'I saw something

equally clear

and fearful.

I saw myself'

This, from a Brooklyn Jew who came to Minnesota not knowing which end of a shovel to dig with! Stretching barbed wire?! A profound mystery!

The simple caring for animals, if different from maintaining a rooftop pigeon coop or a cat in a Brooklyn apartment, was a foreign concept...

Well, at one of our convocations, we wanted to experience something of what it was like to slaughter a lamb, Passover-style, and a pig – supposedly in the way the Temple was desecrated in the Second Century by Antiochus Epiphanes, who ordered the same kind of sacrifice in every village and city in Israel.
And then, we were going to skewer them on a spit and roast them – primarily because we had to feed three-hundred people who were attending the convocation that summer.
What a ghoulish, horrific experience that turned out to be for someone who only saw raw meat in the display cases with assorted cuts that were always cleanly packaged in the supermarket. But, isn’t this our condition today? Our life is nicely pre-packaged and wrapped in cellophane, a life of excess and ease. Well, God is bringing us into ruthlessly honest kinds of experience as part of the process in producing Joseph’s and Paul’s and Elijah’s. And, it’s authentically messy, as we learned that day up in Minnesota.
I’ll never forget how that lamb, meek and submissive, never resisted right up until the fatal moment, and was hung by its legs from a tree limb with the blood pouring out of it. And, a Jewish girl among the shocked bystanders blurted out: ‘It’s not fair!’
Everyone else was thinking it, but the Lord had her in his sights as she was confronted with a new kind of intimacy with him. She and everybody else were brought to a deep acknowledgement of the reality of the Lamb of God’s own sacrifice that was long avoided by her. When she blurted out that it wasn’t ‘fair,’ it was an admission that she and everyone else have distanced themselves from the whole notion of sacrifice, the shedding of innocent blood, and death. Without those components, there can be no ‘life’ because the life is in the blood.
But, we weren’t through yet. The killing of the pig was next – and it was MY turn!
There are no pigs in Brooklyn, and when we got to Minnesota I finally understood what disgusting creatures they are when it’s feeding time. What an object lesson in appreciating what it is to be kosher. Pigs stink! They’re repulsive with their shrill squealing and filthy grunts – and such a clear picture of greediness. At feeding time, when you bring them their food, you can’t even get close to the trough. They practically knock you over, and if you slip and fall into the mud and excrement, you’re in more danger of being killed yourself. They stand in the trough with their filthy feet, jostling and knocking each other around. What a picture that never gets across as you peer into the butcher’s meat case with everything packaged perfectly.

And, I used to think to myself that the pig was the perfect container for the maximum amount of protein wrapped up and having the minimum of brains and muscle. But, an Iowa farmer took me aside one time and showed me different. They can be very intelligent animals, making their behavior at feeding-time the more repugnant.
I often stand before congregations that show these very same unseemly, barnyard characteristics.

There are many lessons I learned from that pig. The first one was so primal, so desperate in its all-out tenacity for survival. There were four men wrestling that animal to the ground, each one of them finally gripping a leg as it fought and squealed in terror.

How different from the lamb in that the pig refused to lay down its life. Even with a foot on its neck, it writhed and struggled. Then, one of the men gave me the knife, and showed me where to plunge it in.
But I couldn’t. Suddenly, I could see something else as it fought those men. Such desperation. Every ounce of strength focused on surviving, kicking ferociously with its legs, trying to get its neck out from under that boot.
I saw something equally clear and fearful. I saw myself. I saw Art Katz. As plain and as recognizable as could be.
When they finished butchering and took out the heart and all its intestines, I saw where that knife was perfectly inserted into the heart. But still, I remember how that pig took a long time to die, fighting until it seemed all its blood had drained out, squealing in panic right up until the end.
And, I saw myself – and the rest of us – smug, complacent Christians, sitting in our pews with self-confident smiles on our faces, tithing, giving token offerings to support our missionaries, diligently taking our tape-recorders to Bible studies, racking up perfect church attendance.
But, how much like that pig we all are, dedicated to our own lives, our own survival, feeding and fighting greedily to sustain our flesh, and God with his foot on our necks. And even then – we will not cease to struggle!
Are you ready to stand by the spirit in front of your mirrors? Are you ready to see what is looking back at you? Will it be the pig? Or the lamb?

- Palm Springs, California (1976)

'I'm a man sent of God with a sent word...'

I’ve just come back from Africa. They’ve seen many white men who come
to tell them about church growth …and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
And that’s what they thought I was.
But the moment that I faced them the first time – hundreds of black men who had come long distances in West Africa, seated, looking matter-of-fact,
waiting to hear some new method and technique for church growth.
And, I took a deep breath, and my first words were:
‘I’m a man sent of God with a sent word from the throne of Heaven!’
BOOM!
It changed everything. They straightened up in their seats.
Their jaws dropped. Their eyes opened.
This was different than any guy who has come before.
Here’s a man with authority, making such a pronouncement.
And everything that preceded from this man after that announcement confirmed that indeed he was sent and that the word
issuing from him was not his own.
It was revolutionary! It was radical! It was requiring.
All these men were careerists, wanting to be promoted, wanting to succeed.
But, the Lord gave them something else – and they knew it.
He gave them something for the continent of Africa,
so-called ‘dark’ Africa.
There is a destiny for that continent…

– Singapore (March 2006)

'...I study the faces, marked by religious intensity and an atmosphere of reverence and an equally gracious acceptance of clumsily inept strangers in their midst'

There I saw hundreds of tzizis (fringed garment) wearing, black yarmulked men poring over texts in interactive intensity in vast study halls that would move any indolent believer to envy. To be in the crowded midst of 1,000 davven-ing (praying), talis (prayer shawl) covered men facing the ark that bears the Torah on a Friday evening Shabbat gathering at the Lubavitcher center in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, is to take one’s breath away! I study the faces, marked by religious intensity and an atmosphere of reverence and an equally gracious acceptance of clumsily inept strangers in their midst.
Which raises the question, dare I say it, and it is an important one, is there some measure of God’s validation in what they are about, even in their present blindness, preparing them for the final and ultimate revelation? If so, we cannot afford to categorically dismiss and disconnect ourselves from what is godly and enduring in their synagogue life. What Jewish continuity would there be for a destiny yet to be fulfilled if this grace were not given? While at the same time, that seeming legitimization from God solidifies their resistance to us and to our message, calling for our greater patience!
Please don’t misread this as an endorsement for orthodox, Judaic life coming from some starry-eyed romantic, idealizing His people at the expense of the loss of personal faith. On the contrary, in all this challenge of quite another world, my faith and love of the Lord I serve has never been greater or stronger. He is in all this somehow, in an intersection and confluence of disparate, long-separated worlds whose time has come. I have never felt less qualified to have any part in it, yet at the same time, unspeakably privileged for even this glimpse.

- Ben Israel News/Prayer Letter (Summer 2003)

'You can have the baptism in the Holy Spirit - and still not be living by it'

I’m a steward of the mysteries of God, and therefore I have to sound a note that is not necessarily sounded by my brothers though I applaud and acknowledge the value of many of the things that they say and that they uphold. But in that I have not made myself, and it has pleased God to fashion me as he has and to give to me the particular burdens that he has, I need to sound them.

I attended a messianic conference a few years back and was a bit irritated by one of the speakers in particular. And some of the brothers came to me and said, ‘Brother Art, we don’t understand why you’re irritated. He’s like you. He has the baptism in the Holy Spirit.’ ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Well, that’s odd. Why then does he condescend to inject this humor in his presentations, and this little shticklech, and little do-dads and gimmicks to make himself fetching and attractive?’ ‘Well, Art, don’t you know that he’s a little nervous and apprehensive, and he’s afraid that if he doesn’t make himself attractive that people will not receive his word?’
I’ve never forgotten that explanation, because it’s an illustration of a profound truth: You can have the baptism in the Holy Spirit - and still not be living by it. In moments of crisis, in moments of ministry, in moments of demand, in moments of fearfulness, you fall back again on your own life, your own cleverness, your own wit, your own devices. And that has not the ability to bring life. Paul said: ‘In him I move and live and have my being. For me to live is Christ.’ What is messianic life? It’s to be in Christ – moment by moment, cleaving to the Tree of Life for every necessity, a wisdom beyond our own, a knowledge beyond our own, a strength and a boldness beyond our own.

Paul said: ‘In him I move and live and have my being. For me to live is Christ.’ What is messianic life? It’s to be in Christ – moment by moment, cleaving to the Tree of Life for every necessity, a wisdom beyond our own, a knowledge beyond our own, a strength and a boldness beyond our own.

- Conference on Messianic Judaism and the Holy Spirit; Kansas City, Missouri (1977)

The old Camp Dominion road - a milestone for many

...The pattern of His building ANEW
'As I write, the sound of the hammer fills the air, an aged tractor 'putt-putts' in the distance bringing in the hay, voices consulting and discussing the labors of the day mingle in the background. These are the sounds of LIFE – a first trickle of activity and building, first steps in the physical unfolding of the Lord's purposes here. The pattern of His building is sure; He is not allowing us to proceed in things tangible faster than or independent of things spiritual!
'These have been the days therefore, of spiritual building, of the laying of the foundation in lives in relationships which will stand. The finger of the Lord has been upon the marriage, family and closest circles of relationship which widen out from the nucleus. Not a day has passed, it seems, without there being some foundational work done in us, between us and out to the neighboring fellowships with whom we see we are inextricably bound. The key word is COVENANT, men pledging themselves to each other as they have to the Lord no matter what; unable to tend our own affairs while indifferent to the needs of the other.
'Our message and ministry is to be our life together, whatever that will take, for there is a 'go-for-broke' spirit among us that will not be satisfied with less (though not without tremblings).'

Ben Israel News-Prayer Letter (Fall 1975)

'You cannot be a refuge without first being a community'
To be honest, we didn’t know what a ‘community’ was. We didn’t know how to establish it. We didn’t know who it was to be a refuge for. But within a short period of time we had fifty-five people on the property, learning what the Kingdom of God means, living in poverty beneath the minimum standard of living established by the United States government. It was to learn in our severe surroundings what it means to live by our faith.
I’m talking about winters like Siberia, snow and frigid temperatures five months out of the year, without adequate housing, the access to food in previously known abundance and variety.
But, we drew strength from the proximal assurance from the brother and his family next door that we were in something glorious – together!
I cannot begin to tell you what that meant, or how profoundly we grew to appreciate and value each other – not by our ‘lovable’ attributes and virtues but by our unlovable characteristics and tendencies and habits which became exposed. What do you do in that kind of naked, fundamental situation – which we experienced daily?!
Oh, the exquisiteness of it all.
It must have been the same at Antioch, and everywhere else we read about. That’s how we began twenty-seven years ago. And, today we have about thirty-five people on that property, ten or eleven households. The character of the community today is different than it was in the beginning – when agonies and disillusionments and glories abounded!
Now, the visible realities of the world have made clear for whom this refuge awaits. I believe it is but one of many that are hidden and in preparation. A great many have even yet to be formed and assembled. And, for what? Jews in flight from persecution in North America, coming down from Canada because we are only a hundred miles from the Canadian border which is a very porous border, very open.
As I said, there are other such communities being formed to receive Jews in flight in the soon coming persecution that is already beginning now in many countries where Jews have enjoyed favorable conditions. Now, there are synagogues being burned. Jewish children are being beat up in the streets. And, other threats of death are commonplace in such countries as France, Germany, England and America. It will be worldwide. A 600-percent increase of violent anti-Semitic episodes was documented in one recent year in France where there is a large Islamic community. And, the authorities have said openly they are unable to protect the Jews…
But, know this: You cannot be a refuge without first being a community. It is only a matter of time when you need to consider this because the Time of Jacob’s Trouble has commenced with every indication that it will be worldwide, affecting Jews in every nation. And the demonic spirit of hatred as in the times they experienced during Hitler will now be worse and global.
- Sofia, Bulgaria (2002)

May 26, 1964 - Jerusalem
'In my sleep, powerless to affect my own salvation'

And I wrestled with God for six months, trying to avoid the implications of his revelation. But He would not let me go.
And in Jerusalem he backed me into a corner, having spent two weeks at the Hebrew University and reading every kind of book. If only the Passover Plot had been written, how greedily I would have run for it. And with every book I read and every professor with whom I spoke, the more I realized I was impaled on the hook of God. And how I was put on a bus that last day ten years ago to visit a chassidic ultra-Orthodox community and never got there. Wrong bus. Lost. Riding around in Jerusalem in a section I didn’t know and too Jewish to ride on aimlessly.
That’s why you meet us in your congregations.
I stepped out of the bus and I walked into the first door that I could find. And the woman was so gracious to make me a map, and I was about to leave and I saw I was in a bookstore. Me, an omnivorous reader. The kid with the flashlight under the sheets at night. And I took a look at the titles and stopped dead in my tracks. New Testaments. Bibles. Christian literature.
And I turned to look at this woman’s yiddishe punim, this Jewish face. And I said, ‘Hey, what is this place?’
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘we’re a congregation of Jews who believe in the Messiah Jesus, and this is our bookstore adjoining our chapel.’
Snap in my heart, and I heard the still, small voice that called me by name and spoke as I would be made familiar in the months and years since. In a very terse way always. Always in the form of command. Always without explanation. Always with the voice of authority from Him with whom I have to do. Always to inconvenience. ‘Art, you are not to leave.’ I didn’t argue.
I stayed four days and nights with these Pentecostal Jews and saw such a demonstration of the reality of the Spirit of God from which I could not turn. I heard Jews pray with authority and power. Not out of a siddur. And not ceremonially. As if they were actually being heard of God – and as if they expected answer!
And the thing that topped it off?
I watched them worship!
You say, ‘watched them’? I saw Jews with their hands above their heads, their sleeves rolling down as they raised their hands to God, and the tattooed numbers on their wrists from the concentration camps, praising God in the name of Yeshua Ha’Maschiach!
If ever Jews had a reason NOT to praise that name, it was they. And yet, the tears rolling down their countenances, and the joy on their faces could not be put away.
And four days and nights, they prayed for me, with me, over me. They opened the scriptures. Told me of God’s ‘plan of salvation.’ How ickey can you get? How fundamental can you sound? I didn’t like it. I couldn’t understand it. I was confused. I was bewildered. I got the most intensive bible course that any Jew could be given in four days and nights. And I was... rattled!
So simple that I couldn’t see it.
And I went to sleep on that front pew that last night. So bewildered out of my head. And in my sleep, powerless to affect my own salvation, the Spirit of God just brought things together in my heart. I could just feel pieces falling into place.
And I awoke that next morning with the most precious peace and calm that I had every enjoyed in thirty-five years of restless striving, and came to the breakfast table.
And the first words out of my mouth: ‘Rena, I believe I understand.’ And poor Rena toppled out of her seat onto the floor, chair knocked over and arms above her head, weeping and praising God because her prayer that night was ‘Lord, we’ve done everything for this stubborn man. You make him to understand…’
- Denver, Colorado ( February 1974)