As a child we were possibly the last family in the United States to own a VHS player. It was very significant to go from being at the mercy of what the Big Three Networks wanted us to watch to having complete control of commercial-free programming. The pause button allowed bathroom breaks, scenes weren’t interrupted with KMart ads and we could watch our movies over and over again. In 1992 McDonald’s teamed up with Orion Home Video to distribute three movies over the holiday season. “Dances With Wolves” was one of them, priced at only $7.99 with a food purchase and so it became our very first movie.
Little was known about the movie other than it won countless awards and it was about Native Americans. Indians had always intrigued me. I turned my Cabbage Patch Doll into a papoose using crayons to put war paint on his face. Leather moccasin slippers were my favorite shoes and it was so much fun to be an Indian girl for Halloween. But the externals were dull in comparison to my yearning to live in a tribe. The Story of Mary Jemison and Maggie Among the Seneca were so fascinating to me.
“Dances With Wolves” immediately enthralled me. O to be a young girl living in a tribe. There would always be other children to play with. Mothers would all be home instead of going away to work. Grandmothers would live in a tipee just a few steps away and there would be no such thing as lonely.
Just a few weeks ago I stopped my husband in his tracks as he was outside working.
“Do you know what I need?” I asked him.
The look of “oh no, how much is this going to cost me?” covered his face.
“I have no idea what you need Sweetie.”
“I need a Grandmother. I don’t have one and I want one. I just need to adopt one.”
I’m sure those words went into the “Crazy Wife Ideas” file of my husband’s brain. He never mentioned it again and I honestly forgot about it. It was a fantasy not worth entertaining.
Though the movie was historically accurate, in today’s world it seems more like a fantasy. Can a group of humans live in primitive shelters on a common piece of land for an extended period of time in harmony? Can a white outsider like John Dunbar be accepted by a tribe of another culture and language? Americans take pride in the lines and rules that say, “this is my property” and “those are your kids” (and your problem). Professionals are hired to deliver our babies, care for our elderly and everything in between. Much has changed since the 19th century. Can we ever go backwards to the way things were?
Today my own family is behind the times. We were among the last to purchase a flat screen television. We don’t lead the trail on the latest and greatest and perhaps we are better off for it. Taking the road less traveled is common for us.
For the past two years my husband and I have been walking on a quiet road exploring the Jewish roots of our Christian faith. Our faith was strong but the religion part had some holes in it that weren’t making sense to us. It has been in this quiet solitude that we’ve had a greater capacity to think clearly and see the bigger picture of our decisions along the way.
All journeys need a compass. This device is unlike Google Maps, that dictate the exact turns to take and often lead to unnecessary toll roads. A compass is slightly different – it will simply point you in the right direction, but the turns, stops and speed are totally up to you. The journey may take longer but each step has purpose.
Our first major fork in the road arrived at the same time as our fifth child and first daughter – the fall of 2017. There was nonsense going on at our church. We were not involved in the drama and wanted to keep it that way. We were looking for a way to carve out more time to learn the Jewish side of Jesus, so we opted out of the Sunday morning service and learned at home with the children.
My husband had been reading books by Jonathan Cahn This Jewish pastor from New Jersey got our attention during an interview just a few months prior – we both found him fascinating so we began to watch him each week. This was followed by a video series highlighting a trip to Israel that a woman named Dani Johnson had taken with a group of her clients. Seeing her feet on the ground where Jesus walked planted a desire in me to go to Israel “one day – maybe in 5 or 6 years” **Much to my surprise, my husband sent me to Israel with Dani Johnson the following year (March 2019). That’s next on my list to blog about.**
As my daughter approached her first birthday my husband and I flew to Los Angeles to see Dani Johnson live on stage at her business, personal and finance conference, “First Steps to Success”. The event forever moved me in unexpected ways. (Check out The Legacy of Forgiveness)
If that wasn’t enough my husband met a boisterous man named Carlos. Carlos introduced him to his friend he called Rabbi David. That very night David would be leading prayers for Shabbat. We really didn’t know what to expect, but we were eager to hear what this Jewish man had to say.
It turns out that David was really of Cuban descent and the Pastor of a Messianic Congregation in Orlando, Florida. “Messianic” was a new vocabulary word for me. After the conference David had a casual Q&A time. He opened up by talking about water and what it mean to ancient people. He connected it to several Biblical accounts such as Noah, Jonah, Moses, Jesus walking on water and even the Lake of Fire. Our minds was blown! Meeting David was no accident. He was the compass we had been praying for.
We went to Orlando the following January (2019) for another Dani Johnson conference and much needed vacation before my husband deployed. That Saturday we put on our “Sunday Best” and walked in the doors of Beit Yisrael, the Messianic Congregation that David led. Not only was going to “church” on a Saturday totally foreign to us, so was half of the service since it was spoken first in English then translated into Spanish for the many Hispanics in attendance. Despite that we felt at home and the people were very warm and welcoming.
Passover was mentioned in a conversation. The feast that I and the Christian Community had dismissed as “Jewish Only” was coming up in a few months and Beit Yisreal was already making celebration plans.
At this point the wheels in my head really started turning and light bulbs were blinking.
“Were all the celebrations in the Bible just “Jewish” or were they Biblical and for all of God’s children?”
Just the spring before I had thrown out my beautiful artificial Christmas tree. I had become so disgusted by the commercialization of my Savior’s birthday. I asked myself what a dusty tree had to do with a Hebrew baby being born in Israel…no answer came to mind. During our home study time we learned that there was no possible way that Jesus was even born in December, but it was likely in the spring. It was Game Over for Christmas at our house. Stress just evaporated when my husband (to my surprise) told extended family one day that we would no longer be participating in the gift exchanges. When we told the kids they DID.NOT.CARE. When Christmas morning came they DID.NOT.CARE that we didn’t have a tree or gifts under it. Read that again if you’re already stressing about all the shopping you NEED to do.
That spring while my husband was on the other side of the world, I packed up the children for the 1,000 mile journey to Orlando to celebrate Passover. I participated in a Passover meal while in Israel and it was no chore to drive across the country so that my children could experience it too. HOW, WHY and WHO was to blame for Christians having nothing to do with the beautiful feast? It was one of the most meaningful celebrations I had ever participated in. Jesus is the Passover Lamb- that’s what the entire meal is all about! Passover has been labeled as “just Jewish” but it is clearly for all those who believe in Yeshua. Yeshua is the Hebrew and original name of Jesus. There is no “J” in Hebrew. But that’s a can of worms for another day.
I was eager to find out what other celebrations we had been missing out on. A Jewish calendar was purchased, placed on our refrigerator and we began to look ahead. The fall months were filled with holidays I struggled to pronounce – many of them I had just assumed were Muslim holidays- but obviously I was wrong!
Carlos, who had introduced us to David, mentioned Sukkot to me with a big grin on his face.
“You have to do Sukkot!”
He offered no explanation, just a smile and a look of absolute delight when the word Sukkot rolled off his tounge.
“Would it be crazy to go down to Orlando for a week to celebrate Sukkot?” my husband mentioned one night.
“Ummm…maybe?” I replied.
Don’t get me wrong. I love to travel, but I had already traveled thousands of miles that year alone around the country and globe. I was ready to stay home and finish a painting project that had been lingering since February. Reluctantly I agreed – having little idea what I was getting myself into. According to Rabbi Google and Leviticus 23, Sukkot is a week to stay in a temporary dwelling – basically a camping trip. No wonder my husband was eager to attend. Camping is his happy thought.
Details bring peace and tranquility to my soul- we had just a handful before driving down to Orlando for a third time that year. The campsite for the entire congregation was the back yard of Beit Yisrael. Would there be enough showers? What would the children do all day? Questions loomed.
Because we were transitioning from a conference on the other side of town, we missed the first few events of Sukkot – one being the construction of the Lulav. I was eager to understand why so many people had a unique greenery arrangement in their hand. Fortunately, David’s mother Natalie was on the schedule to teach a class about it. The congregation affectionately calls her Mimi but she is also known as Yoda. She really reminded me of the Tala, the precious Grandmother on Moana – so wise and so feisty!
Each night at Sukkot we waved the Lulav or whatever greenery we could find. I could explain it in detail but it would be more fun to watch (see below). Our conversations, laughter and celebrating went late into the night. It was good to see my husband rubbing shoulders with other men
At home his contact with uplifting men is limited. Many live within a ten mile radius of us, but work schedules severely limit those interactions. So my husband took advantage of every moment, coming to our tent long after I fell asleep.
Despite the late nights, Jeremy was still up early for morning prayers at 7am. By 9am I joined him as our group read through a chapter of Ecclesiastes each day. This book is traditionally read each year at Sukkot as a reminder that we need balance. This is a festival of joy, but you can’t party all the time. “Let your words be few” is in contrast to all the words spoken when you party.
Classes continued through out the day – teachings by David, Carlos, Mimi and several others from the congreation. Rich topics included Legacy, Leadership, Dreams and Marriage. Many of them were recorded live and can be found at Beit Yisrael, Messianic Gathering or Peculiar Sanctuary. My favorite recorded teaching was “His Creation Code” by Carlos and David.
Not everyone participated in the classes. Some stayed behind to cook insane amounts of food for the group. At first I was concerned about finding time to make meals with a full class schedule – but never fear…Maria has 80 lbs. of chicken and she is making soup for everyone – no joke! This went on all week. After a few days I figured out what was going on, abandoned my PB&J sandwich plans and rolled up my sleeves to help with some real food.
Carolina from Argentina taught me how to make empanadas. Millie and I made fried plantains from her home country of Puerto Rico. Francisco from the Dominican Republic made amazing Papaya Smoothies. Everyone cooked. Everyone shared. Food is my love language and I felt like I was going to burst❤
In between all of those activities were the children. I was very concerned about how to occupy them and keep them out of everyone’s way prior to pitching our tent. But when you live as a tribe the lines of responsibility become less rigid and everyone watches everyone’s kids. My stress level took a nose dive knowing that many hands were there to help my children when needed. Their days were spent making crafts, playing with Mimi’s cat Cookie and just enjoying the outdoors. They’ve never been so dirty or happy in their whole lives!
The mind will flourish in the absence of stress. My thoughts were deep as our 8 day celebration was reaching its final days. I really felt a connection to Mimi as she taught afternoon classes that are still blowing my mind. This dear woman not only speaks Spanish and English, but she knows Hebrew too. I decided that I want to be just like her when I grow up. Understanding Hebrew, History and Jewish customs changes the pages of any English Bible, no matter what version you’re loyal to, it is not the original text.
The words I spoke to my husband flashed back to me from just a few weeks prior. I had verbalized my silly desire to have a Grandmother. Mimi was who I was looking for! Like a child asking for candy, I asked Mimi if she would be my adopted Grandmother. With a hug she said “Yes” and I couldn’t be happier.
One evening during a service Mimi came up behind my husband and I, laid her hands on our shoulders and told us that she felt moved to pray for us. I couldn’t control the tears as she spoke life into us and prayed. Above all else she prayed for wisdom. It was powerful!
It occurred to me that I had found my tribe, my husband and children too. We all felt right at home when we were 1,000 miles from all things familiar, including our native tongue. This story-line was familiar, just like John Dunbar found that he belonged among people very different from him in the movie Dances with Wolves, we too found had found our place with a people quite different from us, yet the same.
This quote from the movie came to mind and sadness started to creep in as I knew it would soon be time to leave.
“I’ve never known a people so eager to laugh. So devoted to family. So dedicated to each other. And, the only word that came to mind was harmony.”
David and Nory Pavlik are not just the nice people everyone thinks they are – they are so much more. They are servants and leaders that are very rare in our world today. A congregation camping on a small piece of land (that speak two languages), with just three baños and a Tropical Storm showed up uninvited one day – a logistical nightmare for most and a recipe for disaster! However, the entire week was seamless – no drama!
My husband and I are so grateful for our friendship with the Pavliks and the entire Beit Yisrael community. If I had to sum up what I learned about Sukkot in one sentence, it would be this from my notes. “In order to be free you have to be content with the basics.” The “basics” bring underrated joy. We were all so happy sleeping in a tent, probably not showering enough in the Florida heat and just enjoying each other’s company.
As we settle back to life in Pennsylvania it makes me sad to see the celebrations taking place right now. There’s the Christianized Halloween, Pumpkin Olympics, Fall Tailgate Parties…I’m sure they’re fun, but what are they rooted in? There are appointed festivals in the Bible and very few people, including myself until recently, even know much about them. Sukkot was a blast and most of the world is missing out on it.
Just as we limited our sources of television programming in the 1980s, Christians today limit their spiritual programming to a select few sources today – sometimes that doesn’t even include the Bible. Look beyond what you’ve been taught by your Pastor or Priest. Dig deeper into topics mentioned in Sunday School. And please open up your Bible, starting with the first pages in the front. Someone, somewhere along the way decided to call the first part of the book the “Old Testament”. “Old” implies irrelevant, outdated and useless. Those first pages are rich and very relevant, telling the story of the foundation of the world. Find, ask, seek, knock. Pray for a compass like we did if you want to understand more. Doors will be opened and you will receive direction. I’m so thankful that we didn’t give up looking for answers.
Shalom!
