What does being “contaminated by death,” and a traveling on a “distant road” have to do with us?
These terms point to deeper concepts. A state of disconnection from God is a type of death. A distant road is place where we are far away from who we really are supposed to be. This is something most of us can identify with.
-Kareb Wolfers Rapaport
“Pesach Sheni: The Holiday of Second Chances” Aish.com
Second chances.
Any person of faith who believes Hashem grants us only two chances in life is sadly delusional. As far as my life goes, I can’t count the number of “chances” God has given me (and is still giving me) to pull my head out of that hole in the ground and get back into the game.
I don’t know about you, but I sometimes find it disheartening to blog in the religious space, particularly in the realm Messianic Judaism and Hebrew Roots.
While I’ve been told repeatedly that my blog speaks for a certain number of people out there, people like me, non-Jews who have discovered that a particularly Jewish interpretation of the scriptures, of the New Covenant, of God’s intent for not only Israel but the rest of humanity, of the meaning and purpose of Messiah, is the best and most accurate way to understand all of that and who we are because of it, what I write doesn’t speak for a much, much larger segment of both Christianity and Judaism.
I’ve received criticisms and complaints, both on my blog and via email, from mainstream religious Jews, from Messianic Jews, from Messianic Gentiles, from mainstream Christians, and just about anyone and everyone who identifies with what we call Hebrew Roots.
Some of these folks are Internet trolls, but many of them are good, kind, well-meaning people who I’ve managed to inadvertently offend in one way or another.
I’ve stopped going to church, in part, because what I believe and who I am is fundamentally incompatible with traditional Christian theology and doctrine (and not being one who tends to keep his mouth shut when asked for an opinion, I became quite a pain in the neck).
I don’t deliberately stick my nose into online and actual mainstream Jewish venues, already knowing what they would think of someone like me (apart from quoting sources such as Aish).
I have increasingly separated myself from a number of Messianic Jewish organizations for similar reasons.
Only God is silent about what I write. I suspect He’s waiting for me to make up my mind about what I’m supposed to be doing.
So you see, I believe that if people were only given two chances, me included, the vast majority of us would already be toast.
According to Karen Wolfers Rapaport’s article:
Pesach Sheni, the holiday of second chances, reminds us that we can always change our steps and return home.
The question for someone like me is where exactly is “home,” at least in the material sense?
Of course Pesach Sheni has little or nothing to do with me since I’m not Jewish. In any event, its applicability in the current Jewish world is stifled by the absence of the Temple and the Priesthood.
The holiday only tangentially speaks to the non-Jewish world that God offers such “second chances” to us, too, and it begs the question, what do I do with the chance I hold in my hands now? What are you going to do with yours?
This is the sequel to my previous science fiction short story The Robot Who Loved God. It’s about the same length as my previous tale and hopefully will successfully expand upon the concepts I introduced in the first story. In “The Robot Who Loved,” the prototype robot George was deactivated at the end of a week’s worth of tests. During that week, George was accidentally introduced to the concept of God, particularly the God of Israel, the God of his creator, Professor Noah Abramson.
Although George was considered a failed experiment by National Robotics Corporation CEO Richard Underwood who did not allow Abramson to reactivate him, a critical problem has been discovered that cannot be solved by human beings. Will George be able to find a solution to the problem of how to re-create a working Positronic brain when the finest human scientific minds cannot, and how will George’s apprehension of God affect the project?
Here’s a brief excerpt from the short story. I hope you’ll enjoy it enough to click the link at the bottom and read the whole thing.
Margie Vuong, as usual, was the first member of the Positronics team to enter the lab, today just after 4 a.m. She found George is his alcove in sleep mode, which she didn’t expect. Abramson had permitted the robot to forego “sleep” in order to work on the mystery of the non-reproducible Positronics brain, so she thought she’d find him still at it.
Most people thought Vuong was an insomniac, but ever since she was an undergrad, she found she needed relatively little sleep, and she enjoyed the quiet of the early morning hours when almost everyone else was still in bed. It left her alone with her thoughts which usually was the company she most enjoyed.
However last night, even when Margie wanted to sleep, she couldn’t. So she stayed awake and caught up on personal emails, read some recently published technical articles, and for several hours, binge watched the reboot of Firefly…entertaining, but not as good as the original.
This morning, Vuong regretted never having developed the taste any caffeinated beverages. Her ex-husband had tried to get her interested in his hobby of drinking coffee from beans he had roasted himself, but she didn’t find the smell or taste palatable.
Vuong had logged into her terminal and was checking emails when George spoke: “Good morning, Dr. Vuong. I hope you slept well.” The robot could monitor her vitals better than a Fitbit and knew damn well she barely slept at all.
Resisting the urge to snap back at the machine with some snarky remark, Vuong instead replied, “Good morning, George.”
“Dr. Vuong, I would like to ask a favor of you.” What favor could she possibly do for a robot and was it something she was willing to do?
“Since Professor Abramson has asked that there be no digital footprint of our investigation, I cannot send out a group-wide email or text informing the team of the conclusion to my investigation. When the team arrives, can you arrange for a meeting in the conference room with all senior members?” Each team lead had a small staff of technicians at their disposal, and it was clear George didn’t find their presence required to hear his announcement.
“Wait! What?” Had George actually solved the problem? Did he know why she and the Professor couldn’t create another working Positronic brain?
“I believe 9 a.m. should be an appropriate time for such a meeting, since Dr. Miller, the most tardy member of the group, typically arrives no later than 8:30.”
“Uh, sure George. Um…you really solved the problem of duplicating a Positronic brain?”
“I would prefer to announce my findings to the whole team, Dr. Vuong.”
“Care to give me a hint?” The one night when she let Abramson convince her to go home rather than stay late at the lab was the night when George found out where she and Noah had gone wrong. She wanted to hate George for that, but she wanted the answer even more.
“I don’t believe I know how to ‘hint,’ Dr. Vuong.”
In a moment of resentment, Margie counted all of the different ways she could insert an invasive program into a Positronic matrix. No, this wasn’t George being deliberately obstructive. The robot was just being transparent with the team as he was instructed to do. No withholding information from some team members and only revealing it to others.
It didn’t occur to Vuong that George was withholding a great deal of information from the team. It just had nothing to do with Positronic brains.
I wrote this blog post over two years ago when I was still attending a church. In fact, it was the last year I attended church. Yom HaShoah isn’t the reason I quit, but re-reading this reminded me that even a “Pro-Israel” and “Pro-Jewish people” church can still have a lot to learn.
This year, Yom HaShoah or Holocaust Remembrance Day begins tonight at sundown and extends for the next 24 hours. Don’t forget. Don’t let your children forget. According to this article, “in 2013, a survey of more than 53,000 respondents in 101 countries found that only 54 percent of the world’s adults had even heard of the Holocaust — and of those, one-third believe it is either a myth or has been greatly exaggerated.”
The world is already forgetting or at least disbelieving. That’s why we have to keep the memory alive. We’re moving dangerously close to repeating the sins of the past.
Passover this year was not a festival of freedom for Alisa Flatow of West Orange, New Jersey. The Brandies junior was rendered brain dead by a piece of shrapnel on April 9, when a Palestinian suicide bomber drove his van of explosives into a busload of Israelis near Kfar Darom in the Gaza Strip.
This world is known as the “World of Rectification” (The Works of Kabbalah).
I wonder what the ancient Kabbalists would say about the modern world. Our everyday life certainly does not appear to be a “world of rectification.”
To rectify means to repair or correct an existing defect. This practice has become almost extinct. Years ago, things that went wrong were repaired; today, they are simply replaced. Replacing an item is cheaper than going to the trouble of having it repaired. When we add the vast numbers of disposable items that have become commonplace, we have a life-style where “rectifying,” at least of objects that we use are concerned, is a rather infrequent phenomenon.
Unfortunately, this attitude of replacing items rather than trying to repair them has extended itself from object relationships to people relationships. The most dramatic evidence is the unprecedented number of divorces. In the past, a couple that developed problems would try to repair the relationship. Most often, the attempt succeeded. Today, people do not want to waste time and effort; rather, they simply terminate the relationship and replace it with a new one. Human beings, much like styrofoam cups and contact lenses, have become “disposable.”
We would do well to make at least our interpersonal relationships comply with the Kabbalistic concept of “World of Rectification.”
Today I shall…
try to appreciate the unique character of an interpersonal relationship and make every effort to preserve it.
-Rabbi Abraham J. Twerski
from “Growing Each Day” for Nisan 18 Aish.com
Image: Hearst Newspapers
I know, I know. Kabbalah turns off a lot of people. Heck, even Talmud turns off a lot of people, generally Christians, and sometimes more specifically people who believe they can observe the mitzvot as written in the Torah without any interpretation by the Jewish sages.
Be that as it may (and setting aside any objections to Jewish mysticism for the moment), I think there’s an important lesson in the message above. Our modern western culture is one that values objects that are disposable rather than renewable or repairable.
We have disposable diapers, disposable cameras, disposable batteries, and so on. Consumer products are made with something called, “planned obsolescence,” that is, instead of making a car or a refrigerator that will last as long as possible and be repairable when broken, products are made to wear out within a certain span of months or years, and then the consumer has to buy a new one.
That gets expensive.
Heck, this has even approached the planetary level if you believe Stephen Hawking when he says the human race must colonize space to survive.
There are all kinds of people and groups, from Mars One (which some folks think is a fraud) to Elon Musk that are actively planning manned missions to the Red Planet with colonization as the ultimate goal.
I guess that means we get to burn out and use up the planet we currently live on. Just throw it away. Planets are disposable as long as we have other planets to colonize.
I seriously doubt we’ll get that far at least in my lifetime.
Image: Space.com
Are people disposable?
Depends on who you ask. If you bring the abortion debate into the conversation, then pro-abortion folks believe that unborn children are disposable.
What about those of us who have already been born?
Rabbi Twerski, who I quoted above, mentioned that marriages are becoming more disposable all the time.
Yes, in some cases, I can see the need for a couple to divorce, in cases of infidelity or abuse, but I suspect, just like abortions, people become disposable simply because they become inconvenient. Problems are a nuisance to be avoided, not challenges to be overcome.
Again, I realize not all difficulties have a simple solution that preserves relationships, but too many people never even try.
There’s a concept in Judaism called Tikkun Olam which more or less translates as “Repair the World”.
The idea is that our world and everything (and everyone) in it are ultimately “fixable” rather than disposable.
Tikkun Olam can be applied to just about everything from environmentalism to marriage counseling. If something is valuable (and certainly our world is valuable), then we must become good stewards of what we have, taking care of it, maintaining it, protecting it, and when broken or damaged, repairing it.
Where to start?
How about with you?
Emily Cyborg by Skidtography
I don’t mean “you” as a particular person such as “you have a problem,” but I mean “you” as in all of us, each individual. No one is perfect, and certainly some people are more “broken” than others. In order to be able to repair a broken world and the damaged people in it, we must first do that for ourselves?
What stops us from doing that?
Are you happy with who you are? Wish you could change, but don’t know how? Wondering how does one make real changes?
The formula is straightforward:
Recognize that there is need for improvement.
Make a decision to improve.
Make a plan.
Follow through on the plan.
What holds us back? We think we can’t change. Rabbi Noah Weinberg, of blessed memory, the founder of Aish HaTorah, would ask his students, “If God would help you, could you do it?” The answer is obviously “Yes.” Then he’d ask, “Do you think the Almighty wants you to change, to improve?” The answer again is obviously “Yes”. So, why is it so difficult to change? It’s too painful. One doesn’t want to take the pain of change. Only through taking the pain and realizing that time is limited will we change.
-Rabbi Kalman Packouz
“Shabbat Shalom Weekly” for the Seventh Day of Passover Aish.com
Well, that sounds like a showstopper. No one likes pain. Remember, we make disposable things (and people) because we don’t like to go through the effort of repairing and maintaining things (and people).
But how can you be “disposable” to yourself?
Gee, that’s a tough one.
On another one of my blogs, I wrote about Everyone’s Hard Battle, which in this case means, the battle of depression and suicidal ideation. Interestingly enough, I also quoted from Rabbi Twerski in that wee essay.
Maybe that’s the answer. No, exercise as a means of stress release and discipline isn’t the answer for everyone, but finding something you’re passionate about is. Find something that drives you, something that’s hard but also irresistible. You might have to choose something you’re only lukewarm about and over time, make it a habit. That’s sort of how my workouts at the gym evolved.
For many religious Jews, it’s studying Torah. For some Christians, it’s studying the Bible. It’s examining the Word of the Almighty, not just by reading your Bible periodically, but by consulting knowledgable resources, praying, and actively meditating over what you are learning, integrating that process into your life and every possible manner.
Making drawing closer to God your passion.
Of course, there are plenty of other ways to repair yourself and thus begin to repair the world. No one can tell you your passion, you have to find it (or make it) for yourself.
God created our world and the people in it, and through human disobedience to Him, we broke the world and the people in it. But God made sure the world and the people are “fixable”. Someday, He will send Messiah who is the “ultimate fixer,” the King who will repair our world, but that doesn’t mean we have to leave it all to him.
It is said in Judaism that each act of Tikkun Olam performed brings the coming of Messiah one step closer. That means we are active participants in not only bringing our Rav and our King back to our world, but active participants in our own “repair work”. We are partners with the Almighty in the most awesome and ambitious construction (or re-construction) project ever conceived.
The only thing slowing progress down to a crawl is us. If we see ourselves as helpless victims, we go nowhere. If we see ourselves as empowered by God, as partners with God working to improve ourselves and improve the world, then we should have the motivation to overcome inertia, realize our brokenness can be repaired, decide to do something about it, plan on how to do something about it, and then actually do something about it.
We don’t have to do it alone. The all-powerful, all-seeing, all-knowing unfailing, creative, One God is our partner. So let’s get to work.
Taking a glass half-full approach to the extraordinary saga of the “rabbi” who duped a Polish community for years about his Orthodox credentials, but who turned out to have been a Catholic ex-cook, Poland’s chief rabbi noted endearingly Thursday that nobody in Poland would have pretended to be a Jewish religious leader just a few decades ago.
The deception achieved by Ciechanow-born Jacek Niszczota — who passed himself off as Israel-born Rabbi Jacoob Ben Nistell to the satisfaction of the Poznan Jewish community that utilized his volunteer services — is indicative of a growing interest within Poland in its once-large Jewish community, which was almost completely destroyed in the Holocaust, Chief Rabbi Michael Schudrich said.
“Who, 30 years ago in this country, would have pretended to be a rabbi, to say nothing of 70 years ago?” Schudrich asked.
Schudrich added that he had met Niszczota/Nistell a few times, and always found him to be “very sweet and smiley.” Still, he stressed, it was not good that the man misrepresented himself…
-from “Poland’s chief rabbi finds comfort in saga of Catholic impostor who fooled community” The Times of Israel
I actually lifted this quote from the Rosh Pina Project (RPP) which was quoting from the “Times,” and as far as I understand it, RPP meant the reference to be a criticism of Messianic Judaism, or at least those portions of the movement (perhaps One Law/Hebrew Roots) that allow non-Jews to function as “Rabbis”.
But I saw something different here. Just as Chief Rabbi Michael Schudrich suggested, why would a non-Jew, a Catholic, pretend to be a Rabbi?
The article doesn’t describe Niszczota’s motivation, but I wonder if it’s the same one that, to a much lesser degree, attracts Christians out of their churches and into the Noahide, Messianic Jewish, or One Law/Hebrew Roots movements?
There seems to be something about Judaism that a significant subset of Christians find more attractive than their own faith.
As far as many Noahides are concerned, the disconnect between how the Church interprets the Old and New Testaments results in their rejection of Christianity and Jesus Christ altogether, and pulls them into an Orthodox Jewish understanding of the role of Gentiles in a world created by God.
To one degree or another, Messianic Gentiles and One Law Gentiles “split the difference,” so to speak, and find a way to integrate the Old Testament (Tanakh) and New Testament (Apostolic Scriptures) within a more “Judaic” framework. The type and degree of Jewish praxis varies quite a bit among these populations, since there’s no one external standard defining who we are and what we’re supposed to do within any sort of “Jewish” community space.
However, I did find another opinion, or rather a link to that opinion, that was posted in a closed Facebook group for Messianic Gentiles:
With children, at least someone was already obligated to foster their growth in Torah and observance. R. Auerbach now extends this idea to non-Jews. Beyond specific Noahide laws, he assumes all non-Jews are obligated to accept the fact that the world was created for the Jewish people [he does not explain further: I think he might have meant only that the Jewish people set the tone for the world, not that we’re the central purpose of existence. To me, that’s the implication of his following comments].
Recognizing Jews’ role in Hashem’s world means recognizing that Torah scholars, and especially a consensus of Torah scholars, are our best way of knowing what Hashem wants us to do. That’s as true for non-Jews as for Jews, so that a decree by Torah scholars should sound to them as if they’ve been told the Will of Hashem.
Technical questions of lo tasur as a Biblical obligation aside, non-Jews have to listen to the Torah leaders of the Jewish people for this reason [that might be only when there’s a formal body of Torah scholars, debating and voting on their decisions]. Such powers should extend to confiscating money and making decrees, as it does for Jews. Although in the non-Jews’ case, they’d be listening out of their own awareness that they are required to, not (again) a formal halachic obligation.
-R. Gidon Rothstein
“Children and Non-Jews’ Personal Obligations” TorahMusings.com
Granted, this is a minority viewpoint within Orthodox Judaism, but it does exist. It also presupposes Gentile recognition of Rabbinic authority, which must be something of a rarity. I can’t imagine in my wildest fantasies, for example, the Head Pastor of the little Baptist church I used to attend going along with any of the above.
And yet, whether you’re a Noahide or Messianic Gentile in Jewish community, to one degree or another, you are accepting Jewish Rabbinic authority (One Law Gentiles, not so much).
For the Noahide, it’s a foregone conclusion that whether in the synagogue or their own communities of non-Jews, they must accept Rabbinic authority because it is the only thing that defines them.
For Messianic Gentiles, it’s a lot more “messy”. First of all, there is no one definition of what it is to be a “Messianic Gentile” among Messianic (or other) Jews. Secondly, a lot of us don’t live anywhere near a Messianic Jewish community (at least an authentic one), so we lack an actual Jewish lived context in which to operate. Finally, depending on who you are and how you understand what “Messianic Judaism” means, your acceptance or rejection of various areas of Jewish authority and Rabbinic legal rulings will flex quite a bit.
There is one final thing to consider. In the Messianic Age, when King Messiah is on his throne in Jerusalem, and the peoples of the world live in nations that are all servants of Israel, we will indeed be under Jewish authority. I don’t know what that will look like relative to Orthodox Judaism, but my guess is that said-Jewish authority will look more Jewish than most Gentiles would be comfortable with, especially more traditional Christians.
Something to consider as Pesach (Passover) approaches.
Dayeinu is one of the highlights of Seder experience. The tune is catchy but the words and theme are frankly bizarre. Had you taken us from Egypt but not split the sea, dayeinu, it would have been enough. Really?
If you had taken us to Mount Sinai but not given us the Torah, dayeinu, it would have been enough. Really? Don’t we talk about how the Torah is the air that we breathe, indispensable to our lives and to our very existence? Had He given us the Torah but not brought us into Israel it would have been enough. Really? Wasn’t Israel created before the world because it, the Jewish people and Torah and the three pillars upon which the world is built?
-Rabbi Efrem Goldberg
“It Would Have Been Enough, Really?” Aish.com
I have to admit, as many times as I’ve recited or sung Dayeinu, I’ve never considered the idea if stopping short of completing all the miracles Hashem did for the Children of Israel in the Exodus would indeed have been sufficient. What if God liberated Israel from Egypt but had not split the sea? That would have been a disaster.
As Rabbi Goldberg says, for religious Jews, the Torah is the very air they breathe, and the Land of Israel was promised to the Jewish people long before they were enslaved in Egypt. How could these things not come to pass as God declared they would? How can we imagine the Jewish people without the Torah or Israel?
But what about the rest of us?
I know what you’re thinking, some of you anyway. You’re thinking about the Mixed Multitude, that ragtag group of non-Israelites who accompanied the Children of Israel out of Egypt because they saw Hashem’s miracles and believed, or at least they thought this guy Moses could give them a “get out of slavery free” card, too.
You’re thinking that these Gentiles stood with Israel at Sinai and received the Torah along with God’s special and chosen people, and thus, what was done for Israel was done for Gentiles as well.
Well, yes and no.
The “Mixed Multitude” link I posted a few paragraphs above goes into it in more detail, but these Gentiles, or rather their descendants after the third generation, were fully assimilated and intermarried into Israel and the tribes, so all traces of their Gentile lineage was lost.
That practice isn’t available to non-Jews who want to join themselves to Israel today. The best we can do is either become Noahides or convert to Judaism. For those of us to call ourselves “Messianic Gentiles” or Talmidei Yeshua, a third option is to specifically accept a highly specialized understanding of the revelation of Yeshua (Jesus) as Moshiach (Messiah or “Christ”) while taking upon ourselves a lesser set of obligations than the Jewish people, and while standing alongside Israel and embracing her central role in Hashem’s plan for ultimate, worldwide redemption in the Messianic Kingdom.
Which brings me back to Dayeinu. What if God had given us the blessings of Messiah but not given us the Torah…Dayeinu…it would be sufficient.
But God did allow us, through His magnificent grace and the mercy of Messiah, to benefit from some of the blessings of the New Covenant promises but not the full obligation to the Torah mitzvot? Is that really sufficient?
Depends on your point of view.
Back in the days when I was attending a little, local Baptist church, more than once in Sunday school, I heard the teacher thankfully remark how grateful he was to not be “under the Law” and enslaved to all those spiritless rituals and practices.
Actually, he said he was grateful to “no longer be under the Law”. I’ve always wondered what Christians mean by that, since Gentiles are not born into a covenant relationship with God, and particularly not under the Sinai covenant, thus, we were never, ever “under the Law” to begin with.
I tried to argue the other side of the coin, so to speak, relative to the Jewish people, but this was a Sunday school class in a Baptist church in Idaho, so I certainly wasn’t going to convince anyone that the Torah could be “the very air Jews breathe, indispensable to their lives and to their very existence.”
There’s a reason I don’t go to church anymore.
I had considered using the “Dayeinu” message to explain that even though we non-Jews were not given the Torah as such, it would be sufficient, but then, I encountered a problem in Rabbi Goldberg’s article:
Rabbi Nachman Cohen in his Historical Haggada offers a fantastic insight. If you look at the Torah and in Psalms, chapter 106 in particular, you will notice that every stanza of dayeinu corresponds with an incredibly gracious act God did for us and our absolute ungrateful response.
Explains Rabbi Nachman Cohen, dayeinu is our reflecting on our history and repairing the lack of gratitude we exhibited in the past. Seder night we look back on our national history, we review our story and we identify those moments, those gifts from God that we failed to say thank you for. We rectify and repair our ingratitude and thanklessness through the years by saying dayeinu now. In truth, dayeinu, each of these things was enough to be exceedingly grateful for.
R. Goldberg uses examples such God taking the Israelites out of Egypt and them not being grateful (Deut. 1:27) and God feeding them with manna and them not being grateful (Numbers 11:1-6). Dayeinu then, as R. Goldberg explained above, is the Jewish effort to repair the historic lack of gratitude of the Israelites to God’s miracles during the Exodus. It’s a lesson to every Jewish child at the Passover seder to learn gratitude for all that God has done, does, and will do for Israel.
So how can I use Dayeinu as an example of it being sufficient for we Gentiles to have the blessings of the New Covenant (without being named covenant members) and not receiving the Torah or the Land of Israel along with the Jews?
I do it by turning things around. I do it by pointing out our own ingratitude. A small but vocal group of non-Jews do not accept that only the Jewish people are Israel, and that only the Jewish people have it placed upon themselves as named members of just about every covenant God has ever made with human beings, the full obligation and blessings of the Torah mitzvot. They not only desire but demand full inclusion into Israel, and full obligation to the mitzvot, effectively becoming Jewish converts without a bris.
I should point out that many normative Christians, who couldn’t care less about the Torah, still believe that when Jesus returns, the Church will inherit the Land of Israel and all of the covenant promises God made with the Jewish people. The Jews however, unless they convert to (Gentile) Christianity, not so much. That’s also a lack of gratitude and humility.
And He began speaking a parable to the invited guests when He noticed how they had been picking out the places of honor at the table, saying to them, “When you are invited by someone to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor, for someone more distinguished than you may have been invited by him, and he who invited you both will come and say to you, ‘Give your place to this man,’ and then in disgrace you proceed to occupy the last place. But when you are invited, go and recline at the last place, so that when the one who has invited you comes, he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher’; then you will have honor in the sight of all who are at the table with you. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.”
–Luke 14:7-11 (NASB)
It is better to take the seat for the least honored and then perhaps be given more honors, than to assume you have the greatest honor and to be publicly “demoted” and thus humiliated by your “host,” that is, Messiah.
In this case, us not being Jews, and not being Israel, it really is better to say “Dayeinu,” believe that what we have is truly sufficient, and if God wants to give us more, He’ll give us more. He’ll give, but we don’t presume to just take.
Ben Zoma says, “Who is rich? He who is happy with his lot.”
-Talmud — Pirkei Avot 4:1
It is a terrible thing to turn up your nose at the blessings and mercy of God and to demand more. We’ve seen the consequences to the Children of Israel in the Torah when they were ungrateful. If they are the natural branches of the root and could still be removed for lack of trust, how much easier is it for God to remove the ungrateful grafted in branches?
My family will be having our own wee home seder this coming Friday. While my Jewish family will be singing Dayeinu in the spirit of learning gratitude as R. Goldberg describes it, I’ll be learning to be grateful in a very different way, by accepting that what God has done for me, a non-Jew, a non-covenant member, is indeed not just sufficient, but abundant.
Dayeinu!
"When you awake in the morning, learn something to inspire you and mediate upon it, then plunge forward full of light with which to illuminate the darkness." -Rabbi Tzvi Freeman
Morning Meditations 