The Daniel John Lee Story- Part Two

The consequences of divisiveness are an ever-present reality in the life of Daniel Lee. By Daniel’s own admission, or perhaps boast, he has been thrown in jail, been physically assaulted, been kicked out of numerous churches, synagogues and bible study groups, and has received numerous and hateful e-mails from proponents of several denominations, faiths and belief systems. In spite of such conflict though, Daniel remains undaunted, almost proud, of his many quarrels with the state of Oregon, his ex-wife, and those who disagree with his particularly fiery brand of Messianic Judaism. In his own words, Daniel reveals his opinion concerning those who would oppose him: “So, I can say without a doubt, that whatever I am doing, it certainly must be effective or else I would not be causing so many religious devils to rise up against me. I take this as a big encouragement."

I was now getting in the habit of watching Daniel's sermons at the campus of Portland State, and it was emotionally exhausting. While it had been less than a week since I'd first met Daniel, the anger which he both displayed and created in others was becoming increasingly difficult to witness. For the next few days, beneath the low-hanging branches of finely manicured oak trees, nestled between Smith Memorial Student Union and the Blackstone Dorm building, I watched Daniel’s nearly daily sermons among Muslims, Christians, Atheists and Agnostics alike, and if I could find one sentence to summarize these sermons, it would be, unhesitatingly, this: Daniel really ticked people off.

One Christian student, Paige, began crying as she watched him. Another student, but by no means the only one, could barely get the words out he so urgently wished to express. Visibly shaken, his face a shade of crimson red, he uttered the only complete sentence he could avoid stumbling on: “You’re such a f***ing a**hole!” It wasn't Daniel’s content that raised his listener’s blood pressure though, but rather the means by which that content was delivered. And Daniel knew this. In fact, it seemed as if he relished in the anger of his listeners and almost encouraged their rage. On certain days, when he had a really argumentative audience, when people would get within one inch of his face and scream out their disagreements, Daniel would remain for over four hours, his booming voice inevitably succumbing to overuse .

While it’s probably true that a good portion of PSU students hold a tolerant mindset towards those religious opinions diverging from their own, when Daniel stuck his finger in a man’s face and yelled “Listen to me you demon-possessed faggot! You are fit to be burned!” it could be argued that he lost some credibility, and that he came very close to being hurt. That, in a nutshell, was the scene during the 2009 spring sermons at PSU, or as Daniel so optimistically termed it, “The Great Portland Revival.”

It was while walking through downtown Portland after witnessing a particularly volatile street-preaching session that I further ruminated on my prior interview with Daniel and his words concerning his ex-wife Annika. I recalled that during that talk a fair amount of what I deemed inappropriate information concerning his ex-wife was shared: "She had turned her back on God." "She was sexually promiscuous." "She was wicked." A messy divorce had cost Daniel the privilege of seeing his children Isaiah, Elijah, Miriam, Naomi, Malachi and Simon, and as Daniel spoke of his “little lambs,” an uncharacteristic stumbling of words had occurred, the product of an obvious sore spot in Daniels’ heart.  Anger towards Annika though, who had full custody of the children, jolted him out of his sad reverie, and with a prophecy that he wouldsoon have his children back, Daniel effectively steamrolled over the emotion lodged in his throat, and returned to (what else?) the Torah.

It was something to ponder, this situation and Daniel’s interpretation of it. Why would the state grant his ex-wife custody if she was such an evil person? A woman who, according to Daniel, had committed adultery, who was sleeping with a porn-addicted pedophile, and who had intentionally, and successfully turned Daniel’s own family against him? “I chose the Torah over my own wife,” Daniel said. “I loved her, but that relationship is done. I can never return to her. I made my choice. I chose Yahweh.”

As I made my way through the polished, green and grey grid of downtown Portland, I honestly wondered if Daniel was, in some ways, right. Couldn’t his volatile methods of preaching be considered a necessary evil? A way to shock the American public out of its ever-increasing religious apathy? And what of his ex? Was it possible she really was the “whore of Babylon” that Daniel claimed her to be, a lost sheep who had strayed from the true teachings of Christ? And if Daniel was right, how did this affect my own faith? Had I missed a crucial component during all those years spent in confirmation classes, church sermons, and in the study of the Bible itself? Was a lifetime of mixing fibers and consuming inordinate amounts of batter-fried shrimp and bacon a detriment to my spiritual walk? That evening, in the Fred Meyer on 39^th and Hawthorne, after searching for what seemed an eternity in grocery store time, I succumbed to curiosity, and bought a box of kosher Passover crackers, Daniel’s snack of choice. They tasted terrible. I ate the entire box.

Judging from an e-mail I’d received that night, I had obviously made a very good impression on Daniel. I was invited to a Friday night, beginning of Shabat* party at Daniel’s home. He wanted to go hiking. He called me 'friend' and said that I was the reason he’d preached on that one rainy, mediocre day. Yahweh, Daniel claimed, had used me to further the cause of the Torah. His language made me nervous though, and gave me the impression that Daniel viewed me as some sort of journalistic crusader for his ministry. Evidently I'd already been deemed a convert, my silence indicating my total consent.

Within minutes of reading Daniel's slightly disturbing message to me, I contacted Annika, and found her more than eager to talk over coffee and tell me her side of the story. While this meeting was still days away, I continued my communication with Daniel, a task that Daniel made all too easy. It appeared to me that Daniel thrived on attention, and there were very few emails sent to him that were not responded to within minutes. I was aware, however, that Daniel's favorable opinion of me was directly conditional upon the absence of my verbalized opinion of him, an opinion that was growing more and more negative with each passing day. 

I had a gnawing suspicion that when Daniel read my finished assignment, when he saw that I hadn’t spoken of him in the glowing, near-divine terms he'd reserved for himself, that I’d lose my special place and join the boring, mainstream ranks of Daniel's enemies. I’d be condemned, damned, and would finally have to experience what hundreds had experienced before: the rebuke of Daniel. It wasn’t anything to look forward to. But whatever the case, I had to know, and see for myself, what sort of church, or synagogue, or whatever, Daniel belonged to, and he was all too eager to point me in the right direction. That Saturday, at 9 am, I buttoned up my finest Pierre Cardin, pressed a pair of khaki Dockers, windexed my dusty black wingtips, and caught the number 70 bus going south, to where I’d heard the “Lion of Judah” synagogue was located.

*Shabat is the equivalent of the Christian Sabbath, a day of rest and worship that falls on Saturday, not Sunday.

Greetings in the Matchless Love of YahShua!!!

I arrived on campus just before 1pm. When I arrived, to my dismay, a large rock concert was in progress. When I inquired as to when they would leave, the arrogant sound man said not for another 3-4 hours. I then found out that a Portland city ordinance prohibits them from playing amplified music after 1pm. But they would not leave.

Led by the Ruach, I boldly stood opposite the concert and amplified stage, lifted my Bible and 7 lamp stand golden menorah above me, I climbed atop a stone cylinder and began to preach.

The crowd booed me, hating that my loud voice could actually overcome the amplified speakers.

The woman who led the concert was so upset that my Torah preaching was so loud, that she mocked me by pointing me out and muttering to the crowd.

Instantly, under the anointing of the Ruach -- I cried out, 'You B***H!!! Yah despises you!' I began to pray in tongues and powerfully rebuked her. 

The crowd erupted in chaos and began to throw things at me. Someone ripped my menorah from me and stole it. Another person ripped my Bible and stole it. Another man shoved me off my stone podium but I immediately climbed back up and continued to preach.

Whores, whoremongers, bitches, liars and murderers pressed in close to me, hate in their eyes, and the crowd was turning into a riot.

A police man came out and threatened to throw me in jail. He then asked if I would hold back until he could inquire as to if the concert was supposed to be there. He kept threatening, telling me that if the concert had a permit I would have to leave or be thrown in jail.

I lowered my voice, but continued to preach and the crowd pressed in upon me. I rebuked Muslims for not holding fast the Torah of Moshe and I told them that I AM A REAL MUSLIM. I rebuked Christians for not holding fast to Torah, and told them I AM A REAL CHRISTIAN. I did not see any Jews in my crowd initially.

The police man returned after 15-20 minutes and gave me the thumbs up. The concert then was FORCED to depart. HallaluYAH!!!!