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How Can We Love The World?

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How can we heal the world?

When a Jew, wherever she or he goes, carries every other Jew in his or her heart, then all of us are one.

And when we are one, all the peoples of the world can live in harmony as one.

And then the world is healed. For we are the heart of the world.

-Rabbi Tzvi Freeman
“We Can Heal the World”
Based on letters and talks of the Rebbe
Rabbi M. M. Schneerson
Chabad.org

A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

–John 13:34-35 (ESV)

It’s interesting that Rabbi Freeman suggests that Jews can heal the world by loving other Jews. Shouldn’t you heal the world by loving everybody indiscriminately? Isn’t that what Christians are supposed to do, to love everybody?

But what is Jesus saying in his new commandment? Is he telling his disciples (who at that point were all Jewish disciples) to love everybody? No. He’s telling them to love each other. In fact, he says that by every Jewish disciple of the Master loving each other, everyone else will know they are Christ’s disciples. It is a defining characteristic of being a disciple of the Jewish Messiah King both then, and in the present day world.

How odd.

Doesn’t that fly in the face of this parable?

And behold, a lawyer stood up to put him to the test, saying, “Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” He said to him, “What is written in the Law? How do you read it?” And he answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.” And he said to him, “You have answered correctly; do this, and you will live.”

But he, desiring to justify himself, said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he fell among robbers, who stripped him and beat him and departed, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road, and when he saw him he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he journeyed, came to where he was, and when he saw him, he had compassion. He went to him and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he set him on his own animal and brought him to an inn and took care of him. And the next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, ‘Take care of him, and whatever more you spend, I will repay you when I come back.’ Which of these three, do you think, proved to be a neighbor to the man who fell among the robbers?” He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” And Jesus said to him, “You go, and do likewise.” –Luke 10:25-37 (ESV)

Jesus not only defined the two greatest commandments, which are the container for all of the mitzvot, but he “operationalized” them by giving us an illustration. It’s fairly well-known that Jews and Samaritans didn’t get along very well. They still don’t (yes, Samaritans still exist). Nevertheless, this Samaritan went out of his way to help the injured Jew proving, if we take Christ’s parable seriously, that he not only loved God with all of his resources, but that he did love his neighbor as himself.

So how are we to reconcile these two situations as Christians? Do we only love other Christians as Jesus himself defined our role, or are we also, as an expression of our love and devotion to God, to love other people, even people who aren’t like us, even people who don’t like us?

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect. –Matthew 5:43-48 (ESV)

In this case, loving your enemy doesn’t mean giving the soldier of the opposing army a kiss on the cheek during battle. Your “enemy,” in this example, is also your neighbor, your fellow citizen, a member of your community. They’re just someone you don’t like and who doesn’t like you. Well, it’s a little more than that. Your “enemy” can be someone you may have regular contact with but, on some fundamental level, they aren’t part of your “group.” Kind of like Jews and Samaritans or Atheists and Christians. But there’s more.

The New Testament is replete with examples of this type of love and the secular, atheist world (and politically liberal religious people who have adopted those liberal social imperatives) is watching us very closely to see if we are showing that kind of love. More to the point, they are watching us to see when we don’t show that kind of love, so they can call us hypocrites and many other names.

So we are responsible to God for how or if we love, we are responsible to the fellowship of believers who we are commanded to love, and we are responsible to humanity, who we are also to love as we love ourselves.

But what is love?

Generally, it’s not the warm and fuzzy feeling you get in relation to small children, cute kittens, or the really attractive person you’ve just started dating (if you’re single and dating). Love is what you do. The Torah is also replete with examples of how to love people you may not necessarily like. Here’s a brief example.

“You shall not see your brother’s ox or his sheep going astray and ignore them. You shall take them back to your brother. And if he does not live near you and you do not know who he is, you shall bring it home to your house, and it shall stay with you until your brother seeks it. Then you shall restore it to him. And you shall do the same with his donkey or with his garment, or with any lost thing of your brother’s, which he loses and you find; you may not ignore it. You shall not see your brother’s donkey or his ox fallen down by the way and ignore them. You shall help him to lift them up again. –Deuteronomy 22:1-4 (ESV)

The ancient Jewish mitzvot for how to love your Jewish neighbor became the cornerstone of the teachings of Jesus and not only affirmed these Torah commandments to his Jewish disciples, but established them as a way of life for all the non-Jewish disciples who came after them, hundreds and even thousands of years later.

But do we really love by doing? Do we go out of our way to help others?

Probably not as often as we should. The opportunities to fulfill the commandment to love are just endless. You probably come across such opportunities, great and small, everyday. Even holding the door open for someone fulfills this commandment. So does changing a person’s flat tire. So does smiling at someone who looks rather blue.

But while God may judge our love for others in this manner, most of the world doesn’t. Usually, Christian love is judged by how closely we approximate agreement with the various political and social priorities of the prevalent western, progressive society. Most recently, the most important social litmus test for whether or not a Christian truly loves is whether or not we wholeheartedly and unconditionally support “marriage equality” and all of the goals and priorities of the LGBT community.

I hate to bring politics into this, but this sort of thing has permeated the mainstream news media stories and it’s all over the numerous social networking venues. Reduced to its simplest form, for a progressive, a religious person is good if they completely agree with “marriage equality” and evil if they don’t.

Period.

But is that really love? Does being loving absolutely require total agreement with all popular social imperatives of the majority culture?

Do you always agree with those you love? Do you always agree with your spouse, your children, your parents, your closest friends? Do you always totally share every single social or political attitude and opinion with them as if they were your very own?

Probably not. I know I don’t. It doesn’t mean I don’t love them, it just means we have a difference of opinion or perspective on some matter. I love my three-year old grandson with all my heart, but I don’t always agree with him about what he wants to eat, how much television he wants to watch, and whether or not he should cross the street without holding my hand.

That’s not a great example for what I’m trying to say, but you get the idea. You can love someone a lot and still say, “No” to them or disagree with them, even on very important issues.

But what about the rest of the world? Do I love the stranger I walk past on the sidewalk in the way I love my wife? No, I don’t. So do I love the stranger at all? Yes, if they need my love. Unless I fail in the commandment, if they have a need that I can fulfill, I should fulfill it. Can I fulfill the needs of all strangers everywhere? No. I don’t have those kind of resources. So does that make me a failure at love as defined by God? I don’t think so. We should love as we have the ability to do so, not to the point of bankrupting ourselves or behaving irresponsibly.

If I say I love people including gay people, but I don’t wholeheartedly and absolutely support “marriage equality,” am I a failure at love?

I don’t think so, but opinions vary wildly on this point. Does loving someone mean agreeing with them on everything they say, want, feel, and do? If I don’t agree that gay marriage is the will of God because I cannot find it presupposed anywhere in the Bible, does that mean I don’t love a gay person or wouldn’t help him out with a meal, change his tire, open a door for him, smile at him, and otherwise express love toward him as God defines it?

I don’t think so.

But as you discovered at the beginning of this meditation, what love is and how it is expressed can be complicated. God is the source of our love. Before loving other people, we must love God, not just casually and not just abstractly, but with all of our mind, our emotions, our soul, and our resources. Only then are we equipped to love other people, starting with our own faith community but spreading out to the rest of humanity.

Children of GodThe “Good Samaritan” didn’t save all Jews who had been robbed and injured everywhere, he only saved the one he encountered. He may not have agreed with how the Jew defined religion, the various political and social causes he supported, or even the Jew’s attitudes about Samaritans (though those attitudes may have changed after this incident). All the Samaritan did, was take care of the injured man and made sure he was in a safe and secure place with his needs provided for. They didn’t have to be best friends and they didn’t have to share common social or personal opinions.

How can we love the world? We can start by carrying another person in our heart. We don’t have to always agree with each other. Loving other people doesn’t mean becoming a homogenous social mass without distinction. Ultimately, it will mean we all must love God, but obviously, that’s not going to happen anytime soon. However, for those of us who do love God, we can make a greater effort to love each other and to love others who are not like us. It doesn’t mean we have to surrender our moral imperatives as we understand them. It does mean that we must always be ready to change a tire, bind a wound, and take care of anyone who may need it and who we encounter.

Even if they don’t like us. Because in loving those people who say they’re our enemy, someday, we may heal them, and us, and everyone.

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Tisha B’Av: Teaching Yourself to Care

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Rav Chaim Kreiswirth, zt”l, said a similar thing based on a statement on today’s daf. “In Niddah 66 we find that when a woman went to Rav Yochanan requesting help about a problem that was particular to women he suggested that she ask other women to daven for her. On the surface, this seems strange. We know that our sages say that when one has a sick person in his home he should go to a chacham and request that he daven for the sufferer. Yet here we find an exception to the rule. Instead of the chacham alone davening, he sends her to other women to petition that they daven for her. Although the gemara cites that she is like a metzorah who should tell the many to daven for her, it seems odd that he said specifically to tell other women to daven for her.

“We learn an important principle from this story. That the only one who can really pray properly for a person suffering is the one who can truly empathize with the problem. We see that it is better for one who is ill with a certain sickness to request those who have suffered from it to daven for his recovery. Only those who have suffered from the disease truly empathize and their prayers will be more effective than those who have not.”

Daf Yomi Digest
Stories Off the Daf
“True Empathy”
Niddah 66

Is anyone among you suffering? Let him pray. Is anyone cheerful? Let him sing praise. Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer of faith will save the one who is sick, and the Lord will raise him up. And if he has committed sins, he will be forgiven. Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working.

–James 5:13-16 (ESV)

It seems in this case, that James, the brother of the Master, and the later Rabbinic sages agree with each other. We indeed should pray for each other and if ill or suffering, we are directed to request prayer from the righteous. For a religious Jew, that means seeking out a chacham or tzaddik, since the prayer of a holy person “has great power as it is working.”

But is it true that our prayers or more effective when “intoned wholeheartedly,” to quote another part of the “story off the daf?” I believe this is true. Haven’t there been times when you attempted to pray for another only out of duty and not because you really cared? Maybe a person asked you to pray for a situation that you didn’t believe was terribly serious. Maybe you even said you’d pray for them and then completely neglected the matter. How would such lackluster prayers or no prayers at all help anyone?

Yesterday was Tisha B’Av, a day of tremendous grief among the Jewish people; a day that marks many terrible tragedies for the Jews, including the failure of the generation of Israelites who left slavery in Egypt to enter into Eretz Yisrael and take possession of the Land. It is also the date on which the Holy Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed and the Jewish people were sent into exile for nearly 2,000 years.

Our Sages explain that the people, who lived at the time of the Temple’s destruction by the Romans learned Torah, did misvot and performed acts of kindness. Why was the Temple destroyed? Because of sin’ at hinam–baseless hatred. Jealousy and selfishness created differences in people. ”Why does he drive such a nice car and I pray that mine will start every time that I put the key in the ignition?”–”I work so hard and do everything with impeccable honesty, so how come his business is flying and mine can’t show a profit?” Questions like these are at the root of baseless hatred. They doubt the correctness of G-d’s “distribution system”. You might even go so far as to say that they reveal a lack of Faith!

-Rabbi Raymond Beyda
“You Gotta Believe”
Commentary on Torah Portion Devarim
Torah.org

It may surprise many Christians to realize that the destruction of the Temple and the exile of the Jews wasn’t due to a lack of piety or religious observance. The religious practice of the Jews in Israel in those days was above reproach.

But…

But, according to midrash, the sin of baseless hatred of one Jew for another was very great and indicated a lack of faith among the people. How can even impeccable acts of piety and holiness be truly effective if faith is diminished by hatred? How can prayers be effective and invoke a response from God if our trust in Him is small?

And when they came to the crowd, a man came up to him and, kneeling before him, said, “Lord, have mercy on my son, for he is an epileptic and he suffers terribly. For often he falls into the fire, and often into the water. And I brought him to your disciples, and they could not heal him.” And Jesus answered, “O faithless and twisted generation, how long am I to be with you? How long am I to bear with you? –Matthew 17:14-17 (ESV)

I don’t say all this to “bash” the ancient or modern Jewish people but to illustrate that we Christians can suffer from the same lack of faith, devotion, and intension as Jesus is describing. We can all suffer from a lack of empathy for our fellow human being.

But what about empathy and true intension in prayer? According to Rav Chaim Kreiswirth, the person who will offer up the most sincere prayers to God for our suffering is the one who has suffered similarly. A woman who labors under difficulties that are unique to women, according to this principle, should seek out other women to pray for her.

Let’s apply this to the Jews and Tisha B’Av. Although the many horrors that the Jews have suffered was technically observed yesterday, because yesterday was also the Shabbat, the fast was not observed. Today is when religious Jews all over the world will allow themselves to fast, to pray, to grieve over their long history of trials and anguish.

And so it has been for thousands of years –the mazal–luck– of the Jewish people has been bad on that night– the night of Tisha B’Ab. The first and the second Temple were destroyed by gentile armies –on Tisha B’Ab. The city of Bitar was raped and pillaged and hundreds of thousands of our gentle brethren were slaughtered on Tisha B’Ab. The Jews were expelled from Spain and England–on the night of Tisha B’Ab. The terrible history of the destruction of Judaism in Europe at the hands of the Nazis y”s, began with the political upheaval of World War I, which, not coincidentally, began on the night of Tisha B’Ab in 1914.

-Rabbi Beyda

Why do we mourn on Tisha B’av? Why not come to terms with the fact that the Holy Temple is gone, accept G-d’s judgment, and make the best of Jewish life without a Temple? Isn’t it an essential Jewish value that we should accept G-d’s decrees? Well, yes, that is true for all of G-d’s decrees — except the destruction of the Temple. For nearly 2000 years, Jews have sat on the floor, weeping through the stirring descriptions of Jerusalem’s destruction and the tragedies faced throughout their history in exile. Every day they have prayed for a rebuilt Jerusalem. These demonstrate an intense national longing to reunite with G-d’s Presence, in a way that could only be felt in the Temple in Jerusalem. When lovers are separated, their bond is shown in their yearning to return to each other. That thirst to reconnect with G-d is the true essence of Tisha B’av.

-Rabbi Modechai Dixler
“Shabbos Mourning”
ProjectGenesis.org

In my previous commentary on Tisha B’Av, I suggested that Christians should also mourn the loss of the Temple because in a way, it’s our loss, too. The Jews will see the Temple rebuilt only when the Messiah rebuilds it. For a Christian, that means the Temple will be rebuilt upon the return of Jesus Christ (I know many Christians believe what Jesus will build is a “spiritual” Temple and not the physical structure, but I have no problem believing that the Throne of the Messiah will one day exist upon the Temple Mount in Jerusalem).

But upon reflection, I wonder how can we mourn with empathy what we don’t understand? How can Christians or anyone but a Jew, actually “feel” the loss of the Temple, the loss of connection to God that the missing Temple represents? On Tisha B’Av, many, many Jews travel to the Kotel, what some call the “Wailing Wall” in Jerusalem, the last remnant of Herod’s Temple that Jews are allowed to access (since they are forbidden to ascend to the top of the Temple Mount and pray), and pour our their tears, their prayers, and their hearts to God, begging for the coming of the Moshiach and for God’s grace and mercy to rain upon His people Israel.

How can we Christians even begin to understand what Tisha B’Av means? How can we pray for the Jews? How can we mourn along side of them?

I don’t know.

I do know that some Christians do (though not as many as I’d wish). I know some believers have turned their hearts to God and to the Jewish people, they have turned to the east to face Jerusalem…and they have cried bitter tears as they see the grief of the Jews and they have allowed their hearts to melt and bleed.

Today is Sunday, and most Christians will be headed off to church this morning. They will pray in their sanctuaries and in their Bible classes. They will pray in their homes and with their families. I only ask that some of you reading this morning’s meditation allow a double meaning to your prayers and petitions to God as His Holy Spirit calls to you.

I would not have you weep any less for that charming, good and handsome Christian. I only ask this: that as the great cold surrounds my bones, you allow a double meaning for your mourning veil. And when you let fall your tears for him, some few will be… for me.

from the play Cyrano de Bergerac
by Edmond Rostand

The love of Cyrano’s life, the beautiful Roxane, was in love with another, the handsome cadet Christian de Neuvillette. Cyrano, although incredibly accomplished, felt no woman could ever love him because of his ugliness. Toward the end of the play, de Neuvillette has died and Roxane is in mourning. Cyrano asks not that she cease her tears for the “charming, good and handsome Christian,” but only that he might consider that, at his own death, some portion of her sorrow could also be for him.

The irony is at the play’s end, Roxane confesses her love for Cyrano as he is dying in her arms. How many of us, like Cyrano, deny ourselves our heart’s desires believing they are unattainable when in fact, they are at our very fingertips.

Perhaps our sincerity and devotion in prayer is like that. We have only but to look in the right direction, to open ourselves to God and to see the Jewish people with new eyes. Maybe we only need to exchange our heart of stone for one of flesh. And then, as Jews weep and fast and immerse themselves in pools of sorrow, some few of us can shed our tears with them.

Any human being can climb higher than this world. But it’s not a flash from above that will take you there.

Every day, from the time you open your eyes until the time you close them, teach your eyes to see the world as it is seen from above.

-Rabbi Tzvi Freeman
“Practice Makes Perfect”
Based on letters and talks of the Rebbe
Rabbi M. M. Schneerson
Chabad.org

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Tisha B’Av: Longing for Goodness and Righteousness

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Jewish in Jerusalemlast night i decided to take a walk around 1am. on my way back a sweet old lady approached me asking if i knew where a certain hotel was. i must note that since leaving my house i was filled with this expansive sense of love and suddenly the situation struck me as very odd that an elderly woman was roaming the streets looking for a place to stay for the night. i told her i did not know where the hotel was but i knew of a hostel nearby. we walked there but there was no room. then we tried another hotel, long story, it turned out the rooms there were $200/night, more than the woman had. at this point the woman began looking at stairwells and considering just sitting somewhere for the remaining night hours. the situation was heartbraking. i even offered to let her stay in my room on a mattress, but she did not want to impose. at this point we were in the ultra-orthodox jewish neighborhood of jerusalem, and i thought, perhaps someone knows of somewhere she could rest for the night, perhaps in a syngagogue or house of study. without really thinking i told her to wait and ran after one of the ultra-orthodox men walking the streets. i explained the situation and asked if he knew of a place she could rest, he said no..no..i began to give up..then he said…

“Tzedakah miracle in Ir HaKodesh, week of Shabbos Chazon 5772”
Rucho Shel Mashiach blog

I actually posted a link to this blog article on Facebook a few days ago, but I really wanted to write about what it means to me (you can click the link above to read the whole story, but I’m going to finish the quote in just a little bit).

I was thinking about Christian perceptions of Jews and Judaism. At its worst, Christianity thinks of Judaism as a dead, works-based religion that has no spirit or soul, no connection to the living God, and that religious Jews only do good deeds because they’re “under the Law” and out of fear of breaking their commandments.

But then I realized that atheists think about Christianity in pretty much the same way.

I’ve been criticized several times over the past week or so by atheists who say that I need to have the “excuse” of God to do anything good for another person. They ask why I can’t just do good deeds because it’s the right thing to do? After all, that’s what (supposedly) all atheists and progressive humanists do.

My, my, my but how we judge each other. Hopefully the “Tzedakah miracle” story will help change some Christian minds about how Jews see helping other people. I’m not sure what to do about helping atheists see that we Christians can actually do good as well, and how we experience Jesus as a powerful motivator and example of what it is to be charitable.

I was also thinking about Tisha B’Av which begins on Saturday at sundown. It’s the solemn commemoration of the destruction of both Solomon’s and Herod’s Temples, as well as many other tragic events that have occurred in Jewish history. Jews typically fast on this occasion, which is the culmination of a three-week period of mourning, and refrain from various pleasurable activities.

Of course, for Christians and everyone else, it’s just another day.

I sometimes wonder why Christians don’t mourn the destruction of the Temple. I know, that probably sounds silly. Most Christians believe that the Temple was destroyed as a natural result of the coming of Jesus and that now, each individual Christian is a “temple” for the Holy Spirit. The physical becomes “spiritualized” a great deal in Christianity.

But among other things, the rebuilding of the Temple in Holy Jerusalem is part of what the Messiah is supposed to do (see Jeremiah 33:18). Here’s a little bit more about what the Messiah will do when he comes.

The mashiach will bring about the political and spiritual redemption of the Jewish people by bringing us back to Israel and restoring Jerusalem (Isaiah 11:11-12; Jeremiah 23:8; 30:3; Hosea 3:4-5). He will establish a government in Israel that will be the center of all world government, both for Jews and gentiles (Isaiah 2:2-4; 11:10; 42:1). He will rebuild the Temple and re-establish its worship (Jeremiah 33:18). He will restore the religious court system of Israel and establish Jewish law as the law of the land (Jeremiah 33:15).

“Mashiach: The Messiah”
Judaism 101

Although plainly depicted in prophecy, almost all of the information in the quote above isn’t generally known and accepted in the church.

But assuming it is true, then perhaps we Christians should mourn the Temple. Perhaps we should long to see it rebuilt because that would mean the Messiah, the Christ has returned.

But what does this have to do with charity? More than you might think.

Jews long for the coming of the Messiah so that their exile will end and that Israel will be restored to great glory and God will be revered by all of the earth (and just because the modern state of Israel exists today, doesn’t mean the exile has ended yet). Christians want Jesus to come back because he will rule and reign over the earth and everyone will honor Christ and Christianity and know God through him.

Similar goals but radically different applications.

Except for a few things like charity.

Both the Jewish and Christian requirements to do charity are rooted in the same source: the Law of Moses. The Torah of Moses and the Gospels of Jesus both go to great efforts to encourage and support a lifestyle of giving and generosity among their devotees. Although in Christianity, there is no direct connection between doing good and bringing back Jesus, in Judaism, every act of tikkun olam or “repairing the world” is thought, at least by some, to hasten the return of Messiah (the mechanics behind this concept are complex, so I won’t delve into them here).

I don’t know if it’s true or not that doing charity brings the Messiah closer to returning, but it couldn’t hurt.

And it couldn’t hurt to help someone out when they’re in need. Does there have to be a reason or does your reason or mine really matter? After all, regardless of motivation (interesting article, by the way), if you give a hungry person some food, they’ll still be fed.

Interestingly enough though, charity doesn’t always have a straightforward result, as we see in the conclusion of the “Tzedakah miracle” story (and as far as I can tell, this isn’t “just a story,” it’s real life):

without really thinking i told her to wait and ran after one of the ultra-orthodox men walking the streets. i explained the situation and asked if he knew of a place she could rest, he said no..no..i began to give up..then he said, that he has money, if that could help. as if to reject it i said no, the only room is $200, but thank you. he preceded as if i had said $5, pulled $150 out of his wallet and handed it to the woman while quoting from the talmud that the temple was destroyed because of a lack of love between people. together we giddily walked to the luxury hotel, only to find out that there were no rooms available! the man then said to the woman that it is not right to ask for charity back after it has been given, so the money is now hers. we considered several other hotels and the man walked off. as soon as he walked off the woman took my hand and we walked into an alleyway. she was beaming with excitement, she said, i will go to the local hospital and sit there for the night, now i have money for the whole week, i can stay somewhere nice while i find an apartment, maybe even save it for shabbos. in other words, hashem orchestrated a miracle..nothing could have turned out better. when i told a friend about this he said i had met the souls of abraham and sarah roaming the streets of jerusalem. now i know why i felt compelled to take a walk, sometimes we are but vehicles for the miracles that are scheduled to take place..

The old woman never found a very comfortable place to spend the night, but instead of spending all of her new-found “wealth” in a single evening, she now had enough money to live on for a week. True, her situation was not permanently solved, but just think of how many people all across our planet live extremely uncertain lives. Even if we give them charity, we can’t solve all of their problems forever. But then, giving them enough to eat even for one more day makes life better for them.

But what about the Temple? Is there a hidden blessing in its destruction and the long, long wait for the coming of the Jewish Messiah King? I don’t know except perhaps that it gives us time and something to shoot for. It reminds us that the Temple is no longer with us because of lack of love between people (at least according to the Talmud). The world needs a lot of fixing. No doubt about that. It’s probably the one thing we can all agree on, regardless of our politics, our religion (or lack thereof), our social standing, or anything else. The world’s a mess.

Tisha b'Av at the Kotel 2011There are a lot of missing bits and pieces to the world that need to be replaced and repaired. It’s like our existence is a half-built jigsaw puzzle and we’re the puzzle makers. We have to cooperate to make the picture whole. For those of us who believe, Jesus will come and his job will be to do the final “fixing.” For religious Jews, the Messiah will come and do pretty much the same thing. But you and I are here now. People are still hungry and homeless. We can’t solve their problems, but we can make their lives just a little bit better for an hour, or a day, maybe even for a week if God so wills it.

We can grieve and feel sorrow over our losses. We can complain about what’s wrong with the world and complain about the politics and religions of those people who are different from us. Or we can let events like Tisha B’Av remind us that we have lost but we also have something to look forward to. Tisha B’Av also reminds us that we can get over ourselves, get over being cranky, and try to be part of the solution instead of part of the problem.

I said this ago a few days ago, but it bears repeating. “Do good. Seek peace. Keep swimming.” Give life. I don’t care why you do it. Just do it.

May the inherent righteousness and goodness of all our souls be revealed in full and hasten our full redemption, and may we merit to see the third temple speedily in our days, as one people with one heart.

–Rucho Shel Mashiach

Edit: I should note that Tisha B’Av actually starts tonight at sundown, but because it’s also Erev Shabbat, the fast doesn’t begin until after Shabbat has ended. I apologize for the error I made above.

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Standing Insecurely at the Threshold

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Hashem, God, Master of Legions, hear my prayer; listen, O God of Jacob, Selah. Look upon our shield, O God, and gaze at Your anointed one’s face. For one day in Your courtyards is better than a thousand [elsewhere]; I prefer to stand exposed at the threshold of my God’s house than to dwell securely in the tents of wickedness.

–Psalm 84:9-11 (Stone Edition Tanakh)

Almost a year ago, I wrote a “meditation” called A Christian at the Gates of the Temple of God. Not much has changed since I composed that last part of my “meaningful life” series. I always imagine that I’ve progressed in my life of faith more than I really have. Reviewing year old (and even older) blog posts shows me that I’m asking the same questions now that I’ve been asking for a long time.

The classic question is, “Where do I go from here?”

The generic answer is always “forward” but I sometimes wonder if instead of actually moving along the trail, I’m simply standing still, or to use a water-based metaphor, am I just treading water?

If so, then I don’t think I’m alone. I could state the obvious and say that many people in churches and synagogues are probably making no more spiritual progress than I am, but they have plenty of company to do it with, so I guess that means it’s “OK.” When you are a “free agent” or “unaffiliated,” the dynamic feels a bit different. When you’re alone, it gives the impression that lack of progress is somehow tied to lack of fellowship.

I suppose fingers could be wagged at me for the choices that I’ve made, but so be it.

I had coffee with a fellow the other day who reminded me a lot of myself. He too seems to be spinning his wheels in his life of faith. He too is unaffiliated. I realize that there are a number of people I’ve been acquainted with over the years who, for one reason or another, do not attend a congregation or faith group. Many have been “burned” by organized religion or some aspect of it and feel that they are safer when worshiping alone or just with their families.

I realize that a significant portion of this population is classified as “fringe,” “oddball,” or worse, and many of them really are rather “unusual” in their theological conceptualizations.

I don’t think I’m one of that crowd, but I’m sure a lot of Christians and Jews would disagree with me. I don’t think my coffee companion belongs to that group either, but again, when you don’t follow some denomination’s pre-programmed doctrine and dogma, it’s bound to look a little odd to an outside observer.

What spawned this particular “meditation” was my reading of Psalm 84 and particularly verse 11:

I prefer to stand exposed at the threshold of my God’s house than to dwell securely in the tents of wickedness.

According to the psalmist, his options were standing exposed at the threshold of God’s house or dwelling securely in the tents of wickedness. I don’t see my two choices as exactly those, but they come close. In writing A Christian at the Gates of the Temple of God, I envisioned myself at the threshold of the Temple of God; the actual Temple as it stood in Holy Jerusalem thousands of years ago. It might surprise you to hear that I sometimes imagine myself praying silently in the court of the Gentiles, off to one corner, in the back, in the shadows, beseeching Hashem, God of Jacob, “have mercy on an unworthy Gentile.”

OK, I’m a Christian, which means I have a relationship with Hashem under the Messianic covenant, but nothing about that removes the necessity for humility and submission when standing in the House of God. I read verse 11 and the image I just described came rushing back to me, along with my “Christian at the Gates” blog post. Then, I remembered this:

It will happen in the end of days: The mountain of the Temple of Hashem will be firmly established as the head of the mountains, and it will be exalted above the hills, and all the nations will stream to it. Many peoples will go and say, “Come, let us go up to the Mountain of Hashem, to the Temple of the God of Jacob, and He will teach us of His ways and we will walk in His paths.” –Isaiah 2:2-3 (Stone Edition Tanakh)

Actually, I find that vision rather intimidating. It’s one thing to imagine being a first century God-fearer standing alone and isolated in the court of the Gentiles in Herod’s Temple, and another thing entirely to be among a crowd of tens or even hundreds of thousands, making the pilgrimage to Jerusalem, climbing up to the restored Temple, actually anticipating the presence, no matter how distant, of the King of Kings, physically, majestically, in glory, standing before his people.

Who am I to stand in the presence of the Messiah King?

And imagining all that, I feel very small.

Only yesterday, I posted yet another illustration of Jesus as the Jewish King rather than the “warm and fuzzy,” blue-eyed, Christian “goy” Savior. Not that he isn’t the Savior, he just isn’t that cute and cuddly guy of uncertain European lineage (such as the image I’ve provided below) who we often see in the photos and paintings reproduced in some of our Bibles.

I’m writing this on Sunday morning and so it’s easy to picture the hundreds, the thousands, the millions of people, in my own little corner of the world and all over the world, sitting in church pews, listening to the sermon, listening to the “praise and worship team,” getting coffee, eating donuts, going to adult Sunday school, listening to a pre-programmed Bible study, everybody agreeing with everybody else.

OK, I’m being cynical. I’m also remembering my former church experience. Among many other states, it produced a state of security. Everybody (as long as they agreed with the program) belonged. But do I belong there or am I the guy standing at the threshold of some place where he probably doesn’t belong (at least not yet)? Am I the Christian standing exposed at the gates of the Jewish Temple, when I could be dwelling securely in the “tents” of the church?

No, I’m not comparing the church to the “tents of wickedness” but I am drawing a comparison of sorts. I really would rather stand, a mass of insecurity, isolated and alone, trembling with fear at the threshold of the Temple of God than seated comfortably in a pew or a folding chair at my neighborhood Christian church.

I’m not much of an adventurer or risk taker. I like adventure stories, but living out that kind of life would actually scare the daylights out of me.

On the other hand, that’s what I’m doing in my walk of faith, and that’s why I’m scared to death every day that I walk the path. I can’t dwell in the secure and safe and rather boring and unchallenging churches. Many, many true disciples of the Master find God within those walls, in the sermons, in the songs, in the Bible studies. But not me.

But for me, I find him within the Temple in Jerusalem, though it has yet to be restored, and I stand every morning, in the world of my imagination, in the court of the Gentiles, pleading before the God of Abraham, to look upon me and not turn away, invoking the name of my Master as his disciple.

Standing exposed at the threshold. May God grant me the courage to one day take the next step and to enter His House of Prayer.

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Blowing Out a Candle

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They DID NOT choose their religion. They were brain-washed into it. Religion is a matter of geography. Religion is a matter of the family you were born into.

THINK! It is not you who chose your religion, it was chosen for you! It is time to move on, to realize that religion is man made. Become who you are, an individual, an atheist!

From an image posted on Facebook
by Spread Logic and Reason

Disclaimer: This is a rant. This isn’t what I normally post here as a “meditation.” Frankly, I’m getting a little tired of being pushed around by a bunch of folks on the web who think they can take an image, manipulate it with some text, and use it to complain about how bad religion is. Today, I decided to push back.

I first saw this bit of Internet meme “shared” by a Facebook friend and a person I’ve known for many years. He’s a person I hold in high regard but we obviously have different viewpoints on religion. If I had seen this coming from almost anyone else, I would have ignored it, but I consider this person an actual friend, so naturally, it hurts.

Here’s my initial response to seeing this image:

I turn 58 tomorrow. I didn’t become a Christian until I was over 40. I used to be an atheist, primarily because the prevailing culture around me was atheist and it seemed to make sense at the time. Then I started thinking for myself. Why would I let the culture around me choose my religion and my identity for me? Why would I let an Internet meme choose my identity for me?

And what have I ever done to you that you should try to change my identity into what you think would be better for me? I’m not trying to change you.

Then I thought about it some more while doing my lawn, came back over lunch and expanded my answer:

It occurs to me that all cultures and people groups have their various values and customs that are passed on from one generation to another. Most liberal progressives don’t complain about cultural diversity, even if it radically differs from their own, because they recognize that people have the right to observe their native customs and certainly, in the vast majority of cases, liberal progressives and atheists don’t demand that other people groups who are not white, middle-class Americans, change their ways just because they are different than the white, middle-class American atheist’s ways.

Islam and Judaism are closely tied to national, ethnic, cultural, and racial identity. Why isn’t is considered racism, prejudice, and bigotry for you to demand that Jews and Arabs refrain from passing on their values and beliefs to their children? Are you (the general “you”…not naming anyone specifically) more equipped to tell the rest of the world to live your lifestyle? Don’t you pass on your values (atheism, progressive liberalism) to your children?

Why are you trying to control everyone else in the world?

To be fair, between my first comment and my second, my friend said:

Jim, if you had been born in Saudi Arabia and were atheist, assuming you survived to 40, the odds are more likely you would have become Muslim. This isn’t really about an Internet meme, but an historical fact. It exited loooooong before the Internet. 99% of people grow up believing what their parents did. Why did none of the natives in the Americas become Christian for 1500 year. That you decided to for a different belief system than your environment does not alter the facts. You are an exception.

I can see his point, but I think he (and a lot of people like him) are missing something. In making statements and posting photos such as the one I put at the top of this blog post, aren’t atheists trying to say that their viewpoint, lifestyle, and values system is superior to everyone else’s? I know that many religions, particularly Christianity, are accused of exactly the same thing and I know from personal experience (having once been an agnostic leaning toward atheism) that having to listen to a Christian evangelist can be really annoying.

But what about all that “diversity” stuff? If progressive liberalism and atheism supports generally being accepting of racial, cultural and ethnic diversity, then isn’t complaining about how different ethnic, cultural, and racial groups choose to raise their children and pass on their values a type of bigotry? While Christianity isn’t tied to a particular nationality, race, ethnicity, or culture, Islam and Judaism certainly are. How can the comments espoused by this group of people be seen as anything but prejudiced and even racist?

Yes, I’m coming on strong. Yes, today I’ve decided to feed the trolls. But it seems like everyone is supposed to have rights to this, that, and the other thing in this world…except religious people. Not only is this group of atheists guilty of the same acts they say religion commits: exclusivism and rejection of the values and lifestyles of other people groups, but they’re also guilty of what the rest of the world sees Americans as doing: attempting to spread our own values and lifestyle to the rest of the world and using our own cultural lens to judge the right and the wrong of other people, cultures, and nations.

How are these atheists any more morally correct than any religious person?

“Blowing out someone else’s candle does not make your’s burn any brighter.”

-Anonymous

Dear people who don’t like religion,

How does complaining about religious people make the world a better place? What do you gain by “going after” Muslims, Jews, and Christians? Do you plan on taking on Buddhists and Wiccans next? Has the Dalai Lama somehow offended you? If you really want to spend your time and energy being useful and helping others, please step away from the computer and actually do something for another human being. Volunteer at a homeless shelter. Give cans of food to the local food bank. Spend an hour picking up trash in the parking lot of your neighborhood park. Hold the door open at a public building such as the library for a disabled person or a single mother who is trying to manage five children. Heck, just smile at a stranger once in a while because it’s the right thing to do.

Don’t complain about me or people like me, saying we’re the problem. Go out into the world and be the solution. If you do that, the problems will take care of themselves.

Signed, a fellow human being, who has volunteered, donated, picked up trash, held doors open, and who smiles occasionally at strangers.

Thank you.

divinity

The Son of Man – The Son of God

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I was watching in the night visions and behold! with the clouds of heaven one like a man came; he came up to the One of Ancient Days, and they brought him before Him. He was given dominion, honor and kingship, so that all peoples, nations and languages would serve him; his dominion would be an everlasting dominion that would never pass, and his kingship would never be destroyed.

–Daniel 7:13-14 (Stone Edition Tanakh)

And immediately after the distress of those days,
the sun will turn dark,
and the moon will not shine its light;
the stars will fall from heaven,
and the armies of heaven will be shaken.
Then the sign of the son of man will appear in heaven,
and all families of the earth will mourn,
and they will see the son of man coming
with the clouds of heaven in power and great glory.

–Matthew 24:29-30 (DHE Gospels)

The theology of the Gospels, far from being a radical innovation within Israelite religious tradition, is a highly conservative return to the very most ancient moments within that tradition, moments that had been largely suppressed in the meantime – but not entirely. The identification of the rider on the clouds, with the one like a son of man in Daniel provides that name and image of the Son of Man in the Gospels as well. It follows that the ideas about God that we identify as Christian are not innovations but may be deeply connected with some of the most ancient Israelite ideas about God. These ideas at the very least, go back to an entirely plausible (and attested) reading of Daniel 7 and thus to the second century B.C. at the latest. They may even be a whole lot older than that.

-Daniel Boyarin
From Chapter 1: From Son of God to Son of Man
in his book The Jewish Gospels

I previously mentioned when discussing Boyarin’s book, that “I would love to see Boyarin’s research from exclusively Jewish sources that supports his understanding of these different factions of Jews, some of whom held beliefs that so mirrored a Christian’s vision…” In Chapter 1, he provides a compelling connection between the visions of Daniel as the basis how some first century Jews could indeed anticipate God as the “One of Ancient Days” who gave one like the son of man” power and dominion over all the peoples and nations of the earth. I’ve always been concerned about the apparent “disconnect” between the Old Testament and Jewish vision of the Messiah and the New Testament and Christian Jesus. Now I have hope that such a disconnect does not, in fact, exist.

Without providing too many direct quotes from the chapter, Boyarin says it would have been necessary to link the “son of man” vision to the Messiah, since it was not necessarily presupposed that one would be the other. He also effectively describes how “Son of Man” could directly refer to the divine-like being standing before the throne of the Ancient One, while “Son of God” referred to this being’s humanity. Indeed, we’ve already seen in Daniel 7:13-14 how the phrase “son of man” directly applies to the divine-like being in human form who stood before the throne of the Ancient One and was given eternal authority over the earth.

But who is the “Son of God?”

The kings of the earth take their stand and the princes conspire secretly, against Hashem and against His anointed… “I Myself have anointed My King, over Zion, My holy mountain!” I am obliged to proclaim that Hashem said to me, “You are My son, I have begotten you this day.” –Psalm 2:2,6-7 (Stone Edition Tanakh)

The “anointed one” is understood as the Messiah, the Christ. Boyarin explains this passage thus:

The anointed, earthly king of Israel is adopted by God as his son; the son of God is thus the reigning, living king of Israel. “This day I have begotten you” means this day you have been enthroned. Militating against any literal sense in which the king was taken as son of God and divine is the “this day” which, it seems, may only mean on this the day of your accession to the throne.

This is the traditional, modern Jewish understanding of the Messiah, a completely human being who will rise up from the ranks of his people to become King of Israel and by divine appointment (if not by divine nature), King over all the nations of the earth.

But…

But if you put these pieces together, if you join the “Son of God” with the “Son of Man,” you come up with an entirely new being relative to how Jews today understand Messiah; you create an image that is not unlike how Christians see the Christ, the Messiah…Jesus.

You also, according to Boyarin’s argument, come up with an explanation as to how late second Temple Jewish men like Peter, Philip, and Matthew could believe that Jesus was not only the Messiah but indeed, a divine being who is “exalted at the right hand of God.” (Acts 2:33 ESV) In fact, reading the first chapter of Boyarin’s book is so riveting, I found myself asking why the Jewish author of this book isn’t convinced of what he’s actually saying here.

Here’s a clue:

Taking the two-throne vision out of context of Daniel 7 as a whole, we find several crucial elements…

What Boyarin seems to be saying is that, while he does not necessarily believe Jesus is the Messiah or the mysterious “son of man” figure we see in Daniel’s vision (and I’m reading between the lines here), he can fully understand why some Jews in the time of Jesus would totally embrace this belief. He is saying that the conception of the Messiah as divine or divine-like was a completely acceptable understanding to some Jews (but not others, since claims of Christ’s divinity resulted in other Jews trying to stone him).

If all the Jews – or even a substantial number – expected that the Messiah would be divine as well as human, then the belief in Jesus as God is not the point of departure on which some new religion came into being but simply another variant (and not a deviant one) of Judaism. As controversial a statement as this may seem, it must be first be understood in the context of a broader debate about the origins of the divinity of Jesus. The theological idea that Jesus actually was God, however refined by later niceties of trinitarian theology, is referred to as “high Christology,” in opposition to “low Christologies” according to which Jesus was essentially an inspired human being, a prophet or teacher, and not God.

My basic understanding of what Boyarin is saying in this chapter is that while the viewpoint of the nature and identity of Jesus as high Christology is perfectly reasonable within an ancient Jewish context as connected to Daniel 7, it was only one Jewish perspective that existed at the time about Jesus and may well have been, as far as Boyarin is concerned, quite wrong.

However, Boyarin doesn’t go out of his way to express his personal beliefs in this chapter and his beliefs are not the point. The point is whether or not it is reasonable to believe that many, many first century Jews (as many as “tens of thousands” according to Bible Scholar David Bivin) could have seen Jesus as both Messiah King and divine being within the normative Judaism of their day.

I would argue that this divine figure to whom authority has been delegated is a Redeemer king, as the Daniel passage clearly states. Thus he stands ripe for identification with the Davidic Messiah, as he is in the Gospel and also in non-Christian contemporary Jewish literature such as Enoch and Fourth Ezra. The usage of “Son of Man” in the Gospels joins up with the evidence of such usage from these other ancient Jewish texts to lead us to consider this term used in this way (and, more important, the concept of a second divinity implied by it) as the common coin – which I emphasize does not mean universal or uncontested – of Judaism already before Jesus.

Although it is extremely likely that Boyarin isn’t convinced of the Messianic or divine identity of Jesus, the fact that it was an accepted way for first century normative Judaism to view the Christ brings up the obvious question. What if the “Messianic Jews” of the first century were right? What if Jesus was and is the Messiah King and Daniel’s “Son of Man?”

It would mean that not only are the core Christian beliefs about Jesus correct but that they are wholly and completely Jewish in nature and origin, not fabrications of later Gentile Christianity in early church history.

It also could mean, startlingly enough, that there’s a totally and completely Jewish way to understand Jesus that exists apart from the “whitewashed,” “Gentilized,” version we are used to seeing in church, on television, in the movies, in paintings, and in many popular New Testament translations.

One of the reasons I deliberately quoted from the Stone Edition Tanakh and Vine of David’s Delitzsch Hebrew Gospels is to try to peek behind the curtain, so to speak, at this Jewish perception of the Jewish Messiah King.

I know I’ve written about this before, but I think it’s important for both Christians and Jews to have a better understanding of Jesus and his once and future role as Savior and King and to try to grasp the realization that not only is Jesus completely Jewish, both as he once lived among men and as he will return in glory, but that accepting him as such, is not an “unJewish” thing to do.

According to Boyarin, such an acceptance of Jesus as Messiah King was in fact, a completely Jewish thing to do in the first century.

The unique quality of Mashiach is that he will be humble. Though he will be the ultimate in greatness, for he will teach Torah to the Patriarchs and to Moshe Rabeinu (alav hashalom), still he will be the ultimate in humility and self-nullification, for he will also teach simple folk.

“Today’s Day”
Monday, Menachem Av 1, Rosh Chodesh, 5703
Compiled by the Lubavitcher RebbeTranslated by Yitschak Meir Kagan
Chabad.org

What if it’s equally acceptable for a Jew to accept Jesus as Messiah in the 21st century?