By: S.R. Shearer

The other day I received an email from Bob Mertes, whom I mentioned in my article, "Understanding What You Will Be Facing during the Tribulation." The email read in part,

"Dear Steve,

"... Steve you have to trust that others are capable of hearing from God ... Our Lord has blessed you with great insight, however, it does not give you license to abuse His people. That's His people Steve not your people ... I am in a good place and I know the Lord has been patient with me ... If you think yourself justified in writing about others the way you have you better give some thought to who you are attacking. I love you brother or I wouldn't bother taking the time. Patience is a fruit of the Spirit. We're all being transformed by Christ who love Him and want to hear well done my good and faithful servant. Your responsibility is to blow the trumpet not beat the saints who love you with it. Guess what Steve we all do hear from Jesus who are chosen before the foundation of the earth ... I simply want to follow and hold on to Him.

"Love you, brother.

"Bob Mertes"

Naturally enough, Bob is not the only one who has taken me to task for the way I "attack the brethren." There are many, many others - all of whom chide me for being "unkind" and "unloving."

In all of this, I am reminded of the story of Moishe the Beadle as told by Elie Wiesel in his book, Night. Born in the town of Sighet, Transylvania (now a part of Romania, then a part of Hungary), Wiesel was a teenager when he and his family were taken from their home in 1944 to the Auschwitz concentration camp, and then to Buchenwald. Night is the terrifying record of Wiesel's memories of the death of his family, the death of his own innocence, and his despair as a deeply observant Jew confronting the absolute evil of man.

NOTE: The term "Beadle" is not to be confused with beetle. It is a religious term given to the caretaker of a synagogue

Elie Wiesel & Night

Sighet, Transylvania - then a part of Hungary.

Wiesel writes:

"They called him Moishe the Beadle, as if his entire life he had never had a surname. He was the jack-of-all-trades in a Hasidic house of prayer, a shtibl. The Jews of Sighet - a little town in Transylvania where I spent my childhood - were fond of him. He was poor and lived in utter penury. As a rule, our townspeople, while they did help the needy, did not particularly like them. Moishe the Beadle was the exception."

"He stayed out of people's way. His presence bothered no one. He had mastered the art of rendering himself insignificant, invisible.

"Physically, he was as awkward as a clown. His waiflike shyness made people smile. As for me, I liked his wide, dreamy eyes, gazing off into the distance. He spoke little. He sang, or rather he chanted, and the few snatches I caught here and there spoke of divine suffering, of the Shekinah in Exile, where, according to Kabbalah, it awaits its redemption linked to that of man.

"I met him in 1941 [three years into the Second World War]. I was almost thirteen and deeply observant. By day I studied Talmud and by night I would run to the synagogue to weep over the destruction of the Temple ... I began studying Kaballah with him ... and in the course of those evenings I became convinced that Moishe the Beadle would help me enter eternity ...

Crammed into cattle cars.

"And then, one day all foreign Jews were expelled from Sighet. And Moishe the Beadle was a foreigner [i.e., he was not a citizen of Hungary].

"Crammed into cattle cars by the Hungarian police, they cried silently. Standing on the station platform, we too were crying. The train disappeared over the horizon; all that was left was thick, dirty smoke.

"Behind me, someone said, sighing, 'What do you expect? That's war ...'

"The deportees were quickly forgotten. A few days after they left, it was rumored that they were in Galicia [in Poland], working, and even that they were content with their fate. Days went by. Then weeks and months. Life was normal again. A calm, reassuring wind blew through our homes. The shopkeepers were doing good business, the students lived among their books, and the children played in the streets.

"One day, as I was about to enter the synagogue, I saw Moishe the Beadle sitting on a bench near the entrance. He told me what had happened to him and his companions. The train with the deportees had crossed the Hungarian border and, once in Polish territory, had been taken over by the Gestapo. The train had stopped. The Jews were ordered to get off and onto waiting trucks. The trucks headed toward a forest. There everybody was ordered to get out. They were forced to dig huge trenches. When they had finished their work, the men from the Gestapo began theirs. Without passion or haste, they shot their prisoners, who were forced to approach one by one and offer their necks. Infants were tossed into the air and used as targets for the machine guns. This took place in the Galician forest, near Kolomay."

Killing Jews in the Galician forest near Kolomay.

"How had he, Moishe the Beadle, been able to escape? By a miracle. He was wounded in the leg and left for dead ...

"Day after day, night after night, he [i.e., Moishe] went from one Jewish home to the next [in Sighet] telling his story and that of Malka, the young girl who lay dying for three days, and that of Tobie, the tailor who begged to die before his sons were killed. Moishe was not the same. The joy in his eyes was gone. He no longer sang. He no longer mentioned either God or Kabbalah. He spoke only of what he had seen. BUT PEOPLE NOT ONLY REFUSED TO BELIEVE HIS TALES, THEY REFUSED TO LISTEN. Some even insinuated that he only wanted their pity, that he was imagining things. Others flatly said that he had gone mad.

"As for Moishe, he wept and pleaded: 'Jews, listen to me! That's all I ask of you. No money. No pity. Just listen to me'! he kept shouting in synagogue, between the prayer at dusk and the evening prayer. Even I did not believe him. I often sat with him, after services, and listened to his tales, trying to understand his grief. But all I felt was pity.

"'They think that I am mad', he whispered, and tears like drops of wax, flowed from his eyes. Once I asked him the question, 'Why do you want people to believe you so much? In your place I would not care whether they believed me or not ...'

"He closed his eyes, as if to escape time. 'You don't understand', he said in despair. 'You cannot understand. I was saved miraculously. I succeeded in coming back. Where did I get my strength? I wanted to return to Sighet to describe to you my death so that you might ready yourselves while there is still time. Life? I no longer care to live. I am alone. But I wanted to come back to warn you. ONLY NO ONE IS LISTENING TO ME ...'

"This was toward the end of 1941. Thereafter, life seemed normal once again ... I continued to devote myself to my studies ... My father took care of his business and the community. My grandfather came to spend Rosh Hashanah with us so as to attend the services of the celebrated Rebbe of Borsche. My mother was beginning to think it was high time to find an appropriate match for my sister, Hilda.

"And then the Germans came ..."

And then the German came.

It is in the light of this that I think of Bob's words to me:

"... Steve you have to trust that others are capable of hearing from God ... Our Lord has blessed you with great insight, however, it does not give you license to abuse His people."

However, the question here is not so much "INSIGHT," as Bob alleges. The Bible is plain enough. The Prophetic Scriptures are there for anyone to read. Believe me when I say, I have no "special way" of communicating with God more than anyone else. He does not come down to me during the night with secrets He tells to no one else. I - like you - have only the Word of God - AND THAT SHOULD BE ENOUGH! Jesus said:

"There was a certain rich man, which was clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every day:

"And there was a certain beggar named Lazarus, which was laid at his gate, full of sores,

"And desiring to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man's table: moreover the dogs came and licked his sores.

"And it came to pass, that the beggar died, and was carried by the angels into Abraham's bosom: the rich man also died, and was buried;

"And in hell he lift up his eyes, being in torments, and seeth Abraham afar off, and Lazarus in his bosom.

"And he cried and said, Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger in water, and cool my tongue; for I am tormented in this flame.

"But Abraham said, Son, remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things: but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented.

"And beside all this, between us and you there is a great gulf fixed: so that they which would pass from hence to you cannot; neither can they pass to us, that would come from thence.

"Then he said, I pray thee therefore, father, that thou wouldest send him to my father's house:

"For I have five brethren; that he may testify unto them, lest they also come into this place of torment.

"Abraham saith unto him, THEY HAVE MOSES AND THE PROPHETS [i.e., the Word of God]; LET THEM HEAR THEM.

"And he said, Nay, father Abraham: but if one went unto them from the dead, they will repent.

"And he said unto him, IF THEY HEAR NOT MOSES AND THE PROPHETS [in other words, the Word of God], NEITHER WILL THEY BE PERSUADED, THOUGH ONE ROSE FROM THE DEAD." (Luke 16:19-31)

"For this people's heart is waxed gross, and their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes they have closed."

The problem is,

"... in them is [being] fulfilled the prophecy of Esaias, which saith, By hearing ye shall hear, and shall not understand; and seeing ye shall see, and shall not perceive:

"For this people's heart is waxed gross, and their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes they have closed; lest at any time they should see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and should understand with their heart, and should be converted, and I should heal them." (Matthew 13:14-15)

The Word of God stands:

"And I heard another voice from heaven, saying, COME OUT OF HER, my people, that ye be not partakers of her sins, and that ye receive not of her plagues." (Revelation 18:4) [Please see our article, "Come out of Her."]

Nonetheless, Bob concludes:

"Steve, I AM IN A GOOD PLACE [meaning North Carolina] and I know the Lord has been [will be] patient with me ... Guess what Steve we all do hear from Jesus ..."

That's what Elie Wiesel and the people of Sighet said to Moishe the Beadle.

Once again, we URGE you to read (or re-read):

God bless you all!

S.R. Shearer,
Antipas Ministries




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