Rabbi Daniel Mechanic
They’re Here…
מה ד' אלקיך שאל מעמך
What does Hashem, your G-d, ask of you? (Devarim 10:12)
It was on that memorable day in Los Angeles when I met Larry David, producer of the renowned television series Seinfeld, that he asked me a glaring question which troubles the mind of many people in this day and age. After showing him various logical proofs to G-d’s existence and explaining how G-d gave us the Torah amid a mass revelation of three million people, Larry said, “Okay, I get that. But how do you know that He didn’t change His mind? Maybe, G-d later decided to switch and go with the Moslems or Christians?” When he asked me this question, I knew where to turn. I went on to tell him what happened one Shabbat morning in my community.
I live in Flatbush, New York, a neighborhood heavily populated by Orthodox Jews. A number of years ago, it was Shabbat morning at around 11:30 am, and a number of Christian missionaries descended on our neighborhood. It was just around the time when everyone was returning home from Shul. Assumingly, the missionaries figured that now would be the best time to “spread the message of the l-rd!” as they say. While most of the religious families on my block closed their doors as soon as they saw these people and refused to open their homes to hear about any nonsense, I had a different agenda in mind.
I quickly ran down to my basement and said, “Kinderlach (children), come upstairs quickly; the missionaries are here!” At the time, I had four children, all under ten years of age. Telling them to quietly sit on the couch and watch what Abba does, they all ran to take a seat and wait to be entertained by our special guests.
Walking back to the front door, I opened it and warmly said, “Sabbath Greetings! Come on in!” Not knowing what hit them, an African American couple stepped inside. I mentioned that I was a rabbi, getting them particularly excited. In their mind, they believed that if they would win me over to their side, they would be catching a “big fish.” Bringing them to my Shabbat table, I began pointing to the Challah and explaining the significance of why we have two of them and why we cover it as we make the blessing over wine. With the house smelling of chicken, cholent and kugel and the table beautifully set with our best dishes, this couple was certainly surprised by what they had walked into. When my wife finally walked into the dining room, I could tell what she was thinking by the look on her face, “Here we go again…” This wasn’t the first time I was doing this.
After some while, I turned to the man and woman and said, “So, what brings you here?” The woman simply sat there silently, but her husband had something to say. “Rabbi,” he said as he closed his eyes, “I come with a message of ‘Love and Salvation!’” And then he began his repertoire which he must have repeated dozens of times. Meanwhile, I could hear my kids giggling behind me. I didn’t want to create a chillul Hashem (desecration of G-d’s name), so I tried to motion to them to quiet down. But the man’s refrains for embracing Christianity and enjoying salvation just kept them laughing.
After he finished presenting his ideas, I said, “That is all very fascinating, sir. But, if you don’t mind me asking, what rational evidence do you have that Jesus is the Messiah? I am not looking for ‘I believe!’ I also can say ‘I believe!’ We all believe. But one of us is right and one of us is wrong. And since we are advancing opposite arguments, both of us cannot be correct. So what rational evidence do you have that your man is the Messiah?”
Without further delay, the man pulled out an English Bible from his pocket. “Rabbi,” he said, “it discusses here in Isaiah 53 about the suffering servant. It clearly is referring to Jesus.” He then went on to cite numerous other verses mentioning Jesus. All the while, I patiently listened to him, not saying a word. And then it was my turn.
“What you are saying, sir, is that two thousand years ago, G-d deliberately inserted certain words into the Bible as an allusion to all of humanity that this man is the Messiah?” He nodded his head. “Sir, the original is in Hebrew.” And then I began testing him. “Do you know what a kisei is? He just stared at me. What about a shulchan?” It was obvious that he didn’t know Hebrew, and so I called over my two little daughters, Tzippi and Channi, who were six and four years old. “Okay,” I said to them, “how do you say ‘Table’ in Hebrew?” In unison, they both said, “Shulchan.” “What about ‘Orange’?” “Tappuz.” And then I turned back around to the missionary.
“Sir,” I said, “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but you are saying that your evidence for your religion is based on the translation of Hebrew words when you don’t even know Hebrew?” And with that, I politely showed them the door and bid them farewell.
A week later, I heard a knock on the door. It was 11:30 am. Looking through the peephole, I could tell who was pining to be allowed in. “Kinderlach!” I yelled, “they’re back!”
Calling my kids over, I told them to once again watch what Abba does. Opening the door, I knew immediately who they had sent me. It was the bubby missionary. A seventy-five-year-old lady with a little bag stood there. “Come in!” I said. Showing her to the table, she took a seat as I said, “I know why you’re here. The couple who was here last week told you about me.”
This time, I did not simply sit there and have her repeat her whole memorized presentation. Instead, I played a little game with her. “In Jewish families,” I said, “we have a custom of telling beautiful stories at our tables about morality and kindness. Right now, I was going to tell a story to my children. When I finish it, we can talk about religion.” Little did she know that the story was really meant for her more than anyone else.
It is a powerful story which counter-missionaries have come up with and I personally have used many times when dealing with others. I know of no less than fifteen “Jews for J” who are no longer involved in missionary groups because of this story. Some of them have gone on to even practice Judaism due to hearing this. While I presented this story to the lady using an Indian Chief as the main character, it works with a Rebbe just as well. It was this anecdote which I told this missionary woman, and which I subsequently related to Larry David too.
There was once a Chassidish Rebbe with 50,000 followers. Suddenly, however, the rabbi died. When that happened, even before finishing the week of shiva, his three sons broke out in an argument as to whom would become the next Rebbe. Building three Shuls, each one was confident that he would succeed his father’s coveted position. Amongst the chassidim themselves, the opinions ranged. Many chassidim felt that the oldest son should be the next Rebbe as he was the eldest. Others argued that although he may be the oldest, the second son was the wisest. And yet still, others were of the opinion that the youngest son was the most deserved as he was charismatic, warm and a passionate leader.
One day, the youngest son walked into the synagogue and gave a loud bang on the lectern. “No more fighting!” he yelled. “I have the answer who is going to be the next Rebbe. After I fell asleep last night, I had a dream. And in my dream, my father came to me and said, ‘My son, you’re the next Rebbe. Go tell everybody!’ And with that, the youngest son informed everyone of his newly assumed position.
After relating this anecdote to this missionary lady, I said, “Now you tell me, what could have the other two brothers told their younger brother that would logically disprove his argument?” I then sat there and waited for her to respond. Surprisingly, in fact, she came up with the answer herself after some time. “Well,” she said, “it would have been better if the father would have appeared in a dream to the other two brothers! If that would have been the case, the brothers would have jointly concluded that they had the same dream and that the third, youngest brother, is the rightful successor.”
She had hit the mark. By the father going to the younger brother, how could you know he was telling the truth? And even better than that, the father should have appeared in a dream to all 50,000 Chassidim. If the father wished to relay this news in the most effective way where no questions would arise, he should have appeared in a dream to every single one of the Chassidim! They all would have woken up in the morning and known who to instate as their next Rebbe.
And then I said, “Ma’am, I think you just disproved the main religions in the world and showed how Judaism is true.” “What do you mean?” she asked. “According to you, G-d should not have appeared to Jesus and said, ‘You’re the Messiah! Now go convince the rest of the world.’ Nor should G-d have appeared to Mohammad and said, ‘I have a secret to tell you. Here is the Koran. Go tell the whole world about it.’”
Does G-d act like that, or does He act as stated in the Torah? G-d gathered three million Jews to a mountain and said, “Anochi Hashem Elokecha” – “I am Hashem your G-d.” It is the only logical way G-d would have communicated with anybody.
Telling this to the woman, I think she understood the message. And so did Larry David. While she may have thought she was going to once and for all catch a “big fish,” little did she know that I had a nice, large net right at my side ready to catch her.
