There was no way of knowing at the time that the changes Chaim was undergoing would one day give him a reputation as a monstrous killer. He was too busy trying to follow his conscience, and trying to answer to that of God within his own heart. Nevertheless, there were hints that what he was going through was pointing toward a destiny that was vastly different to anything he had expected before the fall of America.
Ben Black and David Hartley moved in with him, in his plush apartment not far from the University of Newcastle. They continued to come and go from Newcastle, as they visited Aboriginal communities around Australia. Their efforts centered around a commitment to Christianity, while Chaim himself was primarily searching for answers that could be relevant to people of all religions.
The idea of a culture where people worked for the good of others, without regard for money, was appealing even in the world as Chaim had always known it before the fall of America. But if spiritually dark times really were ahead, he could see how it might eventual y become a necessity for survival as well.
During the Reformation, the Anabaptists were hated and hunted by both Catholics and Protestants because they had refused to become a part of either of the politically warring factions. Their peace-loving stance nearly resulted in them being wiped out. The Pilgrims fled England because of religious persecution, and the Quakers of that same era found themselves hated even by the other Pilgrims after they arrived in America, because of their ideals. Each movement, however, had eventually mellowed with regard to some of their more offensive beliefs, possibly in an effort to escape persecution and to be re-absorbed back into the mainstream. Jehovah's Witnesses, who still refused to recognise the sovereignty of any political system over their loyalty to God, probably represented the nearest thing to the fanaticism that had resulted in persecution for each of the earlier movements.
So what if, Chaim thought, there was a time coming when a revival of faith would be met by an equal revival of persecution? Wouldn't it be helpful to have an army of people who were able to survive underground? This was the kind of reasoning that had earlier piqued his interest in Vaishnu's philosophy. The idea of people working for love instead of for money would be eminently practical...with or without dark times.
It came as a surprise when Chaim was approached after meeting one Sunday and asked if a threshing meeting could be arranged at his place, during which Friends could express their concerns about what he was doing. As an elder himself, he knew that such a move should have gone through the Ministry and Oversight Committee, of which he was a member. But he was also surprised, because he had assumed that most Friends were unaware of what was happening in his private life. For a threshing meeting to be called, someone must be feeling pretty strongly about what was happening to him. He agreed to host such a meeting at his flat on a Saturday afternoon two weeks later.
More than a dozen Friends turned up, and most of them were not from Chaim's local meeting. The convenor reminded everyone that they were there just to hear people out, and not to make any decisions or to discipline anyone.
People had questions that they wanted to put to Chaim, and so he was being offered an opportunity to hear the questions and to share his concern. That was all .
"These men who are staying with you -- Ben and David -- do you know much about what they're teaching in the Aboriginal community?" asked Barbara, a young Friend who was actively involved in social work with Aborigines in northern New South Wales.
"Yes, I do," said Chaim. "But you know, Ben and David aren't Friends themselves. They don't even attend."
"Do you support them in what they're saying?" asked Barbara.
Chaim could see that he would need to be careful about how he answered that one.
"I support their right to share their faith in whatever way they see fit," he said with a grin.
Barbara then went on to describe in her own words what she felt Ben and David were doing. They were frightening Aborigines with talk about the end of the world, and they were disrupting communities by steering young people (and a few oldies) away from their jobs, their families, and so many of the social support networks that had been set up in that state for indigenous people.
Chaim asked whether it was fair to discuss Ben and David, since they were not present to defend themselves.
"What about you? What is your position on these things?" asked Barbara more pointedly.
Before Chaim could answer, the presiding clerk gently eldered Barbara for not letting others share before she commented further. Quaker practice is to restrict individuals from hogging the floor; ideally, everyone speaks once before anyone speaks twice.
Dorine, an older Quaker who had come from Canberra for the meeting, spoke next.
"You know, we Friends have had a long history of interest in Aboriginal issues. But we've never had many indigenous attenders, much less members. I wonder if what these two men are doing may be at least as relevant to the needs of the Aboriginal people of Australia as anything else that we're doing?" There was no response to that, though Chaim was encouraged by Dorine's observation.
Then Dennis, another elder from Sydney, a retired accountant with whom Chaim had felt tensions over minor issues even before this sudden change in his life, spoke up.
"Bible prophecy? End of the world? Is this really what they need to hear?
What Chaim's frends are teaching has nothing to do with tribal religion; it's just Christian fundamentalism. Friends, you know I'm christocentric myself; but I don't go so far as to support this kind of talk."
After a moment of silence, Chaim asked for an opportunity to respond.
Because he was the subject of the meeting, he had the option of speaking more often than the others.
"I can't really speak for Ben or David," he said. "But I've been experiencing something quite powerful in my time with the Aborigines over the past year. Listening is a big part of it, and that's very much in keeping with the way we worship. But there's something else that we Friends may have missed.
It has more to do with their understanding of history. I know the reputation Bible prophecy has, but if we could see prophecy more from the Aboriginal perspective, I think there may be something in it that could actually unite people instead of dividing them.
Chaim was surprised to hear himself talking in this way. Being put on the spot, he was saying things in defence of prophecy that he had not even consciously thought out prior to the threshing meeting.
As the discussion progressed, there were a few questions which seemed to show genuine concern for how Chaim was going to survive when his savings ran out, and some people lovingly expressed concern for where all of this was leading.
But the overall spirit of the meeting was one of deep concern for what he was getting himself mixed up in. He was reminded that Bible prophecy usually did not result in people being more loving.
There was some probing into how much overlap exists between tribal prophecy and Bible prophecy. Chaim said that he felt the Aboriginal approach was far more subjective than that of Western religion. Because of that, and their absence of written records, he felt that Aborigines could adapt to the truths that existed in other religions at the same time that they seemed to have a clarity about what the Spirit was saying here and now. He noted that this was often lacking when religions became entrenched in historical interpretations of ancient writings. Most of those present seemed relieved to hear that he had a higher regard for the Aboriginal approach than he did for the traditional Christian approach.
Dennis (who most likely was the force behind the meeting), and one or two others, did not seem at all satisfied with Chaim's answers, but most of those present left more supportive (or less antagonistic, as the case might be) than they were when they arrived.