Hippies for Jesus

By Kevin C. Hudak | Tuesday, May 11, 2004

A group referring to itself as the Twelve Tribes of Israel parted the waves of the Connecticut River (or crossed Ledyard Bridge) and visited the campus April 23rd, parking their brown and white 1970s-era coach bus in front of McNutt Hall. After a "discussion" with the Hanover police, the visitors moved their vehicle next to Rauner Library alongside the rest of the ancient artifacts.

— Vintage bus, vintage ideas —

When I approached the severe, grey-bearded sentry outside the bus door, he claimed his group "came around to let people know what we have and to talk to people, let them know what we're doing and invite them to come." Off to one side, a grungy man strummed his acoustic guitar on the sidewalk while posing in his hiking attire for pictures with little kids and Dartmouth ultra-liberals alike. According to the sentry, Ezekiel, whose specialty was long-winded, meaningless allusions to the Acts of the Apostles, the Tribes "decided to turn our backs away from the present society, which is motivated and geared by self." As such, they made "a whole new social order, which is bringing about a culture where we live in the world but we don't partake in all of the things the world does."

Ezekiel explained that the denizens of the bus, dubbed the "Peacemaker," were not alone, but instead belonged to a community of thirty or so free-thinkers who live on a farm in Bells Falls, VT. Indeed, their community exists alongside the eleven other "tribes" in places like Australia, Germany, France, Brazil and Spain. Besides cultivating "special wheat" and running a "common grounds" restaurant, Ezekiel proclaimed that "We laugh and play music!" He added, that the Tribes make many of their own instruments and "write music that is clean music," so that "our children have a chance to be grown up." I had no idea what he meant. Half-expecting the rickety bus to disintegrate before our very eyes, a few other Review staffers and I were still attempting to decipher Ezekiel's foreign logic when he exclaimed, bizarrely, "It's just been amazing. But it's a matter of heart—totally a matter of heart!" Totally.

The Pure Moods tunes wafting from the open door of the bus lured us in like the Sirens' song. As we entered the comfortably furnished bus, we encountered leather wineskins stapled to the roof (their pamphlets exclaimed, "Never put new wine into old wineskins!"), along with six to eight more free-thinkers sitting on upholstered benches.

While sipping on special Brazilian herbal tea (they claim to be the country's number-one importer) and eating suspicious-looking brownies, Shalom and Joshua regaled us with stories of their new lives with each other. In response to a confession from one member of our group that he was a traditional Roman Catholic, Ezekiel from outside the bus admitted to being a Catholic until he was age 14 or 15, but "that wasn't real." Joshua, spewing theology, explained that the old Israel failed and that "God will raise up a new Israel from among the nations—he will gather people from around the world" and "call them the New Israel and they will fulfill what old Israel should have."

Joshua said the group has its origins thirty years ago. "A man and his wife were Christians and believed in Jesus," he began, "and opened up their heart and home and it just started growing." Telling the students that "we really didn't know who we are," Joshua claimed that they solved this major problem by taking Hebrew names and refusing to call Jesus by any name other than his Hebrew name, Yashua.

Although the group professes no political agenda, Ezekiel said he believes that "we're all different; we may be of all different nationalities. We have to live to maintain peace for us to even claim to know the one true God. Because he is Peace." Nor were the Twelve Tribes lacking in geopolitical theory. "The world has many nations around us," one explained. "The nations are on power trips," wanting "to dominate and rule." To get involved, Ezekiel instructed students to "be law-abiding. We don't demonstrate, we don't go around and do these things—we're concerned, but we don't get on the bandwagon, because that's the way of the world—to just try to make the world a better place." The others solemnly nodded in agreement when he continued, "It's already prophesized [sic] that the world is heading for destruction and that it will be destroyed one day."

Shalom regretted being involved with the modern price and money system after claiming that he had "blundered his way through life." Speaking about the Peacemaker and the costs involved, he said, "The food budget for this one week for ten people was four hundred dollars. I mean we could have taken that money and bought another car!" Even his fellow frugal anti-consumerists realized he was being daft and pointed out that his price estimate was a bit low. "All right, maybe a kayak," he replied. One free-thinker piped in, "Or how about a dynamite bicycle!" Talk about separation from the real world.

Hippies for Jesus

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