The People Of The Word, Chabad House, and Me, G*D Help Me!

Yesterday, in the mail, I received my copy of The People of the Word.  There is a video, if you are interested.

https://www.chabad.org/5588573

"In PEOPLE of the WORD we gain insight into fifty key Hebrew words that have been mistranslated and misunderstood for centuries. Each chapter takes the reader on an etymological journey into the big ideas that continue to shape Jewish thought, values, and culture to this day."

As it happens, the book is a product of Chabad.org.  Chabad is a large busy Jewish organization that has branches everywhere.  There is a branch in Seattle's University District as it also happens.

Now, some of you already know I had a younger sister, the youngest in the family who had mental and spiritual troubles.  In fact as the 1990s went on she appeared to be quite mad.  She was diagnosed with schizophrenia.  Of course doctors think the whole demon angle is nothing but more of the disease.  But, she had both.

She was in an unhappy marriage and had one young daughter.  Sometime during that time, she became convinced that she had a special relationship with G*d Himself.  I had daily interactions with her, trying to keep her on earth mentally.  She called me day and night, with wild stories.  The only times that I was safe from these terrifying phone calls were when I was in my car.  No mobile phones yet. She was frightening us by neglecting her daughter somewhat.  She was very giddy and happy at first. She was elated.  She took notions....

One night she decided that she wanted to go to Chabad House and witness to the Jews.  The spirits that were talking to her claimed to be Chaldeans and told her to go do this.  Her husband pretty much had washed his hands of the whole thing and I was afraid that she would try to get there on her own somehow, so I agreed to take her.  I would not do that now'days.  This is probably the most embarrassing experience of my lifetime.

She couldn't find a head covering.  The spooks told her she had to cover her head, so she pinned a pillow case on her head like a veil and away we went.  Her child was at home with her husband.  She jabbered away all the way to the U. District about God and Jesus and Jews and Chaldeans...etc etc.  I was not happy.

She appeared to be totally unaware of the fact that she darn well was of Jewish descent.  Whatever.  Turns out that the people in the Chabad House had seen mad people before, who felt called upon to visit them.  They were utterly gracious and kind.  The rabbi, one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen, understood the position I was in, and tried to keep it all quiet and un-noticed.  I must take a line or two to describe him, since I am so darn visual.  He was a composition in black and white, completely.  His hat was black of course, skin dead white, beard black, shirt blindingly white, suit black.  He was the most black and white man ever.  Lotty did her thing, on the women's side of the room, raising her hands and wearing her pillow case.  I don't even remember the sense of the "prayers".

At last I was able to convince her that we needed to go home.  When we got out to the sidewalk, she keeled over on the ground and would not get up.  She demanded that I go to a certain house and get her some water.  OK, wth.  Now, Lotty was a big girl and she looked pretty silly on the ground wearing her pillow case.  So to shorten the scene I went up to the house she had indicated, knocked on the door and asked for a cup of water.  Why should we stop being insane now?

The person who opened the door must have been thinking the same way, so she got me a paper cup of water and I took it to Lotty.  She drank it and got up and we went home.

This is how I ended up working in that deliverance ministry.  I took her to a man I knew through friends who did this work, and we tried to help her get rid of her oppression.  The first session was so shocking to me, who had never seen such stuff that when I got home I went to bed exhausted. We worked with her for many months.  I ended up helping out with others because I have a sensitivity to this junk and I was willing.  People who do such prayer require a witness, at least, for their own protection against accusations, like any minister.  Besides that function, it was up to me to grok areas of need, a sort of diagnosis.

She never got free. I don't know why.  Until she took her own life, she continued to hear voices telling her horrible horrible things, night and day.  I swear I understand why she did it.

Here she is on a happier day. I guess the connecting thought is that when I see the word Chabad I am sad, embarrassed, but thankful that they were so kind to my mad little sister.