In the late 1960s and early 1970s, Americans encountered an unexpected group of people who, at first sight, seemed unreal: Hasidic hippies. Conceiving of Hasidic Judaism as being incompatible with the spirit of the era and of hippie culture as being far removed from the Jewish tradition, most Jews could not comprehend how anyone could try to amalgamate two such opposing cultures.

Many of the young Hasidic hippies were affiliated with or influenced by the House of Love and Prayer (HLP), a Jewish outreach center that operated in San Francisco between 1967 and 1977 and promoted the mixture of traditional Hasidic Judaism with the counter-culture. It represented a new generation in American religious life: the baby boomers, with their spiritual journeys and cultural preferences, which included attempts to unite religious traditions and cultural trends that just a few years earlier had seemed too different to bridge. The HLP promoted the return to tradition and the embracing of the mystical and supernatural elements of Judaism. Together with other groups that emerged in the late 1960s and 1970s, the HLP helped bring about a revolution in the practicing of the Jewish tradition, one that gave expression to the style and values of the Jewish members of the counterculture.

Sunday, March 21, 1993, was a memorable day for the more than two thousand members of Highland Park Baptist Church (HPBC) in Southfield, Michigan, for it marked the end of the church's fiftieth annual missions conference. The event had gathered people from HPBC and other churches to discuss the many social, economic, and moral issues threatening the vitality of community life in metro-politan Detroit. Following several rousing hymns, including “Raise Up an Army, O God” and “The City Is Alive, O God,” HPBC senior pastor Leonard Crowley ended the historic proceedings by offering an impassioned sermon on the Judaic institution of “Jubilee,” an Old Testament mandate that called for restoration of land and property to original ownership. Crowley had much to say about this antiquated ideal and its personal application to HPBC members, but the most pointed and intriguing elements of his jeremiad concerned the con-gregational body as a whole.

In 1938, Jerome Folkman, a Reform rabbi from Grand Rapids, Michigan, attended a dinner party hosted by one of his congregants. The guests had finished eating and were settling into typical after-dinner chatter, when the audacious “Mr. R.” broke the rhythm and declared, “We should send missionaries to the gentiles and try to win converts to Judaism.” Side conversations halted and the guests, all Jewish, curiously peered at Mr. R. as he continued: “Why aren't we more aggressive? Why don't we ask others to join our ranks?” The guests tittered. Some giggled nervously, others muttered that Jews just don't do that. A pragmatist interrupted—the suggestion, in his mind, was only as good as its actual consequences. “Do you think we would get any converts?” he asked. Rabbi Folkman, who later divulged he, too, had toyed with the idea of Jews becoming missionaries in America, tried to clarify the kernel of wisdom behind Mr. R.'s shocking statement.