"Fraud . .. deception ... playing with religious tradition." These harsh words, aimed at a new movement of Jewish-born Christians, spill forth from Rabbi Marc Tanenbaum of the American Jewish Committee, normally one of Judaism's most temperate envoys to Christianity. His target: the so-called Messianic Jews, who insist that they can adopt a belief in Jesus as the Messiah and yet remain as Jewish as ever.
In the earliest days of the church, of course. Christians were accepted as being Jews, and the Messianic Jews say they are trying to re-establish those bygone days. Ever since the two faiths divided, however, proselytism has been one of their touchiest disputes, exacerbated by Christian anti-Semitism and centuries of forced conversions. Most Jews fiercely resent all proselytizing, and many Christian denominations now oppose organized efforts to convert Jews.
Shun Labels. Among the Messianic Jews, however, proselytizing is part of the faith. Exactly what that faith is, though, is confusing to the outsider. Although the Messianic Jews hold to orthodox Christian doctrines such as the deity of Christ, which Judaism considers idolatry, they often shun labels like "convert" or "Christian." Some retain Jewish traditions like Saturday worship and the wearing of skullcaps, or call their leaders "rabbis" and their meeting places "synagogues." To Jewish leaders such as Tanenbaum, they are simply Christian evangelists masquerading as Jews to gain more converts. In any case, since the late 1960s, perhaps 10,000 to 20,000 young U.S. Jews have decided to follow Jesus.
Much of the tumult in the movement is now swirling around a Pentecostal group in Stony Brook. Long Island, called B'nai Yeshua (Sons of Jesus), which draws up to 200 people for Friday-night services and claims to run the world's first major "messianic training center." It has 30 students at present and 31 full-time evangelists who are waging a summer campaign.
This month B'nai Yeshua dedicated its twelve-acre, $1,105,000 estate during a conference attended by 700 believers, about two-thirds of them Jewish. Leader Mike Evans, 29, presided like an auctioneer over fund-raising appeals ("Tell every single person what you want them to do. Lord") and faith-healing marathons ("There's a man with a gall bladder problem sitting over there. Well, you're God's beloved"). At one point Evans appealed for commitments to Jesus, blending Jewish terminology with tent revivalism: "Great God of Israel, I need forgiveness for my sins. I believe that Yeshua Jesus is the Messiah."
Professing amazement at the opposition B'nai Yeshua has aroused from Long Island Jews and Establishment Protestants, Evans says: "We are just a bunch of young Jewish kids." Evans, who was given a weak religious upbringing by his Jewish mother, ran a Texas Bible camp until he felt God tell him that a great revival was coming in the New York City area. Despite his Jewish emphasis, he gets backing from such Gentile Pentecostal stalwarts as Christian Broadcaster Pat Robertson and Evangelist David Wilkerson.