Saturday, January 10, 1998

Battle among Jews brewing in Chicago

By Steve Kloehn / Chicago Tribune

CHICAGO -- Through an unmarked door on Devon Avenue, up a dark stairway and into a threadbare suite of rooms, a dozen Russian immigrants gird themselves for another two-hour wrestling match with the English language.

In the former Soviet Union, they were scientists, engineers and college professors. Here in the United States, however, employers are not much interested in those skills. Nor, for that matter, do politicians court their votes or advertisers chase their slim wallets.

In fact, for some of these middle-aged men and women, it seems that Americans want only one thing from them: their souls.

Here in West Rogers Park, where many of Chicago's 50,000 Russian-speaking Jews have made their homes, there is a spiritual battle under way.

On one side are people who call themselves Messianic Jews -- people who embrace Jewish customs and celebrate Jewish religious rituals while preaching that Jesus is the Christ, the Messiah. Often linked to evangelical Protestant churches, they offer books, cookies and the promise of salvation.

On the other side are Jews, both Russian and American, who insist that you can be a Jew or be a Christian, but not both. Now, led by the local chapter of the American Jewish Committee, they are beginning their own advertising campaign to warn immigrants away from the Messianic Jews.

While the Christian proselytism to Russian Jews -- whose lack of strong religious affiliation makes them promising candidates for evangelism -- goes on throughout the United States, Russia and Israel, Chicago has become a test case for opponents of Messianic Jews. The success of the American Jewish Committee's campaign here may determine whether similar efforts are mounted from New York to Tel Aviv to Moscow.

For nearly 2,000 years, believers in Christ have tried to convert Jews, an effort that was sometimes biblical, sometimes political, and often interwoven with cultural oppression of Jews. In this century, most mainline Christian churches have backed off evangelism of Jews.

But from the 15-million-member Southern Baptist Convention to storefront groups of Messianic Jews, many still believe it is their sacred duty -- to themselves, to God and to the Jews -- to share their faith.

That approach has raised bitter controversies over how far a person should go in preaching his beliefs, and whether some forms of evangelism are anti-Semitic. The issues become still more complex in a neighborhood like West Rogers Park, where the audience is materially needy and culturally unprepared for the rambunctious exchange of ideas that make up religion in America.

The vast majority of Jewish immigrants from Russia did not practice their inherited religion there, don't practice it here, and don't know quite what to make of the Americans who are so interested in their spiritual state.

"Most of us are atheists," shrugged Rosalie Borisovskaya, one of the English students gathered last month at the Association of Engineers and Scientists for New Americans, the secular, non-profit organization on Devon.

Last month, she said, two men came to her door offering Bibles -- New Testament included -- and videos. Borisovskaya thought it would be a good chance to practice her English, so she invited them in, and they talked for half an hour. Finally, she had enough: "I don't like their pressure."

But she and the other 350 members of the Association of Engineers and Scientists can hardly ignore the presence of the Messianic Jews.

At the top of the long stairway up from Devon, there is a landing, just large enough to hold one person. Ahead is the door for the Association.

Just inches away is the door for Kol Emeth, a non-profit ministry of Messianic Jews. A sign, in Cyrillic letters, says "Voice of Truth." On the doorframe hangs a mezuzah, a pen-sized container holding, according to ancient tradition, a piece of the Torah -- a sign that one is entering the home of an observant Jew.

Kol Emeth director Kirk Gliebe grew up Jewish, though not observant. When he was 14 he was converted to belief in Jesus as Christ. He later earned a degree in Jewish studies at the Moody Bible Institute, and two years ago formed Kol Emeth.

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"Our emphasis is to clearly articulate that we believe Yeshua (Jesus) is the Messiah," Gliebe said.

He said he is Kol Emeth's only employee, supported by individual donations from other Messianic Jews and some Christians. He explained that he spends most of his time meeting with people referred to him, one-on-one, and answering their questions about Messianic Judaism. He also leads "a couple of dozen people" in different Bible study groups.

Although he acknowledges that he focuses on Russian Jews -- "They're the ones who need it most" -- he said that his decision to rent the suite next door to the Association of Engineers and Scientists, one of the more prominent community groups for Russian immigrants, was coincidental. The space, he said, was affordable.

Last fall, Kol Emeth advertised English classes for Russian speakers -- a service also offered by the Association. Gliebe said that although no classes are currently being given, Kol Emeth will offer English instruction again in January.

Gliebe argues that there is no inconsistency today in being a Jew and believing in Jesus as the Messiah, any more than there was for Jesus' Jewish disciples. As for trying to convert others, Gliebe cites not only the gospel exhortations that believers go out and preach, but a secular analogy that is familiar to many evangelists.

"If your house was burning down, and I knew that to be the absolute truth, then whether you believe it or not I'm going to drag you out," Gliebe said. "This is the most important thing in the world."

But Mark Peysakhovich of the American Jewish Committee does not see it as an act of charity.

"Growing up in Moscow, I was beaten up by kids whose parents had taught them the Jews killed Jesus," Peysakhovich said.

Then, when he was 10, the Peysakhovich family emigrated from Russia, ending up temporarily in Italy. There, with few possessions and no money, he remembers the nice man who gave him a free storybook to read. Only as he was part way through reading it did Peysakhovich realize it was the New Testament.

Recollections of those feelings of betrayal and discrimination came flooding back to Peysakhovich this fall, when he went to visit the leaders of the Association of Engineers and Scientists and saw the Kol Emeth sign.

Peysakhovich decided to begin researching the activity of Messianic Jews in West Rogers Park. Ultimately he raised private donations of more than $7,500 to run a series of advertisements in Chicago's seven Russian-language newspapers and on Russian-language radio programs.

Fira Zubatova, founder of the Association of Engineers and Scientists for New Americans and a Russian immigrant in 1991, said that so far, she does not know of any members of the Association who have been converted through Kol Emeth.

Mostly, she said, she worries that Kol Emeth will confuse children who come to the Association on weekends to take art, math and Russian language lessons.

Though she is not active in any synagogue, Zubatova said that the efforts of Messianic Jews over the years have never swayed her beliefs.

"My Jewish God," she said, "is in my head and in my heart."

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(c) 1998, Chicago Tribune.

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