jerry Falwell and Adolf Hitler), thinks to himself about "the godless Jews." ... "Apostle to the Hebrews in this day and age? It took the patience of Job. Yet, after everything the Jews did to the Savior, after the terrible persecutions they had inflicted on Christians and all those centuries of denying Jesus, God still chose to reach out to this children with the message of salvation." (p. 66).

Well, Dickson's villain is not very nuanced, but perhaps that's what really goes on in the minds of anti-Semites.

"Normally [Ruth Gold] didn't eat nonkosher meats, but like many Reform Jews, she wasn't rigid about keeping kosher, and today, the catfish was a small gesture of acrimonious defiance against a God who allowed murderers to go free and good men to die and anti-Semitism to endure for centuries." (p. 74).

Rabbi Gold is described several times in the book as being an "exotically attractive woman" who had "olive skin, short black hair, and huge, dark brown eyes." (p. 80). Oh my. Wandering Jude knows many individuals who would like to meet Rabbi Gold.

Kate (a lapsed Christian) and Ruth have a conversation after meeting for the first time in 25 years: Kate says, "My husband was raised Conservative." He was Jewish?" "uh-huh." Ruth looked at Kate appraisingly. "Did you convert?" Kate met her eyes. "No. He did." Ruth looked away. Kate said, "I mean, he had already converted when I met him in our singles group at church." "I see," said Ruth, still looking away. .... "So. You're a rabbi. Who would've guessed? "My dad, for one." "He was a rabbi too, remember?" "I don't think I ever knew that." "Yes. If there's a single reason for my choice, I guess that'd be it. He raised me to love Judaism." So if your father was a rabbi, I guess that means rabbis can get married?" "Of course. There's no vow of celibacy. That's a Christian thing." ... "But John, my husband, didn't have any Jewish friends and didn't talk much about his backgroun. And I haven't met very many Jews, except for him and his parents." ... "Actually, when John became a Christian they had a falling out. And they didn't like him marrying me. That pretty much shut down all communication until the kids came along. Then they thawed out a little, but we're still not real friendly, you know?" (p. 82).

Ruth asks Kate if she is raising her children as Christians or as Jews. "They're Christians. I mean, that's what I am, and like I said, John was Jewish, but he was a Christian too." Ruth smiled slightly. "That's like saying your car was a Ford, but it was a Chrysler." "Well, you know what I mean." The rabbi nodded. "I suppose." (p. 84).

The reader gets a glimpse into Kate's mind:

"The moment Ruth had mentioned coming to her temple, an unreasoning terror of the unknown had seized Kate's mind. She remembered the bitter baricade of mistrust and anger that had once stood between John and his parents. They had lashed out sometimes, actually calling him a traitor. They had accused the church of brainwashing him, as if it were some sort of cult. They had accused Kate herself of playing a role in the "indoctrination" of their son, ignoring the fact that he had chosen the Christian faith long before they met. John had done his best to help Kate understand their animosity. He had spoken of evils in the Dark Ages and of anti-Semitic affronts in the present. Still, as she considered Ruth's invitation, such hostility was hard to forget. What if I say the wrong thing? I don't even know how to dress. Should I take my Bible, or will the New Testament offend them? What if they say something bad about Jesus? Should I speak up? If I do, will they throw me out?" (p. 133).

Ruth thinks: "What had Katy said? Oh, yes: "I think God wants me to be there." Ruth gritted her teeth. She knew what that meant. Asking Katy to come to temple had been a mistake. Deep down, Christians were all the same. No different than those obnoxious ones who stood out by the parking lot with their cardboard Jesus signs." (p. 138).

"As sunset approached, Ruth labored at a large table in the temple library, surrounded by open volumes of Talmud and Torah commentaries. Preparing for the Shabbes Torah study was usually the high point of her week, an opportunity to immerse herself in texts and commentaries, to walk Herod's Temple with Hillel and Shammai, to dialogue with Maimonides and Ibn Ezra, to reflect upon the mind of God, and in one sense perhaps, to see his face and live." (p. 140-141).

Helen Blumenthal, a Jewish psychiatrist, thinks: "Tonight, the rabbi had spoken of the need to credit God with who we are. Helen wondered where God had been when her father lost his home to the Nazis at the age of thirteen. Where was God when an eighteen year old girl inherited the duties of her dead parents, raising her sisters without help? Where was God while she slaved on the graveyard shift in an all-night diner for fifty-cent tips, and endured the pompous abuse of professors all day? God certainly seemed to have little mercy for the never-ending stream of lost and dispossessed patients passing through her office week after week, each one a walking example of the futility of faith." (pp. 150-151).

Rebecca Betterton, a middle aged Jewish woman, thinks deep thoughts to which the reader becomes privy:

"[She] tried to imagine what it would be like to be dead. There seemed to be three possibilities. Either nothing happened and you just stopped, or you went to heaven or hell. She didn't believe she might come back in another life. Not for a minute. That was just silly. And if this world is all there is, why then, what difference does it make? When you're dead, you're not going to care anymore, right?" But what if there was a heaven and a hell?.... To tell the truth, she wasn't sure where she'd end up. Her parents had done their best to teach her about the Jewish faith. ... Neither of them cared much for the Orthodox ways of their youth, so they had joined the Reform temple over near the park and raised Rebecca to believe it was her right to choose which parts of her heritage made the most sense. When she was sixteen, she quit going to temple. They tried to force her, but she turned their own logic back on them, saying she had a right to choose which parts of her faith to observe, and she chose to have nothing more to do with it." (pp. 164-165).

"Suddenly, [Rebecca's first husband] was nailing a mezuzah to the doorframe and running around town wearing his yarmulke in public. "What are you doing?" she had asked, afraid she'd be seeing the fringes of a prayer shawl dangling from under his shirt any day. "My duty as a father," he had replied. Sidney had tried to get her to join an Orthodox synagogue, but she wasn't about to sit behind the mechitza, screened off from the men like some inferior person. She had told her husband he would wait a lifetime before he got her to worship God Almighty from the back of the shul behind a curtain.... After a couple of weeks of the silent treatment, Sidney had proposed a compromise. That was how Rebecca had found herself rejoining Temple Brit Yisrael after almost ten years. She and Sidney had paid their dues and attended services almost every Shabbat. Aaron grew up playing at the Northside Jewish Community Center on Saturday afternoons after temple, and going to the children's classes on Sunday mornings. When it was time for his Bar Mitzvah, Rebecca had been so proud to see him standing on the bima in his yarmulke and talit, reading Hebrew like a little rabbi." (pp. 165-166).

Kate begins a romantic relationship with a Jewish man, Jake Singer, but she has misgivings and "conflicted emotions. No good can come of this, she thought. He's a Jew and I'm a Christian. What am I doing?" (p. 189).

Ruth remembers a conversation with her brother ten years earlier. Ruth asks Isaac why he still wants to go to high holiday services even though he has made a profession of faith in Christ. "What kind of question is that? I'm still part of this family! I'm still a Jew!" "No, you're not, Isaac. You threw that away." His head jerked back but his shoulders remained motionless. It was an odd reaction, as if she had struck a physical blow. For a moment they stood still, staring at teach other, and then Isaac turned and left without another word." (p. 193).

Ruth and Kate have a conversation about proselytizing:

"All I'm saying is, sometimes honest conviction looks like arrogance to outsiders. If you really believed you had something that could make everyone's life better, not just here and now but for all eternity, wouldn't you want to share that good news with the world?" "I wouldn't try to cram it down people's throats!" But wouldn't you want to share something like that? I mean, if it was true, wouldn't sharing it be the only right thing to do?" Ruth erupted. "How would you feel if we showed up outside your church next Easter with signs that said 'The Messiah hasn't come yet,' or 'Trust Moses'?" ... "I'm not defending what they're doing. I'm just saying ---" "I know what you're saying, and I'm not buying it. If those people really cared so much about us, they'd give us some respect and behave with common decency."

Rabbi Ruth Gold goes to a cemetery to visit her parents' graves. "[Ruth] believed Hashem in his mercy protected her here. Some rabbis avoided cemeteries because they were tref -- unclean -- but like most Reform rabbis, Ruth ignored that particular bit of biblical law. In the best liberal tradition, she chose to observe the traditions that seemed to fit her life as Hashem had created her, and she respectfully declined to be bound by the others." (pp. 243-244).

"The Torah did not speak of a life after death, at least not clearly. There was much rabbinic debate in the Talmud on the subject, and of course the references in the prophets and writings were well known, but one had to stretch the text very thinly to arrive at a teaching of afterlife in the five books of Moses. When pressed by an instructor at Hebrew Union College several years ago, she had taken the position that this life was all we could expect. If heaven wasn't in Torah, it probably didn't exist. Several times since her ordination, congregants and fellow rabbis had challenged her on that. She always returned to the Scriptures to defend her position, and yet, as Ruth stared at the carved names of her mother and father, her heart filled with an undeniable longing. ... a vague and inexpressible desire, like hunger for a particular kind of food that she had never eaten.... " (p. 244).

Rabbi Ruth prays:

"Hashem, I know Judaism is about making a difference here and now, but you have also filled me with a need to be rid of this world, to enter into something better. As Abraham and Moses rested with their fathers, I want to see my parents again. But I'm afraid. What if this is nothing but selfishness or egotism? What if I only feel this way because of my troubles? She sighed. Hashem, please show me the truth. Opening her eyes, she blinked against the sunshine and ... awaited God's answer. .... it would be nice to believe in a world to come. Maybe later she could find something in the Torah to offer reassurance. Ruth Gold believed all of the answers were there, if only she could understand." (p. 245).

"Jews bury their dead quickly because they do not embalm the bodies. It is a tradition handed down through the centuries, grounded in the hope that the resurrection will find the Jewish dead ready and waiting their bodies whole, including the blood..... Since Ruth did not believe in resurrection, she did not care one way or the other, except, perhaps, for the fact that the money saved by not embalming the body could be given to the poor." (pp. 255-256).

Kate is talking to her romantic interest, Jake Singer. "He [Kate's deceased husband] converted when he was eighteen. About two years before I met him." "Converted to Judaism?" "No, to Christianity." She paused. "His parents didn't speak to him for years. "Not at all?" "No." Jake shook his head. "Some of us are so suspicious of your faith that we do some pretty mean things." "Mean doesn't begin to cover it, Jake. And it wasn't just his family. Even some of his friends quit talking to him. He tried everything he could think of to get them to ... to take him back, I guess you'd say. But a lot of them -- friends and family both -- acted like he'd doen something criminal. They broke John's heart." ... [Jake responded]: I'll bet they said it was John breaking their heart." (p. 269).

Reverend Orvis Smith, the villain of the book thinks to himself: "The Day of Atonement. What hypocrisy! As if a few chants, an apology, and a toot on the horn of a dead animal could make up for a lifetime of miserable failure." (p. 305).

An evangelist says to Jews entering the Reform temple on Yom Kippur: "There's no atonement in that building! Open your Torahs! Read Leviticus! 'For the life of the flesh is in the blood, and I have given it to you upon the altar to make an atonement for your souls. For it is the blood that maketh an atonement for the soul.' Where is the blood in this Day of Atonement of yours?" ... "You have no temple in Jerusalem for your sacrifices because only one offering is pleasing to God now, only the crucifixion of Jesus Christ! Trust in your Messiah! Believe in his sacrifice for your sake and you will be saved!" (p. 306).

As the shofar is blown on Yom Kippur: "Tekia, shevarim - terua, tekia. Tekia, dhevarim, tekia. Tekia, terua, tekia. For a moment, in the midst of the impossibly beautiful sounds, Ruth saw an unbroken string of notes -- pearls hanging from a golden thread, rubies woven through time itself to connect her and this day with Moshe blowing the first shofar on Mt. Sinai. That first time, the purpose of the blasts had been to warn Israel not to repeat their sin with the golden calf while Moshe remained high above, receiving Torah. Now, the shofar called them to account for the sins they had already committed. Ruth closed her eyes as the last of the notes echoed in her heart. For a moment, she saw the path to repentance just ahead. She longed to set foot upon it. She longed for teshuva -- to return." (p. 317).

Ruth is talking to Kate about the many horrors of Jewish history at the hands of Christians. "I didn't tell you those things to make you feel guilty, Katy. I mean, it's not like I think any of it's your fault. But if we're gonna be getting to know each other again after all these years, it's important for you to understand some things about me." "I think I do. You grew up in a culture that sees my faith as the enemy." "No, that's overstating it. Most of us don't think of Christians as enemies, and that's not what I meant, anyway. I'm talking about you and me.".... "I mean, imagine how we hate to tell our children these things. It's much more delicate than the birds and the bees ... having to deliberately begin the end of your child's innocence in order to protect her." (p. 377).

Kate says to Ruth: "But I believe [Jesus] was also God, who became one of us, one of the least of us, so that nobodies like me could know he really understands our pain, and believe in him, and be saved from just the kind of thing you're--" "You're preaching to a rabbi," snapped Ruth. "Don't try to convert me. It's insulting." (p. 379).

Ruth thinks she is about to die. She "covered her head with her hands and rocked back and forth, whispering, "Shema Yisrael Adonai Elohim Adonai echad. Shema Yisrael Adonai." (p. 404).

At a Jewish funeral, "many of the older women wore black lace veils. Most of the men wore yarmulkes. ... A group of ten men stood in a circle around the grave, chanting in unison, rocking back and forth slightly. Kate did not understand the Hebrew words, but the grief that rose with each syllable cast its bitter shadow upon her. Rabbi Samuel Gottlieb stood at the foot of the plot, leading the ceremony. Unlike his dress at most religious services, the rabbi did not wear his simple black robe with the gleaming shite strip of fabric draped across his shoulders, something Kate had learned to call a talit. .... She had come to understand that many of the trappings of Christian worship had their roots in the Jewish culture. A bishop's skull cap and robe, a minister's prayer shawl, the Christmas candles, the Lord's Supper, and a new believer's baptism -- all of these icons of her faith had been borrowed from the Jews." (p. 421).

Solomon Cantor reveals that he is a Christian. He "knelt before the simple wooden cross upon the wall. He clasped his hands together and bowed his head." (p. 423).

Solomon Cantor says "I told Gabby I still believe Adonai is one. I'm still a Jew. I am. But I believe in Jesus, too. I believe God is one, and I believe he's three. It makes no sense, but who am I to understand? I mean, he's God Almighty. You don't understand God. You just believe." (p. 425).

"Gabrielle Cantor had sacrificed son and husband to an ancient fear, and now Ruth could no longer flee the haunting memory of a very young woman, a foolish, untested rabbi who once did much the same. She whispered, "Are you saying all these evil things have happened because Gabby was angry when you converted?" ... "And in her mind, Ruth Gold saw the pitiful form of her brother Isaac on his deathbed." ... "Adonai, she prayed. Forgive me! And finally , she thought to push instead of pull, and the door flew open, and a brilliant white light came flooding in." (p. 428).

Concluding Thoughts:

Wandering Jude must admit that this novel, despite its minor flaws, is an engaging story filled with smart yet ambivalent characters. It tells the Christian story like it should be told, with sin and grace and repentance and mercy. Yes, there are some Jewish conversions to Christianity (though none occur during the events of the novel; all are told in flashback or some other kind of past tense literary device). But the conversions seem real, not forced. And the Jew we most of all expect to convert does not, though she changes in subtle yet life-changing ways. The rabbi remains a rabbi who does not believe in Jesus, yet she becomes more aware of Christianity's potential power and she finally forgives her brother for his conversion. The anti-semitic villain is sharply drawn; there is nothing good about him, despite his theological orthodoxy. His biblical allusions are empty and powerless, and ultimately violent, yet we feel pity for him. He is a pathetic figure, who knows the words of the Bible yet cannot grasp their meaning. In the end, his violent perversion of the Bible is contrasted with the life-affirming meaning found by both Jewish and Christian characters.

Athol Dickson, the author of this fine novel, is an evangelical Christian who, we are sure, desires the salvation of his Jewish friends. Yet he has written this book in such a way that (on some level) it's OK for Jews not to convert to Christianity. And that is probably the most we can hope for from the evangelicals among us. It certainly is a better alternative to the blatant proselytizing that occurs in so many books of this genre.

Monday's Child

Linda Chaikin, a Christian romance novelist, has a surname that would suggest Jewish ancestry or a Jewish husband. Her website gives no indication of this, however. But Monday's Child, published by Harvest House Publishers in 1999, clearly has both romance and Jewish conversion on its mind.

One of several Jewish characters in this book is Jorden Keller, an Israeli Mossad agent (who grew up in Texas). Another is Stella Cohen (who goes by the pseudonym of Ava St. John, supposedly an actress), who is an American Jew and a former Mossad agent. Other Israelis in this book (all Mossad agents) include Ziv, Meir, and Avi Hirschel. The Israeli agents are looking for a Nazi war criminal. Stella Cohen is looking for a family heirloom and a secret Swiss bank account lost in the Holocaust. The main character of the book, Krista von Buren, is a devout Christian who discovers that her mother was born a Jew and then was adopted by Christians when her parents (Krista's grandparents) were sent to Auschwitz.

Krista "considered the Jews beloved for the Father's sake. Why should one loathe the family from which Jesus had been born? But many did, accusing them of the crucifixion of Christ. In blindness, the Jewish religious rulers had rejected Him, but it was the Romans who had executed Him." (p. 42).

Paul states [regarding Jewish inquiries into money deposited into Swiss banks during World War II], "The Jews come here demanding! Demanding! They're offensive!" [Krista] smiled stiffly. "It is your manner that is offensive." (p. 67).

Paul is Krista's boyfriend? Wandering Jude thinks he knows where this is heading....

"The stars [in a ring] could also pass for the Christian cross. [Jorden] knew why a Christian cross might be arranged in the center of the star of King David. There were friends who were trying to prove to him that Jesus was the promised Jewish Messiah. He had to admit that the Old Testament prophecies pointed to Jesus' fulfillment. Since he hadn't been raised Orthodox, considering Jesus as the Messiah didn't disturb him as it apparently did many religious Jews. Also, his mother was a Gentile and about as Texan as one could get." (p. 111).

Sounds like Jorden is almost a Christian already. Wandering Jude predicts that it won't take much for him to convert.

Krista's boyfriend Paul says to her: "I wish you wouldn't go off on a crusade for the Jews every time he mentions them." "I didn't. I just don't feel comfortable when the family makes anti-Semitic remarks..." "That's absurd. No one is against the Jews. You look for such remarks. One would think that you were one." (p. 151).

Oh, Paul. What are you going to do when you discover the truth about your girlfriend, whose secret (and as yet unknown even by her) ancestry will reveal her to be a Jewess? Wandering Jude hopes to high heaven that Krista will drop Paul before this anti-Semite finds out the truth. (But will Krista change her very non-Jewish name?).

Jorden thinks to himself of the "Throne of Judgment": "What of me?... The words of the Christian Jewish group who had been witnessing to him in Dallas came to mind suddenly: Yeshua is our Passover Lamb." (p. 183).

Wandering Jude must interject here to point out various non sequitors here. For instance, the whole concept of Passover Lamb is kind of strange. Anyone who reads the story of Passover in the book of Exodus or in any Passover Haggadah will notice that the Passover lamb plays a very tiny role in the story. And another thing. The Passover lamb as a symbol for forgiveness seems to be a mixed metaphor. In the original Passover story, the lamb's blood protected the Hebrews in Egypt from the Angel of Death that passed through the land. But the metaphor of Jesus as the Passover Lamb is focused on the concept of forgiveness, which seems to be more of a "Day of Atonement" idea than a Passover concept. Think about it.

Jorden's "soul found a new path of thought, one he had not asked for, nor explored to its inevitable end. The Old Testament scriptures the Jewish Christian group in Dallas had patiently pointed out to him came to mind as they often did in the silence of the night, when he least expected to be thinking about them: Isaiah 53 and Psalm 22. He had memorized them as a boy in Synagogue school. The rabbi said that it spoke of Israel as the suffering servant of Yahweh, but Jorden knew this did not fit. Israel was not the righteous suffering servant. Israel had rebelled and was in need of a great Day of Atonement for its national sins. The servant Isaiah wrote about was a person. A person rejected by his own and horribly abused, yet cherished by the God of Abraham.... The Jewish group insisted the prophecies spoke of Yeshua -- Jesus. ... Who else could Isaiah and David have been writing about except Jesus? ... Why don't you ask Yahweh? Why don't you read the New Testament the Jewish Christians gave to you? Why do you keep it close in your bag, but never open it? What are you afraid of?" (p. 201-202).

Wandering Jude thinks this paragraph is so....fertile. First of all, what Jewish kid memorizes Isaiah 53 and Psalm 22? Nope, not going to happen. Second of all, the question of "who else could Isaiah and David have been writing about?" is ludicrous. Both passages are poetry, for one thing, written several hundred years before Jesus was born. And a simple reading of the text clearly leaves a lot of room for ambiguity in terms of the subject of these poems. One would hope that Jorden, a reasonably intelligent and educated person, would consult some scholarly sources like Jewish commentaries (or liberal Christian commentaries, for that matter) before basing his conversion to a different religion on the word of some religious fanatics back in Dallas.

Jorden says to Krista (about a friend of his): "The lady is a Gentile friend of Israel. Throughout her life she's worked for Jewish causes at personal risk. She was married to a Jewish doctor who survived Birkenau. She led him into Christianity and later he went to theology school and became a missionary to Jews in Switzerland." (p. 286).

And this proves...exactly what?

Krista asks Jorden, "The CIA isn't accusing me of selling jewelry from Holocaust victims, are they?" "No. They're not into Jewish justice," he stated flatly. That's left to Israel and her unrelenting secret police." (p. 302).

Krista and Jorden begin to fall in love, but Krista is hesitant. She says to him: "You don't share my faith." "I believe in God and the Old Testament Scriptures. Doesn't that count?" "Yes. Oh, Jorden, don't you see?" "No," he stated quietly.... "What if we fell in love?" He smiled. [Krista says] "No matter how honorable and courageous you are, or how much I care ... how would we resolve the issue of marriage, of children, of everything? Would you let me send our children to a Christian Sunday School?" (p. 344). Later Krista prays: "Please Lord, help Jorden come to know you as Messiah, Israel's Redeemer whom the Old Testament Scriptures foretold." (p. 345).

Ah, the dilemma of the Gentile Christian woman who falls in love with the brave, handsome Israeli Jew. Interfaith marriage was never so romanticized!

Discussing Wilhelm's suicide, Krista says: "Horrible, isn't it? I hate to think where he is now -- having rejected God's provision for forgiveness." Stella [Cohen] looked offended. "Do you think it even matters after what he did? Are you trying to tell me that a just God could forgive a man like Wilhelm? A Gestapo agent? A murderer of thousands?" Krista knew she must be careful in her answer. "I like to remember what Isaiah wrote before predicting the sufferings of Christ: 'Come now, and let us reason together,' says the Lord, 'Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow...'" "But the prophet wrote that to Israel. And since then many Jews have suffered. What do the sufferings of Christ have to do with forgiving wicked men like Wilhelm?" "Because ultimately, all sin is against God. He is the only one who can forgive it. And you are right, because God is just, He can't just dismiss it. That is where the suffering Messiah comes in. Only the Creator of all men was great enough to make possible the forgiveness of all men's sins." Stella toyed with her glass. "It sounds like you're saying Jesus is like the Passover Lamb. I'll need to think about that. I've heard Jorden say much the same thing." (p. 355).

Again with this Passover Lamb business. Wandering Jude is getting annoyed with Stella the Israeli Mossad agent. The only way she could come up with the ferkakta idea of the Passover Lamb is through the puppetmaster writer of this dreck. When John the Baptist in the New Testament says "Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world," methinks he was not alluding to the Feast of Unleavened Bread. But maybe that's just me.

Krista discovers that her mother was Jewish, that she and Stella are second cousins, and that her grandparents had died at Auschwitz. "All these years she had been hotly against anything hinting of anti-Semitism, but she had done so as a Gentile. Now she was suddenly Jewish." (p. 357).

OK, that explains a lot! Wandering Jude is suddenly relieved. But won't you change your name, Krista?

"It's not the genocide alone that grieves me, but the grizzly, diabolical ways in which the Nazis went about killing us. Satan hates the Jews because God used them as a depository for His truth. He used them to write the Scriptures and to fulfill His promise to send the Messiah through the tribe of Judah." (p. 360).

Not grieved by genocide?? Um.....OK. If that's the way you want it. But Wandering Jude thinks genocide by itself is a pretty nasty business.

Franz says to Krista (about Jorden): "We had a long discussion in the car tonight on the way back from the safehouse. I feel he's very close to believing in Christ as the promised Messiah. You must be patient. Don't push him, but pray. Let the Spirit of God do the convicting. Jorden already knows the Scriptures. I was amazed at how much." Krista also lowered her voice: "There's been a Christian lady who has been praying for him for five years." "He's close to a decision. Rest the matter with the Lord." (p. 370).

He's close.... he's close. Don't push him. (Wandering Jude might even suggest reverse psychology. Why not play the devil's advocate and suddenly begin to argue against Christianity? That might really bring Jorden's conversion about much more quickly!)

Jorden says to Krista: "Isn't there a verse in Hebrews that says, "Today, if you will hear His voice, do not harden your hearts?"" "Yes. So you've been reading the New Testament?" I've worked my way through it once and am now reading Matthew for the second time." (p. 371-372).

Oh, Jorden. Wandering Jude had such high hopes for you. After all, it's not many Texas Jewboys who end up in the Mossad.

Jorden is thinking to himself about how bad Eichmann was, but then he hears a silent voice say to him: "What about your sins?" Mine!? "In the sight of a holy God you too are guilty of breaking the Mosaic Law. Have you kept all Ten Commandments perfectly, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty-five days a year, year in and year out?" No. "Then you let me take care of men like Eichmann. You make certain of your own soul, otherwise you too will stand before the throne and be judged by what is written in the books. But if you turn to Me, and accept My substitutionary death for you on the cross, I will wash away your sins. Like Jacob, your name will be changed to a prince with God. You will be a true son of Israel, and I, your true Father." ... My conscience, he thought. He knew it was more than that. What had Saul of Tarsus said on the Damacus Road on his route to persecute Christians? "Who are you, Lord?" Jorden already knew his name; it was Jesus, Yeshua in Hebrew. He had just called Jesus "Lord." He knew enough about the Scriptures to realize that to own Jesus as Lord meant that he also acknowledged Jesus as the true Passover Lamb, the one true offering to atone for sin. Why else would Jesus have died on the cross at Passover time?" ... Savior and Lord, Lamb of God, King of Israel, Head of the true Church made up of both Jews and Gentiles. What else had Saul said on the Damascus road? "Lord, what will You have me to do?" (p. 380-381).

People obsess about Eichmann a lot in this book. Wandering Jude thinks it might be better to obsess about Mengele or another Nazi who escaped justice. After all, Eichmann was hanged in Jerusalem. He got his just reward.

And the Passover Lamb again rears his ugly head.

"Yes, Lord, I believe that You are the Christ that should come into the world. ... If Jesus Christ was alive at the right hand of God, if Jesus had conquered sin, the grave, and hell, if He had a future for Israel and a plan for the world, then all was not lost. Jorden felt no tidal wave of emotion, only conviction. He must act on the truth. "Lord Jesus, I believe You are the promised Messiah, and I accept you as my Savior and King." Peace filled his mind and spirit, along with a joy he had not previously known. Peace with the holy God -- through His beloved Son! Peace with God -- at last!" (p. 382).

Peace at last. Wandering Jude is happy that Jorden is finally at peace with himself. Just don't try to justify it with a theological mishmash.

When Krista learns of Jorden's new beliefs, she gives me the choice of a celebratory meal of sandwiches made with either "sausage and egg or cheese and bacon." (p. 386).

And what's wrong with a good pastrami on rye with mustard?

Wings of Refuge

Romance is in the air. Wandering Jude sees the writing on the wall, and it's mostly love stories. That's right. Conversion narratives masquerading as romance novels. Over the next few weeks we'll discuss a variety of evangelical Christian novels that have at their core both romance and conversion to Christianity. Wandering Jude warns the reader not to get too excited. These are not "bodice-rippers." There is no sex to speak of; these love stories are definitely PG or in some cases even G. Nothing remotely close to PG-13 or R territory.

Lynn Austin, a master of the Christian romance genre, wrote Wings of Refuge in 2000. In this book, Benjamin Rosen is an Israeli secret service agent, an Orthodox Jew, and a horticulturalist. He befriends the protagonist of the novel, Abby MacLeod, but is murdered by terrorists. His cousin is Hannah Rahov, who is an archaeologist that Abby works with on her trip to Israel. Hannah is a "Jewish believer in Yeshua." Ari Bazak is another archaeologist that Abby meets. Many other Israelis are featured in this novel of romance and (some) suspense. The novel also uses a common device and portrays a number of early Jews and Jewish Christians from the 1st century.

Wandering Jude usually avoids pointing out inaccuracies in these books, given that they are so common, but this time he couldn't resist. E.g., it's unlikely that Rosen would touch Abby in the way he does on the plane since he is an Orthodox Jew. (p. 24). Rosen also writes in a Bible. No-no. Also, Wandering Jude doesn't think that Ari is short for Aaron. (p. 34).

Here are some excerpts from the book:

"Abby stared. "Excuse me if this sounds rude, but aren't you Jewish?" "Yes." "but ... you just quoted Jesus." "I'm a Jewish believer in Yeshua -- Jesus, the Messiah promised in the Jewish Scriptures," Hannah said. ... "I hope there will be an opportunity to share my own spiritual journey with you before this summer is over." (p. 51). Later, speaking to a group of Christians, Hannah says, ""And the, on a star-filled night during King Herod's reign, Jesus the Messiah was born."... "He offered a solution to the crisis in their lives. But in spite of all the words that the prophets had spoken, the answer Jesus offered was not what any of them wanted -- or expected."" (p. 61).

""How long have you been a Christian, Hannah?" Abby asked. ... "I've been a Messianic believer for about five years now.... My daughter, Rachel, became a believer first. And I have to tell you that I was quite upset when she told me about her faith. When a Jew hears the word Christian, we immediately think of the Crusades and the Spanish Inquisition and all the other horrors committed in the name of Christ. We've quite forgotten the fact that Jesus was Jewish, as were all of his disciples, the apostle Paul, and most of the earliest Christians."" (pp. 61-62).

Hannah states: "The central belief of the Jewish faith is that God is working to redeem mankind. Once I saw that Jesus already brought about that promised redemption -- my redemption -- my faith was completed, not altered." Abby glimpsed Ari's face in the rearview mirror and saw by his frown that Hannah's words made him uncomfortable." (p. 62).

Some of the Christians in the group make negative comments about the Pharisees. Hannah disagrees with them, saying: ""the Pharisees were men of great courage -- heroes who were willing to face death rather than deny their faith..... But by Jesus' day, the outward form of their religion had become more important than the state of a man's heart or his relationship with God. They were carefully straining their food to avoid swallowing a gnat -- the smallest of the unclean creatures -- while at the same time, by neglecting mercy and grace, they were swallowing camels, so to speak -- the largest unclean animal." (pp. 72-73). ""Besides keeping the faith alive during times of persecution," Hannah continued, "the Pharisees made another very important contribution. They helped develop an educational system, teaching the Torah in local synagogues. It was because of the Pharisees' devotion to teaching God's Law that the average person in Jesus' time knew what the Bible prophecies said, even if he was a humble fisherman or a carpenter. And so the Pharisees prepared the people for Christ's coming."" (p. 73).

Wandering Jude notes that this description of the Pharisees seems much more fair and even-handed than most others found in Christian novels. In other words, kudos to the author.

"Her life is a gift from God," Jake told her. "Whatever happens, we can trust Him with it because His love reaches to the heavens, His faithfulness to the skies. And that's a very long way." Hannah had learned the morning prayers from Jake. They recited them together before they began each day." (p. 130). Hannah asks why people want to destroy the Jews. Jake answers, "Because we bear witness to the Holy One's plan to redeem mankind. In fact, His redemption will come from our race, from Abraham's seed. If Satan can destroy us, he thinks he can destroy all memory of God and keep mankind under the curse. But Satan's plans won't succeed." .... "But I also believe that what our enemies intend for evil, God is going to turn to our good."" (p. 131).

"She gave a nervous laugh. "You know me, Hannah. I wouldn't know what to do inside a synagogue even if they did let me through the door." "I wasn't raised in a religious home, either, but I've been attending Sabbath services with Jake ever since we were married..... You won't be surprised to learn that his faith has started to rub off on me after six years of marriage. I didn't know how to pray either, so I started by praying the psalms. Try it. With this crisis, it helps keep my fear down to manageable proportions."" (p. 138). ""Jake was reading the prophecies of Ezekiel to me the week before he left.... a huge army coming against Israel after the Jewish people are gathered here from many nations....And it says that God will allow them to come so that He can show His greatness and His holiness before the eyes of the whole world."" (p. 138). "Two day later, Hannah attended Sabbath services with Devorah. It comforted her to imagine Jake and Ben and a minyan of ten men reading the same Torah passages and reciting prayers...." (p. 139).

""I hate the Arabs for putting us through that." Jake [said]: "Don't hate them, Hannah. They win if you hate. The Holy One is a God of redemption, and it's our job to show His redemption to the whole world. We can't do that if we hate."" (p. 144).

""Do you call it coincidence, Ari, that millions of followers of the three great world religions all come to worship God within these ancient walls?" "I call it unfortunate," he said, frowning again." (pp. 149-150). ""They are also united by a common ancestor," Hannah said. "All three religions trace the roots of their faith to Abraham -- the Jews and the Christians through his son Isaac, the Arabs through his son Ishmael."" (p. 150). "God expects us to live our our faith in a real world of pain and strife until His redemption is complete," [Hannah said]. (p. 151).

""Christians often forget that Yeshua -- Jesus -- was Jewish," Hannah continued. "He didn't come to start a radical new religion but to fulfill the revelation of redemption that the Jewish people had already been given. All His life, Jesus carefully followed Jewish Law."" (p. 153).

Abby notices a difference between the Jew Ari and the Jewish Christian Hannah: "But what she couldn't understand as she walked home that night with him and Hannah was why Ari's heart had been hardened by his enemies, while Hannah's remained untouched by hatred." (p. 218).

The Israelis celebrate Shabbat with the Christian group: "The Richmans accorded Hannah the honor of lighting the Sabbath candles. Abby listened appreciatively as the family recited the prayers and blessings in Hebrew.... After a ritual hand washing, Judith uncovered two fragrant loaves of challah." (p. 215).

On Yom Kippur, Jake talks to his daughter: "Every Yom Kippur we rehearse for the day when we will face God's judgment. We think about death by fasting and denying ourselves all of the usual pleasures of life for twenty-four hours. Then we confess our sins and repent -- which means we turn away from them -- and we promise to live better by God's strength." (p. 261). Rachel, Jake's daughter, says: "I'll pray for you every day, Abba, and ask God to keep you safe.".... "If it's His will, Rachel . . . we must always yield to His will. Otherwise, we're putting ourselves in God's place, telling Him how to run the universe. No one must sit in God's place." "But why would it be God's will for you . . . to die?" she asked. "Who can know the mind of the Almighty One? Many good men died in the last war, Rachel, and we don't know why. We can't see His design because we stand too close to it."" (p. 265).

Hannah grieves her dead husband, killed in the Yom Kippur War: "Rachel wanted to continue attending the synagogue, so Hannah fulfilled all of the rituals with her, performing her lines by rote. When Yom Kippur rolled around each year and the rabbi promised that "Those who trust in the Lord shall exchange strength for weariness," she wanted to shout aloud that it was a lie, that God was a cruel tyrant. She and Rachel said prayers every morning... but they were words -- empty, meaningless words." (pp. 279-280). Later, Hannah prays: ""How could you take him from me? How could you let Jake die? What kind of a God are you?" Jake was dead. God had cruelly snatched him from her.... God alone was strong enough to heal her wound, but she had turned from Him in anger, instead of turning to him for refuge.... "I can't go on, God.... Please help me!"" (p. 284).

Rachel, Hannah's daughter, becomes a Christian: ""You know what surprises me the most, Mama? How Jewish this Yeshua was. The Christian Bible has him celebrating Passover and all the other feasts, quoting Jewish prophets, attending synagogue.... He really wasn't starting a new religion at all. He was simply a Jewish rabbi with a breathtaking interpretation of Judaism. He was trying to move a very corrupt religious system back to what God originally intended. And the God he describes is the same one I believe in -- a God of redemption." Hannah was alarmed. "You've studied history, Rachel. You know all the atrocities that Christians have committed against our people in that name." "His followers did those things, Mama, not Him."" (p. 343).

""But I am still a Jew! I haven't given up any part of our faith or our heritage. I don't have to. Yeshua the Messiah is the fulfillment of the Jewish faith."" (p. 346). As they celebrate the Passover seder, Rachel explains each ritual in light of her newfound faith in Jesus.

Hannah comes to faith in Jesus in part through the death of her daughter, who dies in a terrorist bombing, and in part through the witness of an Arab Christian pastor who visits her in the hospital.

Hannah says: ""All my life I've dug through ruins to prove that this land belonged to our Jewish ancestors. Now these Christian symbols on the floor of a Jewish home prove that some of those ancestors believed in Yeshua the Messiah! .... to prove to him that Rachel was right, that Yeshua was Jewish. And that He was the Jewish Messiah our ancestors had been waiting for."" (p. 363). In the end, Ari also becomes a Christian.

The last word:

Wandering Jude concedes that this is not a bad book. The plot, the characters, the story, the writing, everything is OK. But it's still propaganda.

Why does the Jewish character Jake always sound so much like a Christian when he pontificates and theologizes? Could it be ... that this is the author's way of telegraphing her intention to make him a Christian right before he dies? (A common ploy among evangelical conversionist authors).

Most of the arguments that are made on behalf of Christianity in this book are fairly reductionistic. The most common one is that since Jesus was Jewish (he was very very Jewish, yes he was), then it's only logical and natural that Jews 2000 years later should convert to the religion that follows his teachings. Um, there are, of course, a few problems with this argument. One is that IT MAKES NO SENSE. Another small problem with this line of reasoning is that IT MAKES ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE. OK, Wandering Jude now formally ends his rant.

Historical Christian Fiction (with a Jewish Flavor)

Wandering Jude does not normally put 1st century historical fiction in the same category as conversionist novels, simply because 1st century Christianity was really a nascent form of Judaism, one of many Jewish sects. But some authors seem to think that 1st century Jews are alike in every way to their 19th, 20th, or 21st century co-religionists. Not so, says the Wanderer. Here are some samples:

Joel: A Boy of Galilee.

Annie Fellows Johnston, our favorite authoress of Chattanooga Jews and Shirley Temple vehicles, wrote this in 1904. She states in the preface that "it has been the purpose of the author to present to children ... as accurate a picture of the times of the Christ as has been given to older readers through "Ben Hur." With this in view, the customs of the private and public life of the Jews ... have been studied so carefully that the descriptions have passed the test of the most critical inspection. An eminent rabbi pronounces them correct in every detail. While the story is that of an ordinary boy, living among shepherds and fishermen, it touches at every point he gospel narrative, making Joel, in a natural and interesting way, a witness to the miracles, the death, and the resurrection o fthe Nazarene."

Throughout the book, Joel seems to be quick to believe in "Rabbi Jesus", especially when he notices (or others point out) the apparent fulfilled messianic prophecies. When Jesus dies there are some doubts all around, but after witnessing the risen Jesus, Joel believes anew, as does his Aunt Leah. She says "Oh, I believe then that He is the Christ!" ... "I have thought all the time that it might be so, and the children are so sure of it." "And Uncle Laban?" questioned Joel. She shook her head sadly. "He grows more bitterly opposed every day." (p. 250).

Uncle Laban is not the only Jew opposed to Jesus in this book. But every book must have its villain, no doubt.

The Bronze Bow.

Acclaimed children's novelist Elizabeth George Speare won the 1962 Newbery Medal Award for The Bronze Bow. "Set in Galilee in the time of Jesus, this is the story of a young Jewish rebel who is won over to the gentle teachings of Jesus." Wikipedia describes the controversy, which has not been insignificant.


Forbidden Gates A Story of Stephen, the First Martyr.

Denise Williamson wrote this historical novel in 1990. The blurb on the back cover tells us that "Nathan Bar Benjamin was only one day away from the ceremony marking his entry into manhood when he met a boy named Dorian on the streets of Jerusalem. Dorian's quest to enter the forbidden gates of the Temple led Nathan to break the Jewish law and become a fugitive. But it was Dorian's older friend Stephen who showed Nathan what it means to be a real man of God."

Nathan and his father are among the Jews in this book who become believers in Jesus (although their conversion doesn't occur until near the end of the book).

Wandering Jude notes that scholars disagree whether the modern bar mitzvah ceremony has its roots in the 1st century or earlier, but we won't quibble about this minor detail.

A Voice in the Wind

Well-known and prolific Christian novelist Francine Rivers wrote A Voice in the Wind in 1993. The main character, Hadassah, is a young Jewish woman in first century Rome who becomes a believer in Jesus. A question that is implied in the following article from the San Francisco Jewish Bulletin is this: Is it legitimate for Christian authors to use Jewish characters for Christian means (and ends) if they are writing solely for a Christian audience? See http//www.jewishsf.com/bk030530/et33a.shtml

Wandering Jude answers this implied question with a qualified yes. Be careful out there, Christian novelists. Writing religious fiction (which can easily become propaganda) is tricky enough, but utilizing main characters from another religion can put your book on dangerous shoals. Be honest about what your protagonists are really doing and who they really are. Avoid stereotypes and try not to convert too many characters to your own personal philosophy of life.