All posts by James Pyles

James Pyles is a published Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror author as well as the Technical Writer for a large, diversified business in the Northwest. He currently has over 30 short stories published in various anthologies and periodicals and has just sold his first novella. He won the 2021 Helicon Short Story Award for his science fiction tale "The Three Billion Year Love" which appears in the Tuscany Bay Press Planetary Anthology "Mars."
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Will a Soul Cry Out Against You?

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On today’s amud we see that one should have pleasure on Shabbos. A close student once invited Rav Yisrael Salanter, zt”l, join him leil Shabbos.

“I never go to anyone for Shabbos until I find out their custom during the meal I shall be attending,” answered Rav Yisrael Salanter.

This student very proudly recounted that his table was filled with both physical and spiritual oneg shabbos of the very best kind. “We only procure our meats b’tachlis ha’hidur. The cook in our house is a G-dfearing woman, the widow of a renowned talmid chacham. Our table is resplendent with the best foods, yet we are very careful to sing and say an abundance of Torah between each course. We even have a regular seder in Shulchan Aruch. Understandably, our table ends only very late into the night.”

Rav Yisrael accepted his student’s invitation, but with a surprising condition. “I will come, but only if you cut two hours off the meal.”

The student complied with his mentor’s strange request and the meal from start to finish took slightly under an hour. At the very end, right when they were preparing to wash mayim achronim, the student could not contain his curiosity, “Please teach me what is wrong with my regular meal that the Rav would not come until I cut it to such an extent.”

Instead of replying, Rav Yisrael merely asked that the cook be brought the table. When the modest woman arrived, Rav Yisrael apologized to her. “Please forgive me for rushing you this evening since on my account you were forced to serve course after course with no break between them.”

“Hashem should bless the Rav with all the brochos!” replied the gratified widow. “I only wish that he came to us every Friday night. My boss usually has a very lengthy meal, and after a hard day working on my feet in the kitchen, I am so weak that I can hardly stand. But, thanks to the Rav, I can get some much needed rest.”

Rav Yisrael turned his student and said, “In this poor widow’s reply you have an answer to your question. It is true that the way you set up your table is very meritorious…but only if your tzidkus isn’t attained at the expense of another!”

from Mishna Berura Yomi Digest
Stories to Share
“Oneg Shabbos”
Shabbos, June 2, 12 Sivan
Siman 167 Seif 16-20

This lesson needs virtually no commentary and its meaning should be plain, so I have very little to add. In many religious traditions including Christianity and Judaism, there is a tendency to want to impress others with our level of sanctity and holiness. Nevermind that the Bible speaks against such personal arrogance, it is human nature to want to look good in front of others, especially others who hold a higher social rank or who we otherwise feel are our superiors. That’s what we see here in our “story to share.” We also see an example of people who should know better, trying to convince “the masses” of their holiness.

Then Jesus said to the crowds and to his disciples, “The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat, so do and observe whatever they tell you, but not the works they do. For they preach, but do not practice. They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to move them with their finger. They do all their deeds to be seen by others. For they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long, and they love the place of honor at feasts and the best seats in the synagogues and greetings in the marketplaces and being called rabbi by others. –Matthew 23:1-7 (ESV)

This verse is usually cited by Christians to pound on Jewish tradition including the modern halachah of Jews wearing tallitot and tefillin, but I don’t believe that was the Master’s intent. He had no problem with that the Pharisses taught (see verse 3 above), only the bad motivations for their behavior. In our story from the beginning of this blog post, the student didn’t necessarily have bad motivations for demonstrating such a high level of observance, but he was careless. He put form before substance. He attained his tzidkus at the expense of another.

Ultimately, everything we do, we do for the sake of Heaven, but as human beings, it is extremely easy to mess up our priorities. This isn’t something you only find in Judaism, it’s also equally likely to happen in Christianity. That’s because I’m describing a trait of the all too frail human heart. On some level, we all desire to do what is right, but our personalities get in the way. It’s even worse when, like the student in our example above, we don’t even realize it. Heaven forbid it should be pointed out to us in such a public way and in front of the person we have been inadvertantly victimizing.

All I’m asking of anyone reading this is that you stop and look in a mirror. Who are you and what are you doing? Could you be serving God better? Could you be serving other people better? Have you, even without realizing it, been exploiting, injuring, or insulting someone else while believing you’re doing good for God? If the answer to any of the last three questions is “yes,” then what do you need to change?

Final question: is it worse to be a hypocrite and know you’re screwing up, or to be clueless about how you’re hurting others?

You shall not mistreat any widow or fatherless child. If you do mistreat them, and they cry out to me, I will surely hear their cry, and my wrath will burn… –Exodus 22:22-24 (ESV)

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Asking the Right Questions: A Brief Review of Messiah Journal 110

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Gateway to Eden“A river went out from Eden to water the garden.”

There is Eden, and there is the garden.

Eden is a place of delight, far beyond the garden, beyond all created things. Yet its river nurtures all that grows in that garden.

The garden is wisdom, understanding, knowing—where all of creation begins.

Adam is placed in the garden, to work with his mind, and to discover the transcendent Eden flowing within.

The objective of all man’s toil in this world is to work to reach beyond his own mind, higher than mind at all. Not to a place where the mind is ignored, but rather, to its essence, to the inner sense of beauty and wonder that guides it. To Eden.

-Rabbi Tzvi Freeman
“The River from Eden”
Based on letters and talks of the Rebbe
Rabbi M. M. Schneerson
Chabad.org

I get tired.

Yes, I know. We all get tired, but I don’t mean just that. For the past several days, my “meditations” have been anything but peaceful, reflective missives. They’ve been firestorms of controversy which have inspired debates on hotly contested subjects, such as the nature of Christian obligation to Judaism and whether or not the Jews will ever be “saved.”

I’m reminded that at the end of all things, “they shall sit every man under his vine and under his fig tree, and no one shall make them afraid, for the mouth of the Lord of hosts has spoken” (Micah 4:4).

I’m kind of looking forward to that.

I’ve been reading over the latest issue (110) of Messiah Journal (MJ) published by First Fruits of Zion (FFOZ). Normally, I select a few articles from any given issue and review them one at a time. This issue hit me differently.

It’s probably because I was at FFOZ’s recent Shavuot conference which was hosted at Beth Immanuel Sabbath Fellowship in Hudson, Wisconsin. As I was reading a number of the various articles in the magazine, I was reminded of similar content that was presented in different teachings at the conference.

For instance, Aaron Eby’s article “Exile and Redemption in Genesis” seems to be closely related to a number of things I heard Boaz Michael discuss and which I chronicled in Redeeming the Heart of Israel, Part 1 and Part 2. Aaron references the article he wrote for MJ issue 109 called “The Writing on the Wall” in which he discussed the sins that traditional Judaism believes contributed to the destruction of the Second Temple. He alludes to the idea that Christ’s teachings may have specifically been targeting the sins in Israel that resulted in the Temple’s destruction and the exile of the Jewish people, but “Exile and Redemption in Genesis” doesn’t actually go that far. This is obviously a “part 2” of a larger series and I suspect that Aaron will revisit Yeshua’s teachings in the next edition of MJ which will come out in late August or early September. Too bad, because I’d like to see this concept fleshed out a little more right now, particularly with related scriptural verses.

Toby Janicki wrote an article for MJ 110 called Rebbe Nachman on The Suffering Tzaddik.” He tells us that the concept of the death of a tzaddik (righteous one) being able to bring atonement for others, goes back to D. Thomas Lancaster’s article “Suffering Tzaddik” which came out in MJ 107. Toby focuses on the specific experiences and stories related to Rebbe Nachman as they apply to the wider Jewish concept and of course, as they apply to our own great tzaddik, Moshiach Yeshua, and how his death atoned for the sins, not just of his generation, but of all humanity.

(Last September, I wrote my own humble missive on this topic called The Death of the Tzaddik, but my limited research couldn’t possibly be compared to the scholarship of Lancaster or Janicki. Still, you might want to give it a read.)

At the end of reading Toby’s article, I wrote myself a note that said:

Can any of these writings reach Christians who will rely solely on the Bible for evidence?

I was thinking of an email I’d received from a very kind and knowledgable gentleman that morning in response to my “meditation” A Few Thoughts on a General Soul. In part, he wrote:

As you know, the “general soul” business is found in Chassidic thought. It is an extravagant claim and cries out for asmachta (scriptural support). You offer none because, IMHO, there is none to be found.

That certainly strikes home and as fond as I am of the midrashim and Chassidic writings, it is very unlikely that they can be mapped directly back to specific scriptures in the Bible. Near the climax of his article, Toby even says:

So what, if anything, can Rebbe Nachman’s teachings on tikkun and the Master of the Field teach us about the Gospels? It’s important before we answer that question that we realize that the Master and Rebbe Nachman were separated by almost 1,800 years. Much in Judaism changed during those years, and theologies that did not yet exist in the first century had had centuries to develop. Rebbe Nachman based much of his teachings on texts and ideas that were completely foreign to Yeshua.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m completely delighted with this issue of MJ and the scholarly papers presented within, but given recent experiences, I was also reminded of the limitations of said-information, particularly when presented to a crowd of  traditional Christians. It’s like facing an audience of “Joe Fridays” from the old TV show Dragnet (1951-59) with Sgt. Friday interviewing a witness and insisting, “The facts, Ma’am. Just the facts.” In the case of a Christian audience, the phrase might be something like, “The Scriptures, Jim. Just the Scriptures.”

My perspective on my faith allows me to include extra-Biblical sources into my database and I don’t believe you can wholly separate the Judaism of Jesus, Peter, and Paul, from the subsequent Judaisms that have developed across the centuries between the time of Christ and now. That sort of goes along with something else Toby wrote about in his article:

With that said, as my colleague D. Thomas Lancaster likes to point out, “even the work of a Chasidic teacher from a century ago is closer to the world of Yeshua and the disciples than church literature of the second century CE.”

I suppose I’m going to be criticized for including that quote, too.

Russ Resnik in his Messiah Journal article “‘Shema’ Living the Great Commandment: Part 2: ‘Listen’ – The First Imperative” said in part:

Note Yeshua’s emphasis again on hearing, which leads to understanding and bearing fruit. To obey the second line of the Shema and love HaShem wholeheartedly, we must obey the first line and truly “hear.”

The response I wrote in a note to myself says:

And yet, despite the fact that we all want to hear and to obey, what many of us hear seems radically different from all of the others in the body of faith in Messiah, as the comments section of my different blog posts can attest.

Conversations can get very passionate and even unfriendly at times, and yet as we push each other around in the virtual world of the religious blogosphere, we are all striving to achieve essentially the same goal: to uphold and honor God. It’s just that our understanding of what that’s supposed to mean differs greatly from one person to the next and one tradition to the next, and we are all convinced that our tradition is the best and must be defended against all others.

At the Shavuot conference, Boaz mentioned to me that groups often define themselves by their opposition to other groups and that can’t be more clearly illustrated than on the Internet. Even as I’m writing this blog post on Tuesday night, the comments in my blog are continuing to accrue and some part of me isn’t looking forward to reading them. It’s one thing to inspire spirited debate and another thing entirely to be nearly branded “public enemy number one” because I make statements that disagree with someone else’s theology and philosophy.

But in all of these arguments on topics which I really love exploring, I must admit that a number of the points I’ve addressed lately need to be researched much more thoroughly and to be examined through the lens of scripture, before we hitch our wagon to them and start driving them down the road.

On the other hand, if reading articles written by Russ Resnik, Aaron Eby, and Toby Janicki can inspire this much of a response in me, imagine what they might inspire in you. Faith isn’t just about having the answers, it’s about knowing how to ask the right questions. Joe Friday wanted answers that were facts. Another fictional police officer was rewarded for how he asked questions.

Dr. Alfred Lanning: “Good to see you again, son.”

Detective Del Spooner: “Hello, doctor.”

Dr. Alfred Lanning: “Everything that follows is a result of what you see here.”

Detective Del Spooner: “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Dr. Alfred Lanning: “I’m sorry. My responses are limited. You must ask the right questions.”

Detective Del Spooner: “Why did you call me?”

Dr. Alfred Lanning: “I trust your judgement.”

Detective Del Spooner: “Normally, these circumstances wouldn’t require a homicide detective.”

Dr. Alfred Lanning: “But then our interactions have never been entirely normal. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Detective Del Spooner: “You got that right… Is there something you want to say to me?”

Dr. Alfred Lanning: “I’m sorry. My responses are limited. You must ask the right questions.”

Detective Del Spooner: “Why would you kill yourself?”

Dr. Alfred Lanning: “That, detective, is the right question. Program terminated.”

from I, Robot (2004)

Understanding God and the mystery He’s presented us with in the Bible is not just a matter of having the right answers, but of asking the right questions. These can be questions as startling as, “Why would you kill yourself?” We can’t afraid…I can’t be afraid to raise startling questions or to broach sensitive topics of discussion. As tiring as it can be to continually respond to my critics, I have to keep asking those questions.

The questions are bread crumbs. This is where they’re supposed to lead to someday.

Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. No longer will there be anything accursed, but the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and his servants will worship him. They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. And night will be no more. They will need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever. –Revelation 22:1-5 (ESV)

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Messiah Journal: Excerpt from “Origins of Supersessionism in the Church, Part 2”

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Before I launch into the second part of my series on supersessionism in the church, I want to make a point of saying that I am not hanging the full weight of replacement theology of all Christian churches everywhere. I know, especially from my comments in Part 1, that it appears as if Christianity has much to answer for in its treatment of the Jews across history, but I haven’t forgotten that the church has also done an enormous amount of good in the world as the representatives of the Messiah for nearly 2,000 years. The specific scholars and theologians I’ve selected who represent supersessionism don’t represent all of Christianity. I’m not writing this series to drive a wedge between Christians and Jews (and since I’m a Christian, I have no motivation to do so), but to point out a legacy that we have inherited from our fathers and that we need to search out and continue to correct. To any Christian who feels I have treated them unfairly in my previous article, I apologize. Unfortunately, I have to point out some uncomfortable facts, so that we can recognize them for what they are. Once we’ve done that, we can move forward as disciples of the Master and stand side-by-side with our Jewish brothers in the faith before the throne of God.

-from the introduction to
“Origins of Supersessionism in the Church, Part 2”
by James Pyles
Messiah Journal, issue 110, pg 13

I sometimes “accuse” First Fruits of Zion (FFOZ) of “stealth marketing.” Issue 110 of Messiah Journal (MJ) was on display last week at FFOZ’s product table at the Shavuot conference I attended. Several other attendees told me they had already received the current issue in the mail before the conference. By the time I got home after the conference, my copy had arrived in the mail. But on FFOZ’s most recent issues web page for MJ, Issue 109 is listed as the current issue.

I love the people at FFOZ a lot but…Oy.

As you may recall, Part 1 of my Supersessionism series covered the historical origins of supersessionism from Biblical times to the present or at least the “near-past.” Part 2 covers the theological underpinnings of supersessionism in the church as it applies to three critical areas:

  1. Salvation
  2. Eschatology
  3. Religious Festivals

I know that there’s a lot more I could have written about, but when I was discussing how best to approach this part of the series with Boaz Michael, he suggested that these three areas were the most important. Also, I have a word count limit to observe, so I have to zero in on the most informative areas of each article’s main topic.

Salvation, relative to supersessionism, addresses the mechanism by which Jews must be saved. Christianity not only requires that a Jew come to faith in the Jewish Messiah, but that he or she completely give up any Jewish lifestyle or religious observance as a condition of that salvation.

Eschatology involves what most people think of as “the end times” (cue scary thunder and lightning noises, please). First of all, will Jews even be there and second of all, what will be their role? Who are the “144,000 sealed from every tribe of the sons of Israel?” (Revelation 7:4 ESV). Many Christians aren’t convinced they are literally members of the twelve tribes but some spiritual representation of Israel held by (Gentile) Christians.

Religious Festivals has to do with what Jews celebrate vs. what the church celebrates. Why was Easter created as a Christian observance and were Christians actually barred from any observance of Passover by the early church? Were all Jewish festivals considered invalid for Christians and how does that affect church celebrations today?

How conscious are these ideas in the church today? Do people actually think about the role (or lack thereof) of Jews in their relationship with God and in terms of these three topic areas, or are these wholly assumed and therefore beneath the lived Christian awareness?

To find out the answers to these questions and more, contact First Fruits of Zion and ask to purchase a copy of issue 110 of Messiah Journal.

Oh, and by the by, I’ll be reviewing other selected articles from this same issue, so you’ll get an inside glimpse of what writers such as Russ Resnik, Aaron Eby, and Toby Janicki have to say about a number of interesting and even critical subjects in the realm of Messianic Judaism.

Stay tuned.

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A Few Thoughts on a General Soul

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Hasidism teaches that while not all are able to attain the highest levels of elevated spirituality, the masses can attach themselves to the Tzadik, or truly righteous one, (in Hebrew: התקשרות לצדיקים) whereby even those of lesser achievement will reap the same spiritual and material benefits. By being in the Tzadik’s presence one could achieve dveikut through that of the Tzadik. The Tzadik also serves as the intercessor between those attached to him and God, and acts as the channel through which Divine bounty is passed. To the early Rabbinic opponents of Hasidism, its distinctive doctrine of the Tzadik appeared to place an intermediary before Judaism’s direct connection with God. They saw the Hasidic enthusiasm of telling semi-prophetic or miraculous stories of its leaders as excessive. In Hasidic thought, based on earlier Kabbalistic ideas of collective souls, the Tzaddik is a general soul in which the followers are included. The Tzaddik is described as an “Intermidiary who connects” with God, rather than the heretical notion of an “Intermidiary who separates”. To the followers, the Tzaddik is not an object of prayer, as he attains his level only by being completely bittul (nullified) to God. The Hasidic followers have the custom of handing pidyon requests for blessing to the Tzaddik, or visiting the Ohel graves of earlier leaders.

from the article “Hasidic philosophy”
Wikipedia.org

I can hardly tell you how the above-quoted paragraph seems to describe how I understand the Messiah.

OK, I know that Wikipedia has less than a stellar reputation as a direct resource, but given that Chasidic and Kabbalistic philosophy can be enormously difficult to comprehend (at least to me), I selected what I thought was the most accessible information source. But why am I posting a quote about bonding with a Chasidic tzadik at all? What possible relevance can it have to a Christian, even one who is trying to view his faith through a traditional Jewish lens?

Last week, as I’ve mentioned numerous times, I attended the First Fruits of Zion (FFOZ) 2012 Shavuot conference at the Beth Immanuel Sabbath Fellowship in Hudson, Wisconsin. Among the various teachers and speakers at this event was FFOZ author and staff member Aaron Eby. He said something about the Messiah during one of his presentations that I just had to write down. This probably isn’t word-for-word, but hopefully, it’s close.

Messiah has a general soul and he cannot separate his soul from the soul of Israel.

I’m not sure if the other stuff I have written down on this little piece of paper I’m looking at was said by Aaron or just my interpretation and expansion on what he said, but here it is.

When a Gentile takes hold of the tzitzit of a Jew, he is taking hold of Messiah. He is taking hold of the tzitzit of a Jew and being led to the Temple Mount. Find God in the Jewish people.

I’m obviously referencing Zechariah 8:23 in my notes, but let’s take a look at the verse in it’s context.

“Thus says the Lord of hosts: Peoples shall yet come, even the inhabitants of many cities. The inhabitants of one city shall go to another, saying, ‘Let us go at once to entreat the favor of the Lord and to seek the Lord of hosts; I myself am going.’ Many peoples and strong nations shall come to seek the Lord of hosts in Jerusalem and to entreat the favor of the Lord. Thus says the Lord of hosts: In those days ten men from the nations of every tongue shall take hold of the robe of a Jew, saying, ‘Let us go with you, for we have heard that God is with you.’” –Zechariah 8:20-23 (ESV)

These events occur in the Messianic age, so thus far, ten men of the nations haven’t taken a hold of the tzitzit of a Jew in the manner described by the prophet. However, we know that this will happen and we know we Christians should get used to the idea that it should happen, and that it is all part of God’s plan for the Jews and for us.

A few weeks ago, I wrote on another meditation something that caused quite a stir:

This is another reason why we Christians, and indeed, the entire world, owes the Jews a debt that can never be repaid. It is their King who will finally come and bring peace for everyone, not just the nation of Israel, but the nations of the earth.

The “push back” I received about those words was that we owe God the Father and Jesus Christ such a debt, not the Jewish people. The idea is that Christians should not glorify a people group but instead, glorify God. As far as that statement goes, I agree wholeheartedly. Our worship and devotion belongs only to the God of Israel. Jesus Christ came and even said that God sent him to the lost sheep of Israel. And we know from the very often quoted John 3:16 and many other scriptures that the scope of the Messianic covenant extends far beyond Israel and indeed, to the entire world.

ShavuotBut what was that thing about a “general soul?”

When Aaron made that statement, I immediately thought of the different ways I tried to explain why we Christians do owe a debt to the Jews. In the best way I knew how, I tried to show that the Messiah as an individual, cannot be separated from his people the Jews. In essense, Messiah is Israel and is their firstborn son. Now I have another way of thinking about Messiah as having a general soul that is inseparably joined to the soul of all his people. But maybe, if we can take a different look at Zechariah 8, the door swings both ways, so to speak. We in church, when we “take hold” of Christ, are also taking hold of Israel and the Jews. But we can also “take hold,” as the prophet said, of a Jew, and by doing so, be joined to Israel and her Messiah.

I want to be very careful here and explain that I’m not talking about substituting Judaism in the place of the Messiah. So many Gentiles in the Messianic Jewish movement have fallen into this trap and abandoned Jesus altogether, choosing instead to convert to a traditional Judaism. This is not what I’m suggesting at all. What I’m saying is that we cannot separate the Messiah from Judaism. Perhaps I’m also saying that we cannot separate Judaism from Messiah. I’m not particularly scholarly in these areas, so I don’t have the means to evaluate the mystical implications of all of this, but if nothing else, I see the Messiah and his general soul as a way for us to continually realize that we cannot say we love Jesus Christ and throw the Jews, Judaism, and national Israel under a bus at the same time.

If we accept Christ as Messiah and Lord, we accept all of him, just as he is and always will be. Totally joined to Israel and to every Jew who has ever existed.

So be careful what you say and how you treat the next Jewish person you meet. You never know if someday it may be his tzitzit you will be clinging to as you cling to the soul of the Messiah.

Since the Divine activating force responsible for the existence of created things must continuously be present within them, they are completely nullified in their source. This means, as the Alter Rebbe explained in the previous chapter, that in reality they do not “exist”.

Why, then, do we nevertheless perceive created beings as enjoying a tangible “existence”? — Only because we are unable to see or comprehend the Divine utterance that is contained within each created thing and that calls it into being.

The Alter Rebbe illustrated this by considering the sun’s rays. When they are not within their source, the sun, but diffused throughout the expanse of the universe, they are perceived as having independent existence. However, when they are contained within the sun-globe they clearly have no such “existence” at all.

From “Today’s Tanya Lesson” (Listen online)
Shaar Hayichud Vehaemunah, beginning of Chapter 4
Sivan 12, 5772 · June 2, 2012
Chabad.org

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A Christian Seeking Messiah ben David

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Everyone agrees with all the wonderful advice and ethics written in the books of the sages. Everyone agrees that this is the way to run your life. The only issue each one of us has is whether those words are truly meant for me, or for someone else in some other time and place.

-Rabbi Tzvi Freeman
“For You”
Based on letters and talks of the Rebbe
Rabbi M. M. Schneerson
Chabad.org

In some strange way, these few sentences capture the struggle we encounter at the intersection of Christianity and Judaism. I know that many Christians and Jews don’t believe their two worlds intersect at all, but in spite of 2,000 years of “discomfort” between us, we just can’t seem to get away from each other.

The other day, on my commute home from work, I saw a car with a bumper sticker that said, “Judeo-Christian.” I wish I could have talked to the driver to find out what they were thinking when they put that on their car.

Let me explain.

Judeo-Christian is a term traditionally used to describe a specific set of ethical or moral values often associated with American historical and cultural beliefs. It artificially forces a connection between Christianity and Judaism that most Jews don’t appreciate. Christianity doesn’t mind so much because of the knowledge that we wouldn’t exist as a faith without Judaism, at least the ancient Judaism that ended (from the church’s point of view) with the destruction of the Second Temple.

When pushed, Jews and Christians will admit to sharing some common values and goals, such as feeding the hungry and and visiting the sick, but the foundations of how Judaism and Christianity view God, the world, and just about everything else are fundamentally and radically different from each other. In some sense, it’s amazing that Christians and Jews can have a meaningful conversation at all, at least on the topic of God (I’m sure there’d be no problem discussing the World Series or something like that).

As many of you know, I’ve recently been trying to describe the linked relationship between Christianity and Judaism as part of Israel’s national redemption. It’s slow going because the idea that God would actually intertwine the destinies of the Gentile church and the inheritors of Sinai is foreign to the two groups. Even within the realm of Messianic Judaism, which should be a friendly environment for both, the idea that Christ can only come back if Christians support and embrace Jewish return to Torah has met with significant resistence (Read Redeeming the Heart of Israel, Part 1 and Part 2, as well as Disconnect Reconnect Disconnect if you don’t believe me).

Paul in Romans 11 explains that it was necessary for there to be a separation between the Gentile believers and the Jews for the sake of the nations. But after so very long existing apart from each other, overcoming the walls we’ve built between us is no easy task.

So how do we live together while maintaining our separate identities? How do two people who are married maintain their own lives and wills and uniqueness?

I don’t know, except to say that who we are is built into us. No matter how much you may love your spouse, that love doesn’t erode your personality so you stop being you and start being them.

Something does happen, though. You learn to set aside some of your personal desires and preferences and to act for the benefit of your beloved husband or wife because you want to do good for them.

Our Master did no less for us.

I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. He who is a hired hand and not a shepherd, who does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and flees, and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. He flees because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep. I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for the sheep. And I have other sheep that are not of this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd. For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life that I may take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again. This charge I have received from my Father.” –John 10:11-18 (ESV)

The difference between him and us is that Jesus is our Master and we are his disciples and servants. We are not greater than the one who sent us. But with our spouse, neither husband nor wife is elevated over the other.

For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. And if you are Christ’s, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to promise. –Galatians 3:27-29 (ESV)

But I’ve been wrong before.

It shall come to pass in the latter days
that the mountain of the house of the Lord
shall be established as the highest of the mountains,
and it shall be lifted up above the hills;
and peoples shall flow to it,
and many nations shall come, and say:
“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,
to the house of the God of Jacob,
that he may teach us his ways
and that we may walk in his paths.”
For out of Zion shall go forth the law,
and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. –Micah 4:1-2 (ESV)

I was having coffee after work the other day with a friend and we were discussing this whole matter. We realized as we were talking that, after 2,000 years of ascendency; after 2,000 years of being the sole owners and arbiters of salvation through Jesus Christ, the Christian church might not want to acknowledge that “the mountain of the house of the Lord shall be established as the highest of the mountains.” They might not want to repeat the words of the Master when he said (John 4:22) “salvation is from the Jews.”

In other words, we Christians might not want to face the fact that when the Jewish King returns, he will restore Israel to its rightful place at the head of the nations, he will establish forever the full redemption of his Jewish people, and it is we from among the nations who will “flow” up to Jerusalem and the Temple Mount to honor the King of the Jews and to worship the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

Rather than the church expecting it to be the other way around. Rather than the Jews “flowing up” to Christianity and abandoning Judaism, the Torah, and ultimately, the Jewish Messiah King.

Kind of humbling for we Christians, isn’t it?

I cheated a bit when I quoted Rabbi Freeman earlier. Here’s the full text of what he said:

Everyone agrees with all the wonderful advice and ethics written in the books of the sages. Everyone agrees that this is the way to run your life. The only issue each one of us has is whether those words are truly meant for me, or for someone else in some other time and place.

If it is truth, it is meant for you, now, here.

There is a truth about our existence in this world that we aren’t always aware of. Maybe we’ve never been aware of it, but it rests inside of us, like a cocoon which appears dormant or even lifeless, and yet contains the beginnings of what will become a spectacular butterfly.

Like a new life being nurtured in a mother’s womb, the will of God for each of us is embedded within our souls, waiting for the right moment to begin to stir. I believe that’s what is happening now in Christianity and Judaism. I believe this is part of what the Master called in Matthew 24:8 “the birth pangs” (please don’t overanalyze that metaphor and say he was really talking about wars and earthquakes…I think he was also talking about what I’m talking about).

Any woman who has ever given birth can tell you that it is a wonderful, and terrifying, and ecstatic, and agonizing experience. So too are the birth pangs we are approaching as Christianity and Judaism, divided for so many centuries, approaches an intersection that God saw and destined before He built the foundations of the Universe.

Our Lord, our Master, our Messiah is coming, but we all play a vital part in summoning his presence. We in the church must encourage the Jewish return to Torah and national redemption of Israel. Israel must be that light to the nations, drawing us all to God. Then the Moshiach will come, the Jewish King will ascend his throne, and the Temple of God will be called a house of prayer for all the nations.

For the children of Israel shall dwell many days without king or prince, without sacrifice or pillar, without ephod or household gods. Afterward the children of Israel shall return and seek the Lord their God, and David their king, and they shall come in fear to the Lord and to his goodness in the latter days. –Hosea 3:4-5 (ESV)

Blessed be the nation of Israel and may she return her heart to God and the Torah, that she may be redeemed and restored. And may the Messiah come soon and in our day.

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Toby’s Story and Mine

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I promise. I’m running out of Shavuot conference stories. It won’t be long now until I’m tapped out. Be patient.

I mentioned in my recent review of Toby Janicki’s book God-Fearers: Gentiles and the God of Israel that I was just a tad disappointed that he didn’t describe anything about his personal journey in transitioning away from One Law. I kind of expected that he would have included some of those details, because he told a lot of his personal story at the conference last week.

I promised to share one of those stories with you (I have Toby’s permission to do so). I don’t think I’ll be able to tell it as well as Toby did. Certainly, I’ve forgotten a lot of the little details by now. In fact, since I’m telling all of this from memory, doubtless my story will contain just a ton of errors. Hopefully, I’ll still be able to get the main point across. Then I’ll tell you a story of my own.

But Toby’s story first.

Toby talked about visiting what sounds like some sort of upscale food store in the Denver area several years ago. He was wearing a talit katan under his shirt with the four tzitzit extending out into public view. He apparently was very satisfied with the tzitzit being the correct halakhic length and with the proper blue for the techelet threads. His observance of the mitzvot of the tzitzit was just flawless.

As Toby was approaching the check out line, he heard a man’s voice from behind him, “Excuse me.”

Toby paused and turned as the man continued to speak.

“Are you Jewish?”

At this point in Toby’s story, I can imagine him freezing momentarily in a sort of “deer in the headlights” pose.

Toby said, “No.” This prompted the other fellow, who was Jewish, to ask Toby a number of questions. Why would someone who wasn’t Jewish wear tzitzit, and particularly pay such fine attention to the relevant halachah? Toby most likely answered each of this Jewish person’s questions and I don’t doubt it would have been a fascinating conversation to watch and hear. I somehow believe that the Jewish gentleman never quite understood the whole concept of “One Law” and why anyone who wasn’t Jewish would desire such an experience. On the other hand, he may full well have understood the implications of people who were not Jewish entering into behaviors that, on the surface, made them seem as if they were.

It’s what I would call an epiphany event for Toby. The light bulb went off over his head. He realized something that had never occurred to him before on a very fundamental level.

That’s the best I can do about Toby’s story but before getting to my own, I want to share another one I heard at the conference.

A non-Jewish fellow at the conference described how he once went into a church, not his home church by any means, wearing a kippah and carrying a talit gadol over his arm. He elicited a lot of questions from the other Christians there, particularly, “Are you Jewish?” Of course, the answer had to be no, but the fellow in question felt that dressing as he did would be a witness to the Christians and allow him to speak about the Jewishness of Jesus. Perhaps in that one church it did, but what does it say when someone who is not Jewish dresses in a manner that seems to say he is a Jew? Toby’s encounter was accidental. This other gentlemen deliberately presented a confusing message about his identity.

What are we really saying to the Jews and Christians around us when we create the impression that we are someone we really aren’t?

Praying with tefillinNow to my story. It’s not a single event, but I’ll pretend it is so this blog post won’t go on too long.

Like most people who live in a suburban home, my house’s master bedroom has a walk-in closet. It used to be my habit to pray in that closet in the mornings. I would take my siddur with me and reciting the proper blessings, don my talit and lay tefillin (I want to thank my friend Baruch Hopkins for teaching me the proper manner of laying tefillin, particularly since being left handed, my technique must be different from most other people). My Hebrew is terrible (as many people at the conference I recently attended can attest), but I prayed from my heart and my humble devotion to God. I believed that, imperfect though my prayers were, imperfect though my Hebrew was, and imperfect as my performance of the relevant halachah was, I was doing my best. I hoped God would understand.

And I didn’t want my Jewish wife to walk in on me during my prayers. I tried to time everything so she’d either be asleep or already gone to work when I’d pray. I know it may sound silly to you, but I had a couple of important reasons.

The first was that I wanted to be able to completely focus on my prayers. I didn’t want to be interrupted or to have to worry about being interrupted during prayer. I wanted and needed to have a private time when I could connect to God.

The second reason was that I was embarrassed. It wasn’t just that I have no command of Hebrew and that I don’t really know how to don a talit, although that’s embarassing, too. It’s that she’s Jewish and I’m not. Although she wasn’t raised in a Jewish home and for many years, did not have a lived cultural and religious experience, she has overcome many barriers and worked extremely hard to connect and integrate with the Jewish community. She has finally become a member of our local Jewish community and her habits, viewpoint, and even thought processes have become increasingly Jewish.

I certainly can’t say the same thing for me, and yet there I was, wearing a kippah, wearing tzitzit, binding tefillin on my arm and on my forehead, and trying to pray in bad Hebrew from a siddur.

When Toby was telling his story and how he felt when he was speaking with a Jewish man about why a Gentile Christian should be dressing like a Jew, I wondered if he felt even half as uncomfortable as I did when I just imagined how my wife pictured me. Toby’s encounter was with a stranger he probably never saw again. I had the same encounter but with my wife who I see all the time.

Toby’s encounter was probably only one of the steps he took on his journey which resulted in him re-evaluating his One Law beliefs. My “quasi-Jewish prayer life” was only one of the steps in my journey. But they’re both examples of our realizing that there is some part of the One Law assumption that just doesn’t “feel” right. When we put it into practice outside of our cloistered little groups, we have experiences that help us realize, however unintentionally, that we are putting on a mask when we wear tzitzit in public. As Gentiles, we are telling the world that we are a person who we really aren’t. Regardless of our intent, we are saying we’re Jewish when we know we’re not.

One SoulAnd when we do that, what do we do to the Jewish people around us? That’s a question I had to ask myself. What was I telling my wife about her Jewishness when I behaved in a manner that is unmistakably Jewish? What was I saying about how I viewed her unique choseness by the God of her fathers? Was I cheapening that specialness by adopting Jewish prayer behaviors? My prayers were in private. No strangers could have been offended. But if I don’t choose to respect my own Jewish wife and instead, I insist I have a right to wear tzitzit and tefillin, what commandments am I “obeying”…and which ones have I just shattered?

Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh. –Genesis 2:24 (ESV)

I’ve probably made a mess of Toby’s story and want to apologize to him and to everyone else for getting most of it wrong. However, I can tell you that I got my own story “spot on.” I’m not telling anyone out there what to do. I can only tell you why I stopped doing many things I still cherish and put away my tallit and tefillin. The siddur still sits on my night stand, but often it is abandoned. I still talk to God, but I’ve removed the “Jewish” elements.

When I was at the Shavuot conference, I arrived early on Friday morning. As I sat in the sanctuary, I heard the faint sound of praying from the direction of the library. I followed the sound and discovered that a number of men had met in an upper room for shacharit prayers. The Hebrew was beautiful, but it wasn’t just the language. Although Hebrew will always be a challenge for me and most likely beyond my grasp, these prayers speak to my heart in a way no other type of prayer can. I really miss it. I can’t explain why, but I really do.

In fiction, a story has a beginning, a middle, and an end. In real life, the story continues as long as we can draw a breath. My heart is still beating and my lungs still take in air, so my story is still moving forward. I still have no idea how it will end.

The only thing I can do is keep writing my story one blog post at a time and see what happens next.