Tag Archives: Christianity

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Finding My Metaphor

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Ten times a day repeat these dynamic words, “If God be for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31) (Stop reading and repeat them NOW slowly and confidently.)

Ten times each day, practice the following affirmation, repeating it out loud if possible. “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” (Philippians 4:13) Repeat those words NOW. That magic statement is the most powerful antidote on earth to inferiority thoughts.

Put yourself in God’s hands. To do that simply state, “I am in God’s hands.” Then believe you are NOW receiving all the power you need. “Feel” it flowing into you. Affirm that you are in God’s hands that “the kingdom of God is within you” (Luke 17:21) in the form of adequate power to meet life’s demands.

Remind yourself that God is with you and nothing can defeat you. Believe that you now RECEIVE power from him.

-Norman Vincent Peale
from his book The Power of Positive Thinking
Chapter 1 “Believe in Yourself” (pp 13-14)

This is a continuation of the themes introduced in my blog posts Learning Acceptance and Practicing Stillness. It has been suggested to me recently that I need to learn the difference between what’s important and what’s not important, and then let go of what doesn’t warrant my time, energy, and worry. I tend to make myself busy and then keep myself that way. I even look at relaxing as sort of a “task” and assign it a certain amount of time. Often, when I finally get to bed, I’m exhausted. Then I don’t get enough sleep, get up early, and start all over again.

Something’s got to give.

As part of this “suggestion,” I’ve been given a bit of “homework” (another task) to do. I’m supposed to read Norman Vincent Peale’s classic tome from which I quoted a few moments ago. Naturally, I’ll see this assignment through as I do all my obligations (sounds grim, doesn’t it?) but I have a problem. I hate inspirational books.

Reading Peale’s book isn’t much different than reading other material of a similar vein. There are no end of inspirational blogs on the web, such as morningcoach.com and Dumb Little Man and although I read them from time to time, they don’t do very much for me. I find them just too “fluffy” and “phony” sounding.

More to the point, I don’t find them very practical. Inspirational material almost never meets the person where they are starting from but rather, paints a sort of idealized picture of “pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps” just as “easy as pie.” Regardless of whether you’re trying to learn a sport or recovering from a horrible plane crash, these little “sound bytes” of enthusiasm approach the audience’s conflicts in fundamentally the same way. Worse, the comments written in response are almost always stuff (fluff) like, “this helped me so much” or “I tried your suggestion and it was amazing.” No one writes anything like, “I tried what you said and fell flat on my face, ending up a thousand times worse off than I was before.”

Am I being cynical?

Although Peale’s work has been criticized on a number of levels, the vast majority of reviews on “Positive Thinking” are…positive. But although I’ve only read chapter 1 so far, I have a problem with Peale’s approach, especially his use of scripture. Take a look at the quote from the beginning of this blog post again. Do you see my problem? What about the context of what’s being said in those passages from the Bible?

One of the issues I have with some Bible studies is that they tend to take one or two lines from the Bible and build an entire theology around them. It’s as if the words weren’t part of a conversation or an overall Biblical background, but instead, the cornerstone of a complete way of thinking and behaving. Did Paul intend for one sentence in his letter to the Romans to be the focus of his entire message? Was Philippians 4:13 supposed to be a Christian mantra? And when Jesus said, “the kingdom of God is in the midst of you” (Luke 17:21 [ESV]), was he really saying that all Christians “are NOW receiving all the power” they need to accomplish their goals?

And yet, I can’t deny that a lot of people say that reading and studying his book has helped them. I also can’t deny (though I find it hard to grasp) that lots of people find inspirational blogs, books, tapes, and videos helpful in improving their day-to-day lives. There really is nothing new in this material from one source to another. It all seems to say the same things but in different ways (I feel that way about many of the blogs I write, too). It’s no secret that “you are what you think” and this philosophy is the basis for the “positive affirmations” you’ll find in Peale’s book as well as in many other inspirational materials. It all seems so easy, but for me, it’s also so hard to swallow.

Shifting scenes for a moment, most of you may not know that my Mom (Hi, Mom) is a periodic reader of this blog (no pressure). Having perused some recent posts that have expressed my usual angst, she responded in part, like this:

I have read quite a few of your blogs, but not nearly all of them. Although I enjoy reading them you make religion so hard.

Here is what I think not about what you write but about what I believe.

Re read John 3/16 and beyond. It says it all for me.

The church we belong to is like a family, Not to say we haven’t had our ups and downs like families do. Maybe were like a family because most of us are from somewhere else with no relatives near. When Dad had both knees done and I had my surgery. lots of our friends showed up and just sat in the waiting room. We have a prayer chain that prays for the persons who are having difficulties. Of course we know God answers prayers, but maybe not the way we want him too. I love the fellowship that I have with other Christians. It didn’t happen like a fire cracker going off. It came slowly like most good things do.

I send this e-mail with much love. Just wanted to get my two cents in, but do keep writing there are people you are helping. I’m one of them.

Love Mom.

Thanks, Mom.

Naturally, I was captured by the words, “you make religion so hard.” In a later email, Mom told me that:

My faith is so easy, I only have to trust and believe. Because of my faith I will try to do good, which at times I fail miserly and I’m happy that I have more. But I’m a firm believer in everyone has to do what they have to do.

I can’t argue against what Mom says, but as most of you know, it’s hard for me to view religion as easy. But then, is it religion or faith we’re talking about? Is faith easy?

Faith, in terms of accepting the existence of God and the Messiahship of Jesus, isn’t exactly “easy” but it’s quite a bit more approachable than some of the other issues I grapple with such as trust, which isn’t the same as faith, fellowship, and reconciling my Christianity within the context of intermarriage. Digging down into this mud-pie, I find that what I’m really afraid of is getting too comfortable. There are too many Christians (and I suppose too many people in other religious traditions) who just accept what they’re told, never question it, and set their spiritual journey on cruise control. When you take your hands off the wheel, you have no part in where you end up. I suppose letting God take control and “giving it all to Him” is a common refrain in many churches, but did God create us to be little Christian robots with no will of our own and no participation in our relationship with Him? Aren’t we supposed to struggle?

Maybe I don’t like inspirational books and blogs because they suggest that everything is easy and struggle free and that all problems have perfect solutions. If there’s no struggle with life and no struggle with God, where is the spark in that life? Yes, I want peace, and I want to let go of needless worries, but I don’t want to be in a coma. How am I supposed to approach the “peace beyond all understanding” without feeling as if I’ve completely dumbed down my life into a series of Biblical platitudes?

There is only one thing that can put you further ahead than success, and that is surviving failure.

When you are successful, you are whole and complete. That is wonderful, but you cannot break out beyond your own universe.

When you fail, you are broken. You look at the pieces of yourself lying on the ground and say, “This is worthless.”

Now you can escape. The shell is broken, the shell of a created being. Now you can grow to join the Infinite.

-Rabbi Tzvi Freeman
“Getting Ahead with Failure”
Based on letters and talks of the Rebbe
Rabbi M. M. Schneerson
Chabad.org

I’m not all that keen on being broken up in order to find freedom, but is Rabbi Freeman’s rendition of the teachings of the Rebbe really so different than the words of their Christian counterparts? It seems so to be, but I bet if I looked hard enough, I’d find a Pastor or Christian author who has said more or less the same thing. I just like how Rabbi Freeman frames his statements better.

One of the “secrets” to being a successful teacher (or salesperson or entertainer or…) is understanding your students (or audience). Once you get inside their heads, comprehend their language, and grasp the meaning of their internal metaphors, all you have to do is take your message and craft it in a compatible style. Maybe what I’ve been kvetching about isn’t the inappropriateness of the Peale’s message but the style in which it’s presented. He’s writing to an audience of which I do not belong. It’s not that I’m not a Christian, but how I conceptualize my Christianity is very different than most church goers. If I can set style aside or refactor his words into a style that fits me better, will I be able to listen to what he is trying to say?

The concept of tikkun olam or “repairing the world” requires that each person be able to see himself or herself as a junior partner in the task of making the world a better place in which to live. In that manner, Jews believe that every act of kindness and charity brings the Messiah just one step closer to arriving. We don’t have total control, but we have a part to play and without each of us, the Messiah will be delayed, perhaps indefinitely. However, in order for a person to participate in tikkun olam, they must first understand and acknowledge that they actually have a role with God, and then find out what that role is. The role in their partnership with God also has to “fit” who the person is and their relative skill sets, and they have to be able to really see themselves as being able to hold up their end of the bargain, so to speak.

How can you convince a mere mortal human being that they have a meaningful and even indispensable role to play in the plan of God? How do I define my relationship, as an individual, with the unimaginably infinite Creator of the Universe? In trying to make my own peace with God and finding out how to live out my indispensable role in tikkun olam, I need to find the message written in the right language…or be able to write it myself.

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Judaism Without Jewishness

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In Maimonides’ introduction to the Sefer Hamitzvot (“The Book of Commandments”), he states the goal he set to accomplish with authoring this work.

The Talmud (end of Tractate Makkot) tells us that there are 613 biblical precepts—248 of which are “positive commandments,” i.e., mitzvot that require an action on our part, and 365 “negative commandments,” i.e., prohibitions. The 248 positive commandments correspond to the 248 limbs in the human body, each limb, as it were, demanding the observance of one commandment. The 365 negative commandments correspond to the 365 days of the solar year, each day enjoining us not to transgress a certain prohibition.

Maimonides’ Introduction to Sefer Hamitzvot
Lessons for Shabbat, March 3, 2012 – 9 Adar, 5772
Chabad.org

I sometimes wish I could live the life of a scholar, immersed in the ancient tomes, pouring over arcane literature, seeking the wisdom of the ancients. I find what little I am able to study extremely rewarding, but it leaves me longing for more. There are a number of reasons why I don’t pursue such a path more wholeheartedly. For one thing, I most likely am not quite bright enough to truly become a scholar. I consider myself an “interested amateur” in the realm of the Jewish learned texts, but that’s just about it. Also, I have to make a living, and my work involves a completely different set of disciplines and skills. I can hardly quit my “day job” and throw myself into Jewish study full time. My wife would have a fit. Finally, I lack an appropriate Jewish venue for learning. Sure, I could take some online courses, but that would involve the time I’ve already said I do not have and alas, the funds that are dedicated to supporting my family, so such is not to be.

Given all that I’ve just said, please forgive the multitude of the mistakes I’m about to make. All of the observations are my own including any errors. I can only plead ignorance and excessive enthusiasm.

But I am having a blast reading Chabad’s daily commentaries on the Rambam’s Sefer Hamitzvot. You might consider such a line of interest a waste of time for a Christian. After all, what does Jewish philosophy, theology, and thought have to do with the Jewish Messiah (or did I just answer my own question)? In terms of how the church chooses to view their devotion to Jesus Christ, Maimonides has practically nothing to do with faith in Christ. On the other hand, how can we really understand the Jewish Messiah and his modern-day Jewish disciples if, as his Gentile disciples, we don’t even dip one toe into the wells of Jewish wisdom?

In his book review of First Fruits of Zion’s book Biblically Kosher, Gene Shlomovich makes a few interesting comments that speak to this point.

Messianic Jewish congregations do not lack food. Far from it, there’s usually plenty of it in our synagogues. But is it kosher? In my experience, most of the congregations only pay lip service to kashrut, often not extending it beyond not serving pork and shrimp. The same even goes for many of the leaders as well. Even worse, our Messianic Jewish conferences, the showcases of our Jewishness, of our unity and solidarity with the Jewish people and Judaism, of our allegiance to Torah, are often located far away from Jewish communities or from kosher establishments, with most participants expected to partake in the non-kosher fair served up by the hotel where the conference is taking place! One can cite many reasons for this – historic Christian anti-Judaism that has left its mark resulting in aversion to all things “rabbinic”, rampant secularization of American Jewry, unwillingness to put in the effort required, perceived and actual higher costs of keeping kosher, and often just plain ignorance.

This rather shocking commentary shows that even a significant number of those people and congregations that purport to be Messianic Jewish choose not to grasp the “Jewishness” of being a Judaism (Messianic or otherwise). I don’t doubt their sincerity in and devotion to Jesus as the Jewish Messiah and as Lord and Savior of humankind, but for the most part, the “Jewishness” of their “Judaism” is just so-so (and if I, a gentile Christian can make such an observation, imagine what impression these groups make on other Judaisms?). If you are a Christian with a deep interest in Judaism and its Messianic applications, just say so and proceed accordingly. That might be a better path than recreating Gentiles in a Jewish image and suggesting that you are something other than who you (we) really are. Am I being too harsh?

That leads me to something I just read in my Chabad study of Sefer Hamitzvot. I think it’s interesting.

Do not count Rabbinic Commandments in this list. E.g. lighting Chanukah candles or reciting the Hallel.

Indeed, this seems obvious, for the Talmud says that 613 mitzvot “were given to Moses at Sinai,” and rabbinic mitzvot were not instituted until later dates. But in truth, we follow rabbinic rulings because of a biblical mandate: “You shall not divert from the word they tell you, either right or left” (Deuteronomy 17:11); and as such, before performing a rabbinic mitzvah, we say a blessing in which we thank G-d for “sanctifying us with His commandments and commanding us to…” Nevertheless, the individual rabbinic precepts are not counted as part of the 613 (and, are considered “rabbinic,” a classification that has certain halachic implications).

Many Messianic Jewish groups put forth the supposition that Gentile Christians are equally obligated to the same 613 commandments (the current codification of which were created by Rambam) as their Jewish counterparts. I’ve said more than once that any attempt of non-Jews to emulate a Jewish lifestyle, especially one that eschews all but the most basic tenets of Judaism (particularly oral tradition and Talmud), will be at best inadequate and at worst, a sham. I’m not encouraging non-Jewish Christians to take on a Jewish lifestyle, especially “just for giggles,” but if you insist on pursuing a knowledge of Judaism and feel compelled to take on some of the mitzvot as a personal conviction (and I can certainly relate to this), then you might want to acquire some sort of idea of what you’re getting into.

Getting back to Principle 1 though, I find it fascinating that the rabbinic judgments are not to be included in the 613 commandments. At first blush, it seems as if it may be correct to divorce the written Torah from its oral and midrashic counterparts, as certain parts of Messianic Judaism have indeed done. But the very idea that there are 613 commandments comes from Talmud.

While the Talmud gives us these precise numbers, it does not list the 248 positive commandments or the 365 negative ones. Thus, numerous “mitzvah counters” have arisen throughout the generations – many who preceded Maimonides – each one attempting to provide a comprehensive listing of the mitzvot, each one’s list differing slightly from all others’.

The idea isn’t that the written Torah has authority and the oral Law, Talmud, and halacha don’t, but that they are intricately interwoven and interdependent elements. The Torah of God given at Sinai is of God. Of this, there is no dispute. However, in Judaism, the oral Law was also given at Sinai, but only to Moses. Without the oral Law, there would be no hope of understanding, let alone implementing, the written mitzvot. Yet, in the post Second Temple period, it became necessary to document and understand written and oral Torah in relation to a world without a Temple, without a priesthood, without the sacrifices, and without Israel.

But.

But this doesn’t mean that rabbinic rulings are the same as the Word of God. Rambam’s gift to the Jews is to provide documentation of how the Laws of God are to be understood and implemented within Judaism. This is an important point, because the Torah laws, for the most part, aren’t implemented in such a precise manner within much of Messianic Judaism (even many congregations in that portion of MJ that is devoutly Jewish in their observance may need a “touch up” here and there). In other words, you can’t just read the 613 commandments in a list and think you know what you’re reading and how to respond to them. That’s why Rambam wrote the Sefer Hamitzvot in the first place. That’s why the Talmud exists, why the Beit Din exists in many Jewish communities, and why there is a continually growing body of Jewish rabbinic rulings and judgments as questions and situations arise requiring them.

The Sefer Hamitzvot is a document limited in scope but one that couldn’t exist apart from the wider body of Jewish law and interpretation. Any non-Jew or any Jew who does not have a history grounded in traditional Jewish learning (and who is in the Messianic community in some capacity) will want to pay attention to the Torah as the foundation, and also the so-called “leaven of the Pharisees,” (I say that somewhat tongue-in-cheek). This “leaven” is what adds the dimensions of meaning to what might otherwise be a compelling and driving force in Jewish life, but also a rather unattainable Torah. The Torah is not in Heaven. Once given to men, men must learn to understand God’s intent within the world where we live.

As I’ve already said, I’m not an expert in this area. I’m only an interested amateur, so I probably got everything wrong just now. On the other hand, it’s better to get everything wrong and admit ignorance than to claim to have everything right and still be completely turned around. At least in the former case, there’s always the opportunity for correction. Even the best explorers get lost. Only the foolish explorers think they never can be.

When you find the Infinite, where will you put it?

In your broken vessel?
It will not stay.

In a new whole one?
It will not fit.

Let the heart be broken in bitterness for its confines. Let it be whole in the joy of a boundless soul.

This is the secret that Man holds over the angels: Only the human heart can be broken and whole at once.

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

When we study, we are reading the map. Our teachers are our guides. Rebuke is replacing a flawed course for a better one. Our destination is the broken and healed heart within us, into which the infinite resides. Judaism is an interface by which we can understand all of that, if it is the one we choose. For the Jew, Judaism is the natural lens by which to view Torah and God. For the rest of us, it is the method by which we can attempt to understand the Jewishness of the Messiah. If we non-Jews choose to go down that path, then we need to let the path tell us where it goes and not the other way around. You can’t have a Judaism without “Jewishness.”

 

divinity

The Glorious Branch

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In some English versions of Isaiah 4:2, the translators capitalized the word “Branch.” This tells the reader that the branch here is not literal but someone unique, namely Messiah. So we read, “In that day the Branch of the LORD shall be beautiful and glorious.” The Hebrew allows for that and more. Since “shall be beautiful and glorious” can also mean “shall become beautiful and glorious,” it is possible to capitalize these two words as well. In this way, one should read Beautiful and Glorious as the transformation of Messiah from the ordinary to the magnificent. Glorious, therefore, becomes yet another name for the Messiah: The Branch is Glorious.”

That Messiah is called Glorious (kavod) is no small thing, since Jewish in thought, glory is one of the attributes of God. In the language of theologians, Jews see glory as a divine attribute. One can see why this is so from verses such as “And the glory of the LORD appeared to them” (Numbers 20:6). Accordingly, what appeared before the people of Israel was no mere cloud, but rather Glory personified.

This and other verses lead to some fascinating conclusions.

-Tsvi Sadan, from his upcoming book
The Concealed Light: Names of Messiah in Jewish Sources”
“Glorious,” pp 120-1

I often ponder the nature and character of the Messiah. I suppose these thoughts have been especially accentuated given that I’m currently reading Sadan’s book (available for purchase on March 15th from First Fruits of Zion/Vine of David). I’ll write a full review of this book when I finish it, but so far, examining each of the multitude of names for the Messiah found in the Bible, in Talmud, in the Zohar, and other Jewish writings is like peeling away the different layers of an onion: the more that I explore, the more that is revealed. It’s also like putting together a giant jigsaw puzzle whereby, the more pieces that I gather and put together, the more complete a picture is presented. If I can rely on all of these “pieces;” all of these names to be accurate descriptors for Messiah, then I see that he is more amazingly complex than I could have possibly imagined.

Yesterday, I read and commented on Derek Leman’s blog post Quick Thoughts: Yeshua as the Radiance of God, which also describes something of the nature and character of the Messiah, particularly in relation to his “deity”. Leman said in part:

But hold on a minute. Many ideas in Jewish monotheism were formed in the centuries after Yeshua and specifically as a reaction against Christian persecution of our people and missionizing of our people. Yet in spite of the desire of many Jewish sages and thinkers to take monotheism in a direction incapable of being harmonized with the idea of a Divine Emanation of God who could take on humanity and be the Divine Man, Judaism has too much vested in the idea of God’s Emanations to go completely in that direction.

From reading the comments, it seems as if most people see what Leman wrote as confirming the traditional interpretation of Jesus as part of the “Godhead,” and as literally co-equal with God the Father and God the Spirit. As Leman references in the quote above, this concept seems to collide rather uncomfortably with Jewish monotheism, yet most of Leman’s readership seems to believe that Trinitarianism and monotheism can be reconciled and “harmonized”. I guess I’m still something of a theological blockhead, or maybe I just don’t like taking anyone’s word for it, especially since the explanation for the Trinity is a “mystery” that isn’t supposed to be questioned.

But that isn’t quite what Leman said. In his comment responding to mine, he wrote:

The emanations of God in the Tanakh were, in fact, God. Spirit. Name. Glory. Word. Voice. Presence. So the idea that Yeshua must be some exalted being of lesser status than God is not a requirement from the standpoint of Jewish theology. The “separate” part means he is not the totality of God. The “equivalent” part means emanates from God as part of God’s Being. Yes, Yeshua is under the authority of God (Father, Direct Being of God).

I’m not sure how the Messiah can be God the Son, co-equal to the other manifestations of God (Gods?) and also be “not the totality of God,” but maybe that’s a part of the puzzle that hasn’t been revealed to us yet (if it ever will be). Somewhere in my heart, I cannot accept the finality of the statement Jesus is God followed quickly by the statement, “discussion over.” In peeling away the layers of the onion and shuffling through the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle that I can’t yet fit into the rest of the picture, what I hear instead is, I don’t know.”

Who is the Messiah and in what way does he possess the divine quality (one among many) of being “glorious?” Sadan continues his commentary on “Glorious” as a name of the Messiah with a compelling midrash (and remember that midrash is not fact, so please don’t bite my head off):

In an outstanding Jewish commentary from the ninth century CE on Psalm 36:9, “In Your light we see light,” the author offers an imaginary conversation between God, Satan, and Messiah which reflects his own understanding of who is Messiah and what is his role. In this conversation, Satan attempts to deter God from honoring Messiah. Challenged, God asks Messiah what he intends to do in light of the suffering inflicted upon him because of those whom he came to save, and the Messiah answers:

“Master of worlds, with the joy of my soul and the pleasure of my heart, I accept upon myself that none from Israel will perish and that not only the living will be saved in my day but also those hidden in the soil…and not only those will be saved, but all hosts whom you have thought to create but have not. This is what I desire, this is what I accept upon me” (Pesikta Rabbati, 36).

Ironically, this is not unlike other words of the Messiah we find here:

And he withdrew from them about a stone’s throw, and knelt down and prayed, saying, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.” And there appeared to him an angel from heaven, strengthening him. And being in agony he prayed more earnestly; and his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground. –Luke 22:41-44 (ESV)

Moses at SinaiIn my morning meditation for Torah Portion Tetzaveh, I commented how alike Moses and Jesus were in that they were willing to sacrifice everything including their lives for the sake of their people Israel. We know that Moses was a man and that men, even courageous and righteous men, do not lay down their lives lightly. If Messiah is God and death means nothing to him, then why was he in agony, why did his sweat become “like great drops of blood,” and why did he need an angel to appear out of heaven to strengthen him? I’m not saying that the Messiah can’t encompass more than man in some mystic sense, but I see him as more than just a flesh and blood “placeholder” for God. Otherwise, what did he sacrifice that can compared to Moses?

Sadan continues:

This astonishing midrash says in no uncertain terms that Messiah is willing to suffer and give up his life for the sake of all Israel, even those who were not yet conceived…The same midrash goes on to say that “on that hour God appointed for him the four creatures who carry the throne of glory, of Messiah.” Messiah, who in this midrash is seated underneath God’s throne, is elevated, glorified, and given the permission to sit on his own separate throne. Messiah’s willingness to give up his life is that which turns him from the ordinary Branch to Glorious , whose throne now is alongside God’s throne.

Psalm 110:1 is probably the most well known example of the Messiah sitting in the highest place of honor at God’s right hand, and in Revelation 22:1 we see the throne of God and of the Lamb in the restored Eden at the end of all things, so it’s not as if midrash is totally undescriptive of the Messiah we, his disciples, have come to know.

We must know certain things to be true and to trust in God in order to be called by His Name, and we must believe in the Messiahship of Jesus in order to be his disciples and worthy of his teachings. One of the things we know about God is that He is unknowable in any absolute manner. Among the Rambam’s thirteen principles of faith, we know that God alone has created everything and rules over everything. We know that He is a perfect and complete One and in that, He is alone. We know that He is not a physical body and that physical laws and limitations do not apply to Him in any way. I wrote a four-part series about the Divine nature of the Messiah, starting with Exploring Messianic Divinity and you can review those writings for more details, but to give a brief summary, I believe the Messiah is of a Divine nature but not simply and literally God transformed into a human being. I don’t know who Messiah is exactly. And I don’t know who God is at all…well, maybe just a little, as some of His tiny shards and sparks have been revealed.

I’m continuing to struggle and at the same time continuing to find some sort of peace while wrestling with God. Judaism is, in many ways, illustrated as a people who struggle with God at every step of the path, and while I’m hardly Jewish, I too feel the struggle. Christianity is founded on accepting theologies, and platitudes, and pronouncements, and woe be on the believer in the sanctuary, the Bible study, or on the Internet, who actually questions any of these “conclusions.” I will probably never understand those things that everyone else seems to know so well that they take them (and maybe the Messiah) for granted. I only know that the glory of God and the eternal light of Messiah are blinding me and I can see neither one with any sort of detail. All I have are questions and no answers. All I see is the human me and not the “more than human” me that somehow contains the image and the Spirit of God.

It is said in Judaism that the Torah is not in heaven, meaning that once the Torah was given at Sinai, it was not up to God to interpret its meaning, but men. But the Messiah was given to men at Bethlehem. Can he be “interpreted” by men in the world, or is his glory still a concealed light under the Throne of God in Heaven? I don’t know. A lot of people seem to think they know, but I’m not so sure. Maybe it’s just that I’m not terribly knowledgeable in this area and am making up mysteries around Jesus that don’t exist, but as I continue to explore the “trail” left for me by Tsvi Sadan and the names of the Messiah, I find more there than I can find in what I’ve been told to expect.

The puzzle is there on the table in front of me and I’m not even sure I have all of the pieces in order to make a complete picture. I take that back. I’m sure many of the pieces to the “Messiah puzzle” are missing. Even if I had all the pieces, I’m like a three-year old trying to put together the world’s largest jigsaw puzzle in the dark. It would be a challenge even for the best puzzle builders. How am I supposed to do this?

Maybe I’m not supposed to see the picture or to understand the mystery. Perhaps all that is expected of me is to do justice, love kindness, and to walk humbly with my God (Micah 6:8). Maybe all I can ever hope for is that God strengthens me enough so that I’m able to continue to put one foot in front of another on this path he has set me upon. And as much as I want to stop and to appreciate the scenery and the beauty that surrounds me, the path calls and demands I try to take one more step, to place one more tiny piece correctly in the puzzle. In doing this, I know that while I live, the destination will elude me, and the picture will always be incomplete. Is the Messiah given to men so that men may know him, or is he still hidden under the Throne of God?

I envy those of you who can see everything the Master is and all that he teaches. I still think that my Master is concealed and yet even hidden, his light blinds me.

The true teacher is most present in his absence.

It is then that all he has taught takes root, grows and blossoms.

The students despairs for his teacher’s guidance,
and in that yearning, the teacher’s work bears fruit.

-Rabbi Tzvi Freeman
“Present in Absence”
Based on letters and talks of the Rebbe
Rabbi M. M. Schneerson
Chabad.org

The sages say, the Torah cannot be taught from the Heavens.” So the only place I have left to seek his teachings is here on earth. That’s going to have to be enough, because I have no where else to look.

For more, go to The Concealed Light: A Book Review.

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Waiting in a Minefield

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The words and the stories of Torah are but its clothing; the guidance within them is its body.

And, as with a body, within that guidance breathes a soul that gives life to whoever follows it.

And within that soul breathes a deeper, transcendental soul, the soul of the soul: G-d Himself within His Torah.

Grasp the clothes alone and you have an empty shell. Grasp straight for the soul—or even the body—and you will come up with nothing. They are not graspable; they are G-dly wisdom and you are a created being.

Instead, examine those words and those stories, turn them again and again. As fine clothes and jewelry can bring out the beauty of the one who wears them, so these words and stories can lead you to the G-dliness that dwells within the Torah.

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

I quoted the above in today’s morning mediation but it seems this particular lesson isn’t done with me yet. The “clothing” of Torah or of God (take your pick since they’re interchangeable in one way or another) is only one aspect of who we are. We refer to Jesus as “the Word made flesh” declaring that Christianity, as well as Judaism, has a tradition of imbuing the Torah with the life of the Divine, but what about the clothing that we wear as disciples of the Master? Interestingly enough, Rabbi Freeman has something to say about our live clothing, too.

There is a suit we wear that has a life of its own.

It is knitted of the fabric of words, images and sounds, mischievous characters that no one else can see—or would care to know.

You, however, hear them day and night, chattering, buzzing, playing their games in the courtyard of your mind. They are all the threads of the garment of thought that envelops you.

Leave your thoughts to play on their own, and they will take you for a ride to places you never wanted to see.

Grab the reins, master them, direct them, flex your mind, and they will follow. Provide them a script, and they will play along.

Do something quick, because you, after all, are dressed up within them.

We seek to be clothed in the holy but all the while, we struggle with the fabric of the mundane, which is the fabric of our human lives. I suppose that’s as good a way as any of describing the struggle we go through every day as people of faith living in a broken world. It’s also more personal because the brokenness is in each of us, not just in the world we inhabit. Rabbi Freeman says that we can achieve some manner of control over this “suit” we wear by giving it a “script” to follow, but make no mistake, taking control is not the same as shedding your skin, because after all, we “are dressed up within them.” We are all trapped in the mundane while longing for the holy.

Recently, I was accused of not understanding this particular lesson and failing to have compassion for people whose life of faith competed with the demands of family. I suppose I feel that demand a bit less because my children are not adults and are responsible for their own religious existence (or lack thereof), but I still experience the push, pull, and shove between the various “words, images and sounds” that make up the different forces that struggle for control over me. I continue to be encased by the competing priorities of man and God.

Part of the interesting dilemma of asking for advice when trying to make a decision, is that you get some. I’ve been asking for advice about the future of fellowship in my life and have been receiving both public and private messages in response. I’ve been forced to consider options that had not occurred to me and avenues I previously had not considered valid. I feel like a man standing in the center of a room with blank walls and no furniture and who is told that I am surrounded by explosive mines. I’m provided with several conflicting maps showing me a safe path out of the room, but I don’t know which one to trust. I’m also told that my own plans for escaping the room are flawed and will certainly lead to destruction.

There’s a difference between asking for and receiving advice, and then taking it.

I think this is one of those times when I’m supposed to be still and quiet and I’m supposed to patiently wait. As you know, I’m not very good at being quiet, but it seems I have no choice about waiting. In real life, making a move one direction or another won’t result in an actual explosion, but a wrong step will still result in making a mistake (which I suppose is inevitable, no matter what I do). On the other hand, I can choose to grab a chair and make myself comfortable in the center of the empty room. Perhaps this is where God wants me after all…or it may be the consequence I’ve built for myself as a result of my assumptions and decisions.

Either way, I am in an empty room with no clear way out…and God is here.

So I sit and wait for God to make the next move. My only question now is, will the wait be temporary or permanent?

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Falling and Rising

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Rabbi Noah Weinberg was visiting the United States of America. He spent one Shabbat in a small New Jersey community. The people were friendly, and because of the small size of the congregation for Rabbi mingled freely with all the congregants. On Shabbat afternoon, when they sat to eat Seudah Shelisheet, the third Shabbat meal, a young man who was sitting next to the Rabbi began a conversation, which expressed his frustration with his ability to learn Torah. The young man described the many hours in the many techniques he had tried in order to grasp the difficult concepts of the Talmud study.

“How come I just can’t get it?” he asked. “No matter what I do, it seems my conclusions are wrong when I get a chance to review with my Rabbi. I am about to give up,” he said he reported.

-Rabbi Raymond Beyda
“Try Try Again”
Commentary on Parashas Terumah
Torah.org

On last Friday’s extra meditation, I posted a video of Rev. LeeAnne Watkins, Rector at St. Marys, St. Paul, a faith community located in the Merriam Park neighborhood of St. Paul, Minnesota. As you may recall, she was lamenting that after “years of experience and lots of good will, traditional Faith Formation programming is floundering in communities across the country,” including her own. In response, the ministerial staff at St Mary’s had stopped offering all adult education classes. They cancelled everything. They gave up. Rev. Watkins gave up.

I just got an email notice from WordPress.com notifying me that the domain name for this blog will expire in 90 days. I can either choose to renew it for another year, or let it lapse, sending my “morning meditations” into obscure oblivion. Believe me, there are times when I’m tempted to give up, too. The contentiousness and extreme lack of unity within the community of faith in Jesus Christ is just stunning at times. It’s not only the lack of unity, but the hostility expressed in our various online exchanges that makes me wonder if there even is a community of faith in the Messiah anymore. Everyone is so concerned with protecting their own turf and their own theologies, usually at the expense of everyone else who calls Jesus “Master” and “Lord.”

An extreme, though understandable, example is found in Lawrence H. Schiffman’s review of Rabbi Shmuley Boteach’s controversial book, Kosher Jesus as posted at JewishJournal.com. Even the concept of attempting to establish peace between Judaism and Christianity is depicted in widely different ways by these two Jewish gentlemen:

Most difficult to accept is Boteach’s claim that Jews should re-accept Jesus as one of their own teachers, so that Jews and Christians will share this common teacher and unite in our service of God. This notion is probably the cause of the great controversy that already surrounds this book. In making this proposal the author ignores two major issues: 1) The symbolism of Jesus in Western culture where Jews were taunted, persecuted and killed in Jesus’ name. It is simply insensitive to expect, as Boteach does, that this experience should be forgotten so quickly. 2) The need for Judaism to draw clear lines between itself and Christianity to avoid losing adherents to the dominant faith. The Jewishness of Jesus is regularly used in evangelizing Jews by Christian proselytizers to ease the way from Judaism to Christianity. So there is no sense to the proposal to reclaim Jesus as a teacher and hero. He is best left to his Christian adherents, even if he was once a fellow Jew who lived by the Jewish tradition.

Although Rabbi Boteach advocates Jews attempting to reintegrate the historical and Jewish Jesus back into Judaism in order to foster Jewish/Christian peace, Professor Schiffman believes that such peace can only be achieved and maintained by abandoning any hope that Jesus could be considered Jewish, relegating him to the exclusive realm of “Gentile god”. While I can certainly understand the need to separate the Christian Jesus from modern Judaism, given the traditional enmity between the two religions, it is still discouraging that Judaism is unable or unwilling to at least consider the teachings of the Jewish teacher from Natzeret, even apart from Christian rhetoric.

Of course, there are plenty of disagreements within Christianity and particularly between the church and the Messianic Jews who have accepted the Nazarene as Master and Messiah, so I don’t have to go looking too far for discouragement. Going back to Rabbi Beyda’s commentary, at the level of the individual, disappointment doesn’t have to be caused by interfaith conflicts. Just facing personal inadequacies can be enough to make you, or rather, to make me want to give up.

But what about our metaphorical Talmud student. Is his case truly hopeless. I found an interesting answer from a very non-religious source:

In this new paper, Moser et al. extends this research by looking at how beliefs about learning shape these mostly involuntary error-related signals in the brain, both of which appear in less than half a second. More specifically, the scientists applied a dichotomy first proposed by Carol Dweck, a psychologist at Stanford. In her influential research, Dweck distinguishes between people with a fixed mindset — they tend to agree with statements such as “You have a certain amount of intelligence and cannot do much to change it” — and those with a growth mindset, who believe that we can get better at almost anything, provided we invest the necessary time and energy. While people with a fixed mindset see mistakes as a dismal failure — a sign that we aren’t talented enough for the task in question — those with a growth mindset see mistakes as an essential precursor of knowledge, the engine of education.

-Jonah Lehrer
“Whe Do Some People Learn Faster?”
October 4, 2011
Wired.com

I encourage you to read the entire article but in brief, research seems to support the idea that what you tell yourself about learning affects your ability to learn more and to learn faster. If you believe learning is only an effect of your raw, native intelligence, then you internally set limits that you cannot and will not exceed. If, on the other hand, you believe that time and effort can create change and expand your ability to learn beyond your current thresholds, then you indeed will learn more and exceed your limitations.

Interestingly enough, that’s not much different from the advice Rabbi Weinberg gave to the troubled Talmud student.

“That is the worst solution, you could choose” the rabbi responded. “A person has to understand that the learning of Torah is not something that a human being can do without the help of Hashem. Hashem expects you to put in all the effort you can, and then he will produce the results.”

The young man listened and was encouraged. The respect he had for the sage gave him the strength to continue with his suggestion of try try again. Not long after he made a breakthrough. He reached a level where he was able to prepare a portion of the Talmud on his own. Today that young man is a practicing Rabbi in his community teaching others how to learn and how to be patient, if at first they do not succeed.

I’ve presented a lot of content to express what has already been said in a single sentence attributed to 19th century educator Thomas H. Palmer: If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. W.C. Fields said something similar, but it’s hardly as useful. Then there’s what the brother of the Master said.

Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. –James 1:2-4 (ESV)

Am I trying to give you some sort of pep talk? Not at all. If anything, I’m trying to encourage myself. Given the sad shape the world is in lately, the spiritual struggles of one human being who otherwise is doing fairly well don’t really stack up all that much. To extend that thought back into the realm of famous Hollywood quotes, here’s what the “great sage” Rick (played by Humphrey Bogart) had to say:

I’m no good at being noble, but it doesn’t take much to see that the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you’ll understand that.

–Casablanca (1942)

If I (or anyone else) feels alone in the world of faith, it’s not because we are separated from God, it’s because we are separated from each other as human beings and disciples of the Master. That separation is largely by choice. We choose to believe this or that about what the Bible says, which makes it difficult for us to associate with people who interpret the Bible differently. We choose to organize a worship service on a particular day, using specific prayers, and songs, and sermons, and others choose to do it differently on a different day. Then we tell ourselves that one type of service “feels at home” while another type “feels uncomfortable,” but those are choices, too.

There’s nothing wrong about making those choices, but having made them, we live with the consequences. I’ve made choices and am living with the consequences now. I can choose to do nothing or choose a different direction and then there will be more and different consequences. Rev. Watkins and the folks at St. Mary’s made a choice and now they, and the people who attend their church, will live with the consequences. If the Talmud student had given up, there would have been consequences too, but he chose to go on and the consequence for perseverance was to become a Rabbi.

We like to think that we make one choice and we never have to revisit it again, but I find that I am looking at the choices I’ve made every day and continually confronting the consequences, adjusting my studies, my searches, my prayers, and my actions all the time as a result. A relationship with God is incredibly dynamic. If I were to dare to become comfortable with my choices, I have no doubt He would challenge me into discomfort, and then I would have to learn something by generating some effort. What we learn isn’t always what we want to learn but it all adds up to something, though I’m not always sure what. In the end, the only thing I know how to do is to move forward, whether I ultimately choose to continue this blog after the next 90 days or not. I can’t see around the next bend on this “trail of faith” which I suppose makes sense. Faith is pursuing the unseen, not the knowable. God is unseen but sometimes, so are people. Even though I know that my goal is holiness and it is God, what the finish line looks like, and whether I’ll accompany anyone else on the journey, is a mystery.

I only know that I can’t give up what I’m doing, whether it is chasing the scorching Sun like Icarus and plummeting to earth in flames, or like the Phoenix, rising painfully from my own burnt and smoldering ashes. I only know that I have to keep trying, regardless of the consequences. Because God will let me do no less.

 

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Why Am I Alone?

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embedded by Embedded Video

I can’t get this woman out of my head. I’ve seen this video embedded at a lot of different online venues yesterday, but I was busy and didn’t take the time to actually view it until this morning. As it turns out, my “lack of time” is part of what makes this Episcopal Priest’s plea so poignant.

To give credit where it’s due, I clicked a link at Derek Leman’s blog, which took me to the actual embedded video on Scot McKnight’s blog. If you frequent either of those places, you’ve probably already seen the video. If not, and if you haven’t already watched it here or someplace else on the web, please do so before continuing to read my blog post. The video is less than ten minutes long and it is so worth it.

Reading the various comments on Derek’s and McKnight’s blogs, I was taken aback at some of the criticism expressed by a number of the commentators. Granted, the Episcopal church isn’t my cup of tea either, but there’s a lot more going on here than just how we view one version of Christianity versus another. Also, as was pointed out repeatedly, most of the approaches this Priest felt had failed in bringing in and retaining people to a religious and spiritual experience have to do with “programs”. It’s as if, because her methods and her techniques weren’t successful, it meant that people didn’t care about the cause of Christ.

I mentioned on McKnight’s blog that…

I have sort of the opposite problem. I’m sure she and I would disagree about a good many things, but I would *love* to sit down with her (or someone) and talk about Jesus. I just can’t find a person or a place (face-to-face as opposed to online) where I’ll fit in. It’s not a matter of the details, but the honesty and passion this Priest has for what she’s doing and who she is as a person of faith is exactly what I’m looking for.

To me, her specific religious “bent” or her reliance on programs and methods are all secondary to what she’s really saying and particularly, what she’s really feeling. I’ve felt that way too, sort of. No, I’m not an ordained minister of any kind and I haven’t been “called to lead” (although I did a bit of teaching for several years at a small congregation), but I do feel frustrated and isolated, as if no one understands the drive I have to do what I’m doing. She has a drive and a need as well, and she keeps hitting a brick wall. You can only take a good run at a brick wall and smash into it so many times before the pain and lack of forward progress makes you do what she said: “So we cancelled it all…”

In a way, I “cancelled it all” too, but my reasons were very different. I “cancelled” my former way of leading a religious life, not because I wasn’t happy and not because I wasn’t making a kind of progress, but because of where my progress lead me. It’s really a lot more complicated than that, and to find out more, read Why I Don’t Go To Church. I left, not because I hit a wall exactly, but because I realized, in order to avoid hitting a wall, I had to change course.

And so I did.

And then I hit a wall anyway. I recognized the possibility that I might hit that wall, but I was banking on managing to avoid it. I didn’t. So I’m sitting at the base of the wall, as I imagine this Episcopal Priest is doing, taking stock of my options and looking for a way around, over, or under the wall. I’ll need to change my course again, but that’s what life is all about: change. Change is always painful, even when it’s beneficial.

I’m not sure what this Priest’s answer is. I’m not particularly sure of what my answer is. I do know that I’m not inclined to criticize her for her religion or her approach to her need to teach, even if I disagree with them. I do know she’s someone I would really love to talk to about Jesus, not because we would agree with each other, but because, in spite of our extremely different backgrounds, we are at the same place on the trail. We have the same experience. We’re asking the same questions. We’re looking for the same answers. And that tells me something I hadn’t let myself realize before.

It tells me that, in the mess of all of our different religious traditions, and all of the subsets of our religion, and all of the splinters and fragments and offshoots we inhabit because we are so unalike in how we conceptualize God and the Bible and faith, we are all the same. I spend a lot of time focused on how different I am from everybody else around me and what an oddball I must look like to all the other Christians, but today I found someone in a video who helped me realize that we are all the same, too. We travel different paths and occupy divergent trails, but all of those trails intersect between the question and the answer of “who is God” and “who am I”. When we take off our pretenses and our masks and our religious self-delusions and are brutally honest with ourselves and with everyone else, we are all alike when we ask, “why isn’t this working for me?” “Why isn’t this working for everyone else around me?” “What’s wrong and how can I fix it?” “Can I even fix it at all?”

We are all alike when, even in the presence of God, we cry out, “Why do I feel so alone?” That’s why I want to meet her. To tell her she’s not alone. And I want to meet her so I won’t feel alone, too.

But there is hope, even in emptiness, as Rabbi Tzvi Freeman cites from the teachings of the Rebbe:

The beginning of all paths and the starting point of every climb is to open yourself to receive from Above.

How do you receive from Above?
By being empty.
For a vessel that is full cannot receive anything.

A person that is full of self-concern, of “what will become of me?” of “where life is taking me?”—such a person leaves no room for life to enter.

But a simple, open spirit is filled with joy from Above.

Addendum, Friday afternoon: I realized I had no idea who the Priest in the video is and decided to try and find the original source or at least something a little closer to that source. I discovered that the Priest is Rev. LeeAnne Watkins of St. Mary’s Episcopal Church in St. Paul, Minnesota. I traced the video as far back as February 16, 2012 as posted at the Episcopal Story Project. If I find out any more, I’ll update my information here.