Called to Controversy

by Ruth Rosen

  The following day I was “summoned.” I had never met Moishe before, [though] I had heard little bits and pieces about him from friends who were on staff with Jews for Jesus. . . . I had no idea that I stood on the precipice of tremendous change in my life. He never said hello or introduced himself, but just got straight to the point. He liked the song very much and wanted to know if I had ever recorded an album.

  He could not have known how burned out I was on that subject . . . I could still taste the bitterness of years of rejection as a singer and songwriter. I tried to answer politely: “No.”

  He told her that she should do an album and offered her the funds to make the recording.

  She said,

  Two weeks later, true to his word, a check arrived for $1,500. In the memo Moishe had notated “for album.” I tacked it above my piano and just stared at it for two weeks. I couldn’t believe it was real. My dad finally told me to deposit it.

  Moishe insisted on a deadline . . . the truth was, without a deadline we might never have finished that first album. I wondered how Moishe knew.

  Moishe also suggested that Sally come to San Francisco with her husband and daughter for a concert. They were well received, and a generous “pass the plate” offering was given to them, since there had been no charge for the concert. Moishe surprised Michael and Sally by announcing to the audience that the couple was recording an album—and that they could take pre-orders for the album that very night.

  Later that evening, Moishe took Sally aside and talked about her and Michael starting their own ministry. He envisioned them traveling across the country, reaching people with their music. After the couple returned to Southern California, Moishe called Sally, continuing to encourage her to step out in faith and use her God-given gifts. And six months later, Improbable People Ministries was born.

  Some of Sally’s good friends from Jews for Jesus later left the organization and spoke to her of how they had been hurt by Moishe. A deeply compassionate person, she commented, “I cannot ignore what has been said to me. But neither can I forget the integrity Moishe showed to us in all of his dealings with and for us. The longer I stay in ministry, the more clearly I see we don’t understand everything that is going on.”

  Commenting on the degree of hurt and anger that some former staff members expressed, Moishe said,

  What I’ve noticed is when people leave a ministry, which, like marriage, has a high degree of commitment, that if they’re dismissed they tend to try to get along with the ministry afterward. But if they leave of their own accord, inevitably, eventually they turn against that ministry. It’s as though they need to justify the separation. . . .

  I hope that I am not a person who holds grudges—I don’t want to be. And if somebody’s angry at me, I don’t necessarily think that they are wrong to be angry at me. Sometimes I’m angry at me.

  In fifty-four years of knowing Moishe, I never saw him as a person who held grudges, but I did see him adamant in his mistrust once a person showed himself or herself to be less than trustworthy in his eyes. He was sometimes quite vocal in expressing that mistrust. He seemed to feel obligated to point it out so that others would not be taken in, not realizing that he was alienating some people who might not want to hear about the matter. And in the few instances where he expressed not merely distrust but actual dislike for an individual, his feelings came through in a way that generated dislike in return.

  Research for this book provided unique opportunities to discuss some of these issues. I told him that I had observed in him a tendency to polarize his views of certain people, which didn’t seem to allow for “gray areas” where a person might not be as good or as bad as he thought. He paused, looking thoughtful, then replied with an eye opening insight: “Eventually, most people become heroes and villains in my mind. There are not too many villains, but a person who had villain-[like] traits becomes a villain. And a person who has heroic traits [becomes a hero]. It’s a tendency to filter things out and assign [what seems like a dominant] quality to them. That’s always been a problem.”

  Moishe did not see himself as a hero or a villain—but he made provisions to guard against his human failings, just as he tried to guard against the failings of others. He said:

  I’ve always found that I had to protect the organization against myself, and I set up different safeguards to do that.* But I also found that I had to set up the safeguards in the organization to protect the organization and its purposes from staff who [could be tempted to] change things for their own benefit at the expense of getting the task done.

  Just as Moishe’s views of certain people tended to become polarized, many people’s views of him tended toward the same polarization.

  Moishe continued to speak his mind bluntly and without regard to what others wanted to hear. He sometimes joked that he was an equal opportunity offender, but he always saw himself as a combination of the boy pointing out that the emperor had no clothes and what he called “a natural born agitator.”

  One arena in which he was considered an agitator was that of messianic congregations, that is, local bodies of Jewish Jesus-believers who chose to have a community of worship that reflected their Jewish upbringing. In fact, Moishe was a great proponent of messianic congregations; he deeply appreciated Jewish liturgy and worship services where Jewish visitors could recognize that believing in Jesus did not mean a rejection of all things Jewish.

  At the same time, Moishe was deeply concerned that certain distinctions be maintained. For example, he never liked the use of the term rabbi for the leaders of messianic congregations. To him, leaders of messianic congregations implied by use of the term that they had the same credentials as rabbis who had received ordination from mainstream Jewish institutions.

  Moreover it bothered Moishe to see any believer in Jesus attaching importance to honorific titles.* Some of the messianic rabbis, like former staff member Loren Jacobs, understood Moishe’s point of view and never let it become an issue. Others thought that Moishe was undermining their qualifications and their efforts, or casting aspersions on their motives.

  Moishe supported messianic congregations and leaders who wanted his support, giving seed money to new congregations and offering their leaders moral support by phone, written correspondence, and sometimes through personal visits. He made it clear that Jews for Jesus policy was to refer people to healthy, Bible-believing congregations close to where they lived so that they could easily become part of that community of believers. If there was a good messianic congregation, nearby, so much the better—but often the distance factor meant referring them to mainstream churches. If there was a good church within five miles of the person, Moishe didn’t feel it was sensible to ignore that church in favor of a messianic congregation many miles away. Nor would he recommend people to any congregation, messianic or mainstream, no matter how conveniently located, if that particular congregation embraced doctrines that he felt were contrary to Bible teachings.

  Moishe never doubted that a day would come when the trickle of Jewish believers in Jesus would become a flood—he looked for it as a fulfillment of biblical prophecy that would transcend all earthly strategies and human ideas of how things should be done. He was convinced that when the time came, it would be something so obviously of God that no one would be tempted to believe it was because he or she had found “the right way” or “the key” to changing people’s hearts and minds.

  “You can’t turn off what the Holy Spirit is turning on,” Moishe used to tell people, to assure them that they need not fear sharing their faith, even if they didn’t feel they had exactly the right words to say. It was always up to God to bring a person to that place of faith, and God could use individuals who were willing to tell of the hope they’d found in Jesus. How much more would that be true when, as end times prophecies indicate, the Jewish people would turn to Y’shua en masse.

  Some messianic congregations did not wish to partner with Moishe or with Jews for Jesus, which was certainly t
heir prerogative; however it is most unfortunate that some have characterized disagreements or disappointments they had with Moishe as being proof of Moishe’s relationship (or lack thereof) with the entire movement.*

  Though the health issues that began surfacing in the 1980s were unrelenting,** Moishe continued to travel quite a bit in the 1990s. He loved to see new places, as did Ceil, who accompanied Moishe on trips taken with the Jews for Jesus board of directors, some of whom she came to regard as dear friends. The board usually met in San Francisco, but every three or four years they arranged to meet at one of the branches, particularly once the ministry became international. Thus in 1990 they traveled to Johannesburg, South Africa. In the Rosens’ personal annual letter (sent out each December) Ceil wrote,

  The day we flew into Johannesburg, riots had broken out in the black township of Soweto where Moishe was first scheduled to speak. He had chosen to speak there in order to make a personal statement against apartheid and for Christian unity. We drove to Soweto that Sunday morning, even though it was rumored that a riot was “scheduled” for 2:30 that afternoon. The church service, which, unlike most American services, normally lasted for about four hours had to be cut short because of the threatened riots.

  Moishe’s sense of wonder was apparant as he later described the music and the service. There was a sense of admiration, and though Moishe would have been the last person to sit through a four-hour service of any kind, he was deeply impressed by the worship he experienced in South Africa.

  Moishe also loved to share the experience of travel with others, and in 1992 he was invited to address a conference of the Norwegian Church Ministry to Israel. My mother had been included in the invitation, but Moishe also arranged for me, his daughter, to speak and to help with the outdoor evangelism the Norwegian Ministry was conducting.

  There were very few times that I felt I received special privileges because of who my father was, but that time in Norway was one of them. He really had to twist my arm to go, but once there, I enjoyed it beyond anything I could have imagined. The stunning scenery and the beauty and hospitality of the people made every moment worth remembering. But aside from the incredible aesthetic experience, I remember how deeply impressed I was with him especially when we were invited to “an informal garden party.”

  First, Moishe insisted on my asking our host, Helge Aarflot,* how we should dress for the occasion. I thought this strange, since “informal” seemed to imply casual attire.

  He shook his head and said, “You don’t know that. They might mean something very different by informal than you or I would mean.” He was right. Helge assured me that for the men “a sports jacket and tie would be fine,” and the women could wear “simple dresses.” I was so grateful Moishe had asked—I probably would have come in jeans.

  We arrived at our host’s home, met his beautiful wife and children, and were quickly shown into a lovely garden where tables, chairs, and a picture-perfect meal awaited. For dessert, there was an amazing tiered cake, covered with marzipan, and beautifully decorated, almost like a wedding cake. We had never been to a party quite like this.

  Before the cake was cut, Ole Kvarme (mentioned in chapter 28) clinked a fork or spoon against his water glass, and with all eyes turned to him, he cleared his throat and began to speak. He recounted the history of Jewish missions in Europe, told where and when he had met Moishe and affirmed Moishe and the ministry of Jews for Jesus most eloquently. He then gave strong assurances of his pleasure in the relationship and his hopes for continued friendship and opportunities to serve the Lord together in years to come.

  Following this speech, Helge Aarflot made another, and it became quite clear that there was a certain form, a certain etiquette to these “impromptu” speeches. Before I knew it, it became quite clear that it was my father’s turn to address the group.

  I knew that he was an exceptional public speaker, and I’d rarely seen him at a loss for words. Still, he had a style that was very much his own, and this situation seemed to call for a very specific approach. And it became obvious that he had carefully observed that approach.

  With truly impressive ease, he followed the pattern that had been laid out, and gave an extemporaneous speech that reflected every social grace that had been shown to us, and yet was still uniquely and sincerely Moishe. As he finished, our Norwegian friends smiled and nodded with satisfaction, and I was so proud. I thought I knew his range pretty well, but that informal garden party—besides being a wonderful experience in and of itself—showed me a whole other side of Moishe.

  In 1993, Jews for Jesus celebrated its twentieth year as a ministry. The U.S. and Canadian board of directors hosted an elegant dinner for Moishe, our family, and many of the senior leaders of Jews for Jesus. Ceil recalled, “The board also gave a very generous gift to the Jews for Jesus Library in Moishe’s honor. He much preferred that to any personal gift they might have chosen. He leaned over to me just before the presentation and joked, ‘If they give me a gold watch, it’s all over!’”

  Ironically, that was the year that Moishe knew it was almost time for him to step aside as executive director of Jews for Jesus. He later recalled,

  Sometime in 1993, in that area of intuition where God speaks to me, he let me know that soon he was going to be telling me to step down. Now in 1993, I was still strong; I was sixty-one years old, could travel well, and my thinking capacity was good. But the voice-that-wasn’t-exactly-a-voice was like the voice that had first called me to the ministry and had later called me to San Francisco—and I knew that it would be confirmed.

  By 1994, Moishe was convinced that the time was drawing nearer, and by 1995, he felt he had his confirmation. He formally announced to the staff that he planned to step down from his position in 1996.

  * Now called London School of Theology.

  * In fact, this happened at another church during the group’s London tour—one of the antimissionaries co-opted a meeting partway through—proof that Moishe’s concerns at Bushey Baptist Church were not unfounded.

  * For example, Moishe exempted himself from signing ministry checks. He also put in place a committee of board members to review any appeal letters he wrote, and he would not send them without the committee’s approval.

  * He had long since dropped the term “Reverend” that his own education and ordination entitled him to use.

  * This is understandable if those who felt at odds with Moishe viewed themselves, their theology, and their practices as representative of the entire movement—and it appears that some have chosen to view themselves and the movement in that way.

  ** In 1992 progression of his adult onset Type II diabetes necessitated daily insulin injections, and that same year arthritis required surgery on his right knee. He also suffered from copious nosebleeds resulting from a deviated septum.

  * President of the Norwegian Israel Mission at the time.

  THIRTY

  If you want to teach people not to listen to you, state the obvious over and over again.

  —MOISHE ROSEN

  Moishe was perspiring profusely as he and grandson Asher lugged the last heavy suitcase across the threshold of the Maui condo they would call home for the next week.* Spacious, neat—and very nicely decorated, Moishe thought.

  It was June 1997. Asher had graduated from high school in May, his sister, Bethany, had turned fifteen on June 7, and June 8 marked Lyn and Alan’s twenty-third wedding anniversary. With so much to celebrate, it was the perfect time for the two families to enjoy a special vacation together in Hawaii—something they had never done before.

  In fact, Moishe and Ceil had never taken a two-week trip unless it included a ministry speaking tour—which accounted for their previous visits to Hawaii. As executive director, Moishe had always felt it would be inappropriate to be away from Jews for Jesus for that long unless he was doing something ministry related. Now that he was no longer executive director, he was seeing things a little differently.

  Still, it did not occ
ur to him to take such a vacation until he and Ceil received an unexpected windfall—the ministry leadership recalled that the couple had spent five thousand dollars of their own money to pay for the first Liberated Wailing Wall album in the early 70s. Just recently, and with a great deal of appreciation, it had been repaid.**

  I never expected to see that money again, Moishe had thought, but this is the perfect time to gather the whole family together before the grandchildren grow up and go their separate ways.

  He’d called Lyn to ask, “Where would you like to go for a family vacation? Think of somewhere you haven’t been yet.”

  In a heartbeat Lyn replied, “Hawaii!”

  Moishe was enthusiastic. “Yes, we should all go to Hawaii! I’ll pay for it if you’ll plan it.”

  As for Moishe’s other daughter:

  I had been shocked at my father’s announcement that we would vacation together for two whole weeks. “Who are you and what have you done with my father?” I’d been tempted to ask. At that time I was editing four Jews for Jesus publications and mentioned that two weeks away might be tricky given my various deadlines.

  Moishe brushed off this concern somewhat impatiently, pointing out that I had a right to the two weeks. This too, seemed different than his attitude of old. However, he was willing to take the publication’s schedule into account when fixing the specific dates, and with all of us on board, Lyn got to work. We all agreed that family members ought not feel obligated to do everything together. Those who wanted solitude could choose not to participate in a given activity.

  Moishe wished he had used that “nonparticipation” option to decline a catamaran ride off of Waikiki Beach during the first week of his once-in-a-lifetime two-week family vacation.

  “Aloha!” The man in the brightly colored shirt had greeted them enthusiastically as he handed Ceil, Lyn, and finally Moishe into the gently rocking boat. Asher and Bethany nimbly hopped in, completing the party. (Alan had opted for a quiet reading time in the hotel room and I had left early that morning for a day trip to Kuai.) Ceil and Lyn breathed in the salt air and sighed happily as they took their seats.