Age of Accountability

After 40 years wandering in the wilderness (plus a few), finally I am working toward becoming Bat Mitzvah, a rite of passage usually done when a person reaches the ripe old age of 13.  Too late?  I say "No."

At 13, having seen the collapse of my family and set loose in the Berkeley culture of the 60's in which all structures and systems were being torn down, I was running amok in the People's Park riots and tasting of every misbehavior I could get my hands on.  

My parent's generation was not the first in my line to liberate themselves from Jewish religious observance, each going his own way.  Now I seek to connect with earlier generations who sought out Adonai, who meditated on His word day and night.  As I retraced the steps of my mother's family and found her name and the names of my parents' parents' parents inscribed in a book in the heart of Vienna, and as my mother, sister and I were welcomed with blessings, prayers and shared grief for what was lost, I see how the Lord wishes to restore that which the locust devoured.   

I do not pursue Bat Mitzvah because I have to or think others have to, but because I want to receive that which is being offered in God's work of restoration, and I pray others will be blessed by it.  HE is offering, and I say, "Yes."

Vienna Review

"God that made the world and all things therein, seeing that he is Lord of heaven and earth, dwelleth not in temples made with hands; 
Neither is worshipped with men's hands, as though he needed any thing, seeing he giveth to all life, and breath, and all things; 
And hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth, and hath determined the times before appointed, and the bounds of their habitation; 
That they should seek the Lord, if haply they might feel after him, and find him, though he be not far from every one of us: 
For in him we live, and move, and have our being; as certain also of your own poets have said, For we are also his offspring." (Acts 17:24-28) 

After crashing at 4pm yesterday afternoon I find myself wide awake and perky for a new day in the middle of the night. What else to do at this hour but blog? 

The Vienna journey was deeply multi-faceted and many stories could be told, some of which are really funny.  The cultural misunderstandings and cross communications made for some priceless moments, like when I tried to pray for a waitress and she recoiled, thinking I was going to pay her not in Euros but in blessings, and she yelled, "You can't live on blessings!"  We did a lot of laughing, as well as crying.  God's presence was with us throughout the trip, in very visible traveling mercies, in the love that was shown, in divine appointments, in the three of us ladies getting along at close quarters for two weeks, and for me in the completion of a God-ordained assignment. 

Without our new friends at Beth Yeschua, it would have been a much more ordinary vacation, but Joshua, who heads up the Messianische Gemeinschaft, or Messianic Fellowship, organized a series of events that made the journey so much more remarkable.  Mom's return, as a Jewish person, to the place of her birth after being forced to flee during the Nazi era, held great importance for many people we met.  We were embraced and welcomed in a most overwhelming show of gratitude, love, acceptance and even repentance.  Zechariah's words came to mind, 

"Thus saith the LORD of hosts; In those days it shall come to pass, that ten men shall take hold out of all languages of the nations, even shall take hold of the skirt of him that is a Jew, saying, We will go with you: for we have heard that God is with you."

Firstly Joshua found a gallery for Mom to have a show.  The gallery in their turn ran with the baton, so that there was a good turnout at the opening, a newspaper write-up and most importantly, a visit from a local city representative who delivered a message of welcome to Mom from the President of Austria and the Israeli Ambassador.  We were presented with a sachertorte for Mom's 93rd birthday, which was the following day.



Joshua organized a "Welcome Home" event as part of the Saturday Shabbat services in Mom's honor.  It was a very moving ceremony.  Mom told her story and others got up to respond.  One who spoke was a father of five sons from Texas, whose mission and ministry alongside his wife and boys is to bless the Jewish people.  He tearfully apologized for gentile Christian abuse of the Jewish people in the name of Jesus and showered us with words of blessing.

We were meticulously cared for by the precious believers of Beth Yeschua; we were transported and well fed and encouraged in every possible way by them. My sister and I were pushed to the limits of our endurance by our 93 year old mother, as we walked endless palace grounds and museum galleries and saw works of art we'd only seen before in books. Most memorable was the Breugel room at the Fine Art Museum.  This was a room where my mother spent many childhood days lost in the dense activity of Breugel's scenes.  Herod's massacre at Bethlehem, the Tower of Babel, the procession to Calvary.  



Nanette taught a collage workshop that blessed those attending and gave us a chance to sit quietly and turn inward for a moment.  My concert was part of the next Shabbat service.  Again we were presented with expressions of repentance and a desire to bless us Jews.  My job was to receive and accept the apologies and be blessed, to forgive as I wish to be forgiven, and yet not forget or belittle the hurtful events of history that brought us to this moment.  The Lord gave me a song of reconciliation to share (lyrics below).

Perhaps the most extraordinary moment of the trip came when we visited the Jewish Community Center and found in an office, in a cabinet, among a collection of ancient enormous leather-bound volumes, in a ledger, opened to a page, on one line, in meticulous old style hand-script -  the record of my mother's birth, with the names and marriage dates of her parents and grandparents.  The grandparents' names were not even known to my mother until that moment.  It was then that I knew that a piece of me belongs to this distant city.





I filmed much of the trip and will be hard at work putting a movie together.  I interviewed many Austrians about how they feel their country is healing from the holocaust.  All feel Austria has moved on, and with the passing of that generation there is a new tolerance and willingness to live in peace.  Feelings toward the holocaust are complex, combining a sense of shared victimhood with a harder to express shame at having participated in Hitler's vision.

I close for now with the words of the song given to me for the occasion of my journey to Vienna.

Holy Meeting Ground © 2011 Michelle Shelfer

If your Mama wore a yellow star,

If the darkness left her broken, stunned and scattered,

Someone is calling you.

If the hurts of all her history

Still smart within your sinews, still trouble your bones,

Someone is calling you.

Calling you out, can’t you hear him

Calling you out?

CHORUS

You are called to the Holy Meeting Ground,

Where bond and free are gathered to forgive and be forgiven.

To touch your knee to the Holy Meeting Ground,

Making peace with one another, with the land where we were wounded,

Making peace with the Prince of Peace,

Can’t you hear him calling you?

Hear him calling!

If your Papa bore the killing badge,

If he wore the colors of destruction, fettered,

Someone is calling you.

Or perhaps he only held his tongue,

Only stayed indoors while all the world was shattered,

Someone is calling you.

CHORUS

You are called to the Holy Meeting Ground,

Where Jew and Greek are gathered to forgive and be forgiven.

To touch your knee to the Holy Meeting Ground,

Making peace with one another, with the land where we were wounded,

Making peace with the Prince of Peace,

Can’t you hear him calling you?

Hear him calling!