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42 Days: Processing Sunday

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The voice of God is in the force.

–Psalms 29:4

The Midrash on this verse comments, “It does not say that `the voice of God is in His force,’ but in the force; it `is in the force of every individual.’ `’ What God demands of every individual never exceeds the capacities He gave that person. Similarly, the Midrash notes that when the first of the Ten Commandments states: I am Hashem, your God, it uses the singular possessive form, because every Israelite felt that God was addressing him or her individually.

The stresses of life may be extremely trying, and the burden some people must carry may appear to be excessive. Yet, we must never despair. Rather, we must believe that regardless of how great our burdens may be, we have the strength to bear it. This faith should give us the courage to struggle with and master our struggle.

Sometimes circumstances become so taxing that we believe we are at our breaking point. This is when a righteous person will be sustained by the faith that although his or her burden may be heavy, it is never too heavy.

Today I shall…

try to remember that God has given me enough strength to withstand the stresses to which I am subject.

-Rabbi Abraham J. Twerski
“Growing Each Day, Kislev 4”
Aish.com

OK, so a relatively gentle dressing down by a Sunday school teacher isn’t the end of the world, nor does it require a tremendous about of strength to “endure.” Still in reading Rabbi Twerski’s commentary and in recalling my own experiences on Sunday, I can’t be sure anymore that anything in the Bible before about Acts 10 (this may be a slight exaggeration, since I think there are a few parts of the Old Testament that actually mentions the nations) can or should be applied to anyone who isn’t Jewish (i.e, “me”). Even thereafter in the New Testament, there are a series of “trap doors” as to who is being addressed, and the intended audience of the writer makes a great deal of difference in determining who can use the message.

For instance:

I must share this: I thought Matt. 24:45-51 was just about how we live our lives and how we can die any second. But after reading places like Malachi, it dawned on me that (while it may in fact be true secondarily that it is about our faith duties), the Master might be talking about the Levi in the Temple in terms of servants and vineyards and stewardship, etc. When you take the universality out of it, suddenly it makes sense why early Messianic Jews sacrificed if or if not the Shekhinah were there. And that absence of Shekhinah or Temple does not invalidate sacrifice; the Master is simply on a walkabout.

I didn’t see that one coming, either.

The venerable sage Yoda once told a talented but stubborn pupil, “You must unlearn what you have learned.”

I thought what I have learned in the past ten years or so was actually going to be helpful and useful when I went back to church. Now I realize it’s just getting in the way. Or maybe I should just keep my big mouth shut, but I’m discovering that’s easier said than done.

But if my past experience can’t be my teacher, is this all I’ve got left?

The greatest teacher in the world is known as: “Trial and error.” This has given more people more wisdom than any other teacher possibly could. “There is no greater wise person than someone with experience.”

What does it mean to have experience? It means that one has learned from trial and error. If everyone would get it right the first time, experience would not be needed.

Having the courage to try — even though you might make a mistake — enables you to learn from trial and error. This is a valuable reframe.

Instead of becoming overly frustrated or discouraged when you make a mistake, realize that you are now becoming wiser.

-Rabbi Zelig Pliskin
“Daily Lift #642, Learn from Trial and Error”
Aish.com

Wiser, huh? That’s like learning the layout of your brand new house by going in blindfolded and walking around, bumping into walls and furniture until you have everything, including the bruises, committed to memory.

If “unlearning” and “relearning” by trial and error (I think I know the “error” part fairly well) is going to be my primary method of “learning church,” then it’s going to continue to be very uncomfortable. It wasn’t that long ago that I said getting a few metaphorical bruises in church wasn’t the worst thing that can happen, and that’s still correct.

It just isn’t all that much fun, either.

I’m writing this on Sunday and still trying to process Sunday. If it seems like I’m repeating myself, that’s just me trying to find my way out of this loop of thought. I think I’ve said this before, but I didn’t realize how far it extended. I used to think that the entire Bible had something to say to just about anyone. Now I’m really realizing huge chunks of it probably don’t speak to me at all. Scripture then, is like a vast field full of treasure, but only certain bits and pieces can be utilized by me. The rest is intended for others and perhaps, even the parts that are meant for me, only tell me how I am to serve those others.

The lesson I learned at Sunday school may be more pointed than I first realized. Not only do I take the seat furthest from the head of the table so that the groom (Messiah) may have the best seat, but it is only for the purpose of serving the groom and his guests (the Jewish people) that I have been invited to the wedding feast at all.

Humbling to be sure. It is clear that I have much to learn…and unlearn. Dust and ashes indeed.

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43 Days: A Failing Grade in Community

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Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’

–Matthew 25:37-40 (ESV)

I just came back from a very interesting Sunday school class discussing Pastor’s sermon on Acts 7:44:53 and in fact, I really think I embarrassed myself.

I didn’t mean to, of course.

We were talking about how Christians might limit God and put Him, and our faith, “in a box,” so to speak. It was an extension of what we had learned about the Tabernacle and the Temples from today’s sermon (Pastor does believe that Ezekiel’s Temple will literally be built, which was a relief to hear). One woman in the class was discussing how our true duty as Christians is to believe, quoting from parts of John 6 and Christ’s “bread of life sermon.” I jumped in (and it wasn’t the first time I shot off my big mouth in class today) and said something about feeding the hungry, giving the thirsty something to drink, and visiting the sick, as evidence of our faith.

Then Charlie, the class teacher said something that stopped me cold.

He basically told me that he thought the “final judgment”section of Matthew 25 (specifically Matthew 25:31-46) has been misunderstood. He reminded me of something I had mentioned just a few minutes before; that Jesus was a Jew talking to other Jewish people. He said he understood from the passage that we Christians have a special duty to love the Jewish people and that how we Christians treat the Jews is how we shall be judged.

Wow.

He didn’t put it exactly in those words but like I said, it stopped me cold. I was being very gently rebuked for applying to humanity something that should only be applied to the Jewish people.

Like I said, wow! Really?

I still don’t think that we’re supposed to ignore the needs of a desperate world around us, but I suddenly saw those verses in a new light. I’ve never heard that interpretation before and I don’t know if anyone shares it, but it makes a sort of sense, particularly in light of some of what the “strict: form of Messianic Judaism teaches about the church’s duty to Israel and the Jewish people.

I feel like I really missed something and frankly, I feel pretty humbled (and not a little humiliated) by the whole experience. I have to admit that after some of the conversations I’ve had lately about how certain corners of Messianic Judaism tend to treat Christians like red-headed, left-handed, ne’er-do-well, mentally deficient, step-children, that I also fell into the trap of thinking I had a “leg up” on a few things, given my background. I failed not only at community but especially at humility.

But it’s so confusing because there seems to be such a mix of ideas, opinions, and interpretations going on, and a lot of it seems very traditionally Christian. Then I hit a major speed bump in my assumptions about the church environment I’m in and came to a complete halt. I guess this is something about me God wanted me to learn…and He chose a pretty public spot in which to teach it to me.

Fortunately, it happened near the end of class and I could beat a hasty retreat back to my car and home.

I had intended to write about how the Pastor interpreted the role of the Temple in Judaism, and especially his rather unique understanding of what Stephen was accusing the Sanhedrin of, relative to “putting God in a box.” But then my own failure in putting Christianity “in a box” took precedence, not just in failing to consider the consequences of the Matthew 25 teaching, but in daring to think I actually had something to contribute that might be new and interesting to the class. I was arrogant and I was wrong.

Oops.

When I was anticipating going to church this morning, I got a feeling of boredom, like I’d have to put up with a bunch of “Christianese” for the sake of reconciliation and community. Now I wonder if I should even go back, having stubbed my toe that badly. Maybe I have nothing to contribute at all. Maybe my personal, internal template just can’t be adjusted sufficiently to integrate with these people.

It’s 43 days until my self-imposed time limit, which seems like a goodly amount of time, but it also translates into a maximum of six more Sundays until the end of the year. Let’s figure that I won’t be going to services on December 23rd for obvious reasons, and that takes me down to five Sundays, each a maximum of three hours of exposure to this community. Fifteen more hours total. So far, not including my interview with Pastor Randy, I only have nine hours under my belt.

I took a risk today. I spoke my mind again in class. I really tried to keep quiet and self-contained in services, even sitting in the very back for fear of taking up someone else’s seat, but in class it’s harder because it’s interactive. Things seemed to be going well or at least “neutral” until that last string of words that came out of my mouth.

Like I said…oops.

Anyway, I have a week before I have to face my embarrassment again. We’ll see how it goes. After nine hours, I don’t feel any closer to this community than I did when I first walked in the door, apart from recognizing a few faces. Fifteen more hours to go until I have to make a decision. I might not go back at all except I set a time limit and I am determined to see it through. Maybe it would have been better if I knew nothing at all. Maybe it would have been better if I had a personality that was so shy that I could never speak in a group.

But if I keep my commitment to those last fifteen hours, will it really do any good? I just don’t seem to “do” community very well. There’s a saying attributed to Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens):

“It is better to have people think you a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.”

Today, I removed all doubt.

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43 Days: Dust and Ashes in My Own Universe

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I am but dust and ashes.

–Genesis 18:27

Everyone must say, “The world was created for my sake.”

-Sanhedrin 37a

Rabbi Bunim of Pshis’cha said that everyone should have two pockets; one to contain, “I am but dust and ashes,” and the other to contain, “The world was created for my sake.” At certain times, we must reach into one pocket; at other times, into the other. The secret of correct living comes from knowing when to reach into which.

Humility is the finest of all virtues and is the source of all admirable character traits. Yet, if a person considers himself to be utterly insignificant, he may not care about his actions. He may think, “What is so important about what I do? It makes no difference, so long as I do not harm anyone.” Such feelings of insignificance can cause immoral behavior.

When a person does not feel that his actions are significant, he either allows impulses to dominate his behavior or slouches into inactivity. At such a time, he must reach into the pocket of personal grandeur and read: “I am specially created by God. He has a mission for me, that only I can achieve. Since this is a Divine mission, the entire universe was created solely to enable me to accomplish this particular assignment.”

When presidents and premiers delegate missions to their officials, those officials feel a profound sense of responsibility to carry out the mission in the best possible manner. How much more so when we are commissioned by God!

Today I shall…

keep in mind both the humbleness and the grandeur of the human being.

-Rabbi Abraham J. Twerski
“Growing Each Day, Kislev 1”
Aish.com

I guess that answer a query I made recently.

Is it arrogant and self-centered to believe that God has a plan for my one, small, individual life? After all, there are billions of people who live on Earth today. Untold trillions and trillions of human beings have been born, lived, and died all throughout the history of the human race. Only a tiny, tiny fraction of them have been mentioned in the Bible (or any other holy book), and of those people, we sometimes don’t know which ones we can take as literally being real humans who lived real lives, vs. some unknown scribe somewhere writing an allegory about someone named “Job” to make a moral point.

Not only is it incorrect to consider ourselves to be insignificant as individuals, it could actually be sinful. Faith and trust in God includes the belief that we are not only significant, but possibly very important since we have been commissioned to perform deeds in the plan of God.

There’s a certain amount of “mysticism” in the statement, “[s]ince this is a Divine mission, the entire universe was created solely to enable me to accomplish this particular assignment.” At least from a human point of view, it is extraordinarily unlikely that the entire universe was created just for me to do whatever God put me here to do. I suppose if we start winding down the road of some serious metaphysics, it might be seen otherwise, but I don’t think my brain can bend in that direction.

So here we are (I am) performing a balancing act, again. Running on the edge of a razor blade, trying to keep my balance and avoid being sliced to ribbons (by concepts, consciousness, or other people). Is that too dramatic? Maybe not, if I’m trying to assess and moderate equal portions of humility and being an agent on a “Divine mission.”

But that may explain our different experiences when at times, nothing seems to go right, and at others, when nothing seems to go wrong. Paul’s infamous “thorn” in his side (2 Corinthians 12:7) was what balanced him out and we know that he really did have a Divine mission (see Acts 9). We have the Bible to tell us all about the details Paul’s mission and for a Christian, it’s almost “old news.” However, for the rest of us, our particular “mission” can seem like something of a mystery.

Oh, it gets worse.

How many Christians “feel” as if they have a mission. A lot of the time, it’s to go into the ministry. We Christians sometimes get this weird idea that only Ministers can minister. But what do we do that doesn’t minister if we’re doing God’s will?

Well, right now I know why I’m doing this. I’m doing this because enough people have told me it matters to them that I do this. If that’s also the voice of God, I’m fine with that, too.

That’s how I summed up my response to the question I asked myself the other day: “Why am I doing this?”

I suppose I could just need constant reassurance that I’m doing the right thing, but that’s no way to run a “ministry” let alone a life. There will always be times when there will be no reassurance, when it seems as if the whole world is against your (and my) Christian faith, and you (I) have to depend on whatever internal moral compass God has provided to continue the journey so that we are (I am) walking in the right direction.

Not that the right direction is always easy.

In 2008, Rabbi Gavriel and Rivkah Holtzberg were among 200 people killed when terrorists attacked Mumbai, India. The Holtzbergs selflessly ran the Chabad house, a beacon of hope and kindness in a city filled with poverty and despair.

Day in Jewish History: Kislev 1
Aish.com

Most of us won’t have to face death in the service of God. Most of us won’t have to face the death of loved ones in the service of God. Most of us won’t have to raise grandchildren because our children died in the service of God.

But it does give you pause. I mean, there’s no promise intrinsic to our faith and trust that limits how much God will ask of you (or me). Especially in the western nations, people of faith aren’t used to working really, really hard in the service of God, at least not most of the time. Sure, we may go on the occasional mission trip to a “third world country” and for a week or two, live in conditions that are a far cry from our comfortable homes in our middle-class suburbs.

But as you may have noticed recently, just being a Jew and living in or visiting Israel can be very dangerous. One of the horrible ironies of this latest terrorist attack was this:

The names of the three people who were killed Thursday by a rocket attack in Kiryat Malachi have been published, and one of whom, it was just discovered, was an emissary of Chabad involved in outreach in India, and was in Israel on a short visit in order to give birth and pay respects to the Chabad victims of the Mumbai terror attack in 2008.

Mirah (nee Cohen) Scharf, the 26-year-old victim of today’s attack, was a “shlucha (female emissary)” to New Dehli, India, visiting Israel for the memorial service of Gabi and Rivka Holtzberg, the Chabad emissaries who were victims of the Mumbai terror attack. The Hebrew anniversary of their brutal murder is today.

-Annie Lubin
“Mirah Scharf, Killed by Missile, Laid to Rest”
IsraelNationalNews.com

God, please be merciful to the injured and dying of your people Israel. Be merciful to those who live in harm’s way. Be merciful to the children who wake up every morning wondering if today they will be killed, and go to sleep each night fearing that they will be murdered in their sleep.

There were periods of time when R. Yekusiel Liepler, a chassid of the Alter Rebbe, davened Shacharit, Mincha and Maariv one right after the other; there was no time for intervals.

“Today’s Day”
Sunday, Kislev 1, Rosh Chodesh, 5704
Compiled by the Lubavitcher Rebbe
Translated by Yitschak Meir Kagan
Chabad.org

Compared to that, the uncertainty in attending a local church and sometimes being criticized for it doesn’t seem so intimidating.

Blessings upon Israel and her people, the children of Abraham, and of Issac, and of Jacob.

If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget its skill. Let my tongue adhere to my palate, if I fail to elevate Jerusalem above my foremost joy.

–Psalm 137:5-6 (Stone Edition Tanakh)

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46 Days: Why Am I Doing This?

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Well I’m no anti-church MG, and I am sure that’s what some people need; the addicted, desperate, people who just need a simple message and don’t want to trudge through miles of learning. I just don’t feel that I can identify with church very well anymore, learning aside. In fact, I never did in retrospect. It was only leaving church that made me realize how little I related to it all my life. A fish does not know it’s wet, I reckon.

I went back a few times to appease family on some occasions. Meh. Nice messages here and there and very nice people, but it still felt like it did years ago. It’s a very nice suit that does not fit me.

-A comment from a blog

While on vacation recently my Mom requested I go to church with her, since she visits synagogue with me when she visits it was only appropriate. Although I was not at home, there was still a message, it was positive, and I learned from it.

The church is not some area of non-intellectual ramblings. There is great scholarly work going on in the church and we would all do well to pay attention. It saddens me that so many in the Messianic movement are so elitist.

-A comment from Facebook

The concept of Divine Providence is this: Not only are all particular movements of the various creatures directed by Providence, and not only is that Providence itself the life-force and maintained existence of every creature – but even more, the particular movement of any creature is in general terms related to the grand design of Creation… The aggregate of all individual acts brings to completion G-d’s grand design in the mystery of all Creation.

Ponder this: If the swaying of a blade of grass is brought about by Divine Providence and is crucial to the fulfillment of the purpose of Creation, how much more so with regard to mankind in general, and Israel (the people close to him) (Tehillim 148:14; Siddur p. 36) in particular!

“Today’s Day”
Friday, Cheshvan 28, 5704
Compiled by the Lubavitcher Rebbe
Translated by Yitschak Meir Kagan
Chabad.org

I guess when you post your life in various online venues, anyone who can respond, will respond with their opinion on what you should do with your life, and what is wrong with the choices you’ve made thus far…regardless of which choices you’ve actually made. It’s as if I posted on Facebook, “I voted for Obama,” then everyone who is against Obama would tell me why that was a bad move…or if I posted “I voted for Romney,” then everyone who was against Romney would tell me why I am so foolish.

Oh, and then there’s God. I have no idea what God thinks of politics, but perhaps it’s not so arrogant and self-centered of me to imagine He thinks something about my decision to go back to church. I’m hoping that He thinks it was the right decision and moreover, I’m hoping that my decision is actually part of God’s plan for my life.

Is it arrogant and self-centered to believe that God has a plan for my one, small, individual life? After all, there are billions of people who live on Earth today. Untold trillions and trillions of human beings have been born, lived, and died all throughout the history of the human race. Only a tiny, tiny fraction of them have been mentioned in the Bible (or any other holy book), and of those people, we sometimes don’t know which ones we can take as literally being real humans who lived real lives, vs. some unknown scribe somewhere writing an allegory about someone named “Job” to make a moral point.

But if I didn’t believe that God has some sort of desire for my life and that being born wasn’t just a random event where genetic material from my parents got together as an act of chance, then it wouldn’t matter if I went to church or not, whether I read the Bible or not, and it wouldn’t matter whether I really did anything at all or not. God would paint the world with broad brush strokes effecting His will in the grand scheme, and the little swirls and blots made on the canvas by the microscopic, individual hairs in the brush would have absolutely no significance at all.

And yet, we microscopic, individual brush hairs that make our microscopic, individual brush strokes go to great lengths to try to convince one another that our theological or philosophical points of view are not only significant, but damn well important and even vital, not just to you and me, but to the ultimate destiny of the world and mankind.

Today, as I write this, Derek Leman has published a blog post called Not a Good Idea to Nullify the Jewish People. I happen to agree that we shouldn’t nullify (or murder or exterminate) the Jewish people too, but there are a lot of other folks, from Hamas terrorists to their American and European supporters, who disagree with me. It seems like most human beings find their significance in the destruction or marginalization of others. It’s probably always been that way.

Yesterday (again, as I write this), Leman published Encouragement for the Future of MJ, and I had this to say in response:

As far as Christians, the church, and reconciliation, you probably don’t want me to repeat myself here. Anything I have to say on the topic is currently being said on my own blog, particularly in the “Days” series. I guess you could call me a “Philo-Judaic Christian” (it still doesn’t sound right) who’s gone back to church, ultimately fulfilling the desires of Mark Kinzer and the other Jewish supporters of strict bilateral ecclesiology as well as the imperatives outlined in Boaz Michael’s soon to be published book Tent of David.

Kinzer and Boaz aside, the real reason I “went back to church” is because I think it makes my wife happy and I think that’s where God wants me to be right now. I have no idea what He’s up to, quite frankly, but I guess I’ll find out.

I’d like to think that I’m living a life in response to God, but I also can’t really help responding to other people. I must admit that a number of my decisions about how I express my faith are driven by being intermarried and my wife’s Jewish identity (but as Rabbi Kalman Packouz at Aish.com reminded me again this morning, my being intermarried is universally another bad thing about me from a Jewish point of view).

46 days. I’ve got 46 days. I know, the time limit is arbitrary. I set it because setting some future date that must arrive before making a decision prevents me from “pulling the plug” impulsively in an annoyed response to someone’s criticism. Setting it in the foreseeable future gives me time, but not an endless amount of time, to ponder, explore, and investigate the options that exist for me, but then demands that I finally choose one of those options.

46 days. The safest option is to wait for January 1, 2013, lock out comments on this blog (I still couldn’t bear to destroy it), remove the bookmarked links from my web browsers leading here, and then never come back. The safest option would be to delete my Facebook and twitter accounts, delete most of the extraneous blogs I sometimes use that most of you don’t know even exist, remove my presence from any other online venue I absolutely don’t need to be a part of, and then do whatever I feel I need to do outside of most people’s awareness and scrutiny. The only influences would be me, my family, and God (even though none of those influences are very clear regarding their intent).

I know a lot of you religious folks say stuff like, “Don’t listen to people, listen only to God,” but in real life, it’s not as easy as all that. I still live in a world of people and believe me, there are days when a nice, little cottage, isolated in a wooded area somewhere sounds amazingly appealing. No phone. No Internet. Just some books to read and a wood fireplace for atmosphere and warmth.

And God would still be there.

Where shall I go from your Spirit?
Or where shall I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me.
If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light about me be night,”
even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is bright as the day,
for darkness is as light with you.

–Psalm 139:7-12 (ESV)

Running out of timeOf course, as I’ve also been reminded, not everything Jewish people wrote to other Jewish people can apply to a non-Jewish person, even one who is in a covenant relationship with God through the Jewish Messiah (and plenty of folks have opinions about that, too).

Fortunately, there are also messages like this one:

Please don’t give up, because there is no place else to go in our area. I don’t know where my own journey will take me either, right now I don’t see it headed back to any church. I am watching what you do and how you handle the hurdles thrown in front of you.

I cropped out the rest of the email to preserve the privacy of the sender, but it was a nice message to read this morning.

46 days. I know, “Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God.” That’s how I remember Matthew 4:7 from childhood.

46 days. For better or for worse (or for both), other people are watching me. I don’t know why exactly, except that what I’m going through must be like what a lot of people are facing. They just don’t talk about it. I talk about it. I talk about it a ridiculous amount. Why am I doing this? I don’t always know.

Well, right now I know why I’m doing this. I’m doing this because enough people have told me it matters to them that I do this. If that’s also the voice of God, I’m fine with that, too.

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47 Days: Learning Humility

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Dear Rabbi:

I have a problem. It’s my ego.

I have been duly chiding myself and ever reminding myself that my accomplishments are only possible by G‑d’s good grace, so I should not feel any more accomplished than the guy next door.

But then I start wondering: am I never allowed to feel good about myself? How can you accomplish anything in this world if you never take credit for anything you do?

Answer:

You are not alone in this struggle. This balance between letting go of ego and maintaining a healthy sense of self-confidence is an issue for all of us, simply because we are human.

We have G‑d given talents for a reason: So we can refine them, develop them and use them in our daily lives to serve our Maker. G‑d gives us the tools, but utilizing them to their full potential is up to us.

So we should be thankful and happy that G‑d has given us our unique talents, for it means that He thinks we can develop them and do good things with them. He believes in us. And as we develop an understanding about G‑d and who He is, we can deepen our appreciation for His belief in us.

G‑d’s belief in us is even more apparent when we look at our weaknesses, for that’s where the real challenge lies. G‑d gave us these major challenges because He knows we have the ability to overcome them and succeed. Contemplating this fact will certainly result in a happy and self-confident attitude about oneself.

-Rabbi Avi Davis
“Without Ego, How Can I Feel Good About Myself?”
from “Questions and Answers”
Aish.com

So to keep me from becoming conceited because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from becoming conceited. Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

–2 Corinthians 12:7-10 (ESV)

All this sounds a lot like what I wrote about yesterday in relation to God’s sovereignty vs. our own over the world. Humanity went from being taken care of in creation to be the caretakers of creation because we desired it. We desired it more than we desired obeying God. Now, on the other side of the equation, we (well, those of us who are aware of God and His nature) realize that we really do need God and that the world is often too big for us to manage alone.

Well, anyway that’s how I feel. The world is too big for me to manage alone. Heck, even my life sometimes is to big and too messy for me to manage on my own. When don’t I plead to God to lend a hand (or two or five) in sustaining me and my family?

And yet amazingly, there are those, even in the community of faith, who don’t seem (at least in public) to have any concerns about their personal abilities whatsoever.

Even if the entire world considers you a tzaddik (pious and righteous), you should nevertheless think of yourself as if you were sinful.

-Niddah 30b

In 1965, I visited the Steipler Gaon, a sage whom people often consulted for medical advice. Since he had heard that I was a psychiatrist, he wanted to find out new developments in medications for mental illnesses. I related to the Gaon whatever I knew about the most recent advances.

“Is anything available that can cure someone from delusions?” he asked. I told the Gaon that delusions were very resistant to treatment, and that while antipsychotic medications could subdue overt psychotic behavior, the delusional thinking itself was difficult to eradicate.

“But what if someone has the delusion that he is the greatest tzaddik in the generation?” the Gaon asked. I could not restrain myself and laughingly replied, “No medication can cure that.”

The Gaon shook his head sadly. “Too bad,” he said. “That malady is so widespread.”

Delusions of any kind are a sign of mental illness. How sick a person must be to consider oneself a tzaddik, and how wise the Talmud was to caution us against developing such delusions!

Today I shall…

try to be honest with myself, and even if my behavior is such that people may think I am a tzaddik, I must not allow myself to be deluded.

-Rabbi Abraham J. Twerski
“Growing Each Day, Cheshvan 28”
Aish.com

This is certainly one delusion I don’t harbor within myself. I have great admiration for the tzaddikim who I encounter in both the Jewish and Christian communities (although I suppose truly righteous Christians would be referred to as “saints”). And yet there are some people, who are fortunately few in number in my corner of the blogosphere (at least since I’ve decided to respond to them differently) who seem to behave as if they were the most righteous people in our generation, apart from anything resembling humility.

There’s an irony here. I have found that those who have achieved great things and who are truly righteous before God are often quite humble. We see in Rabbi Twerski’s story that a man who may well have been one of the most righteous in his generation, did not desire to experience that awareness (I suspect he was speaking of himself and not others) and wanted to be “cured” of his “delusion.” Even Moses, the greatest of the Prophets, who lead millions of people through the wilderness for forty years and spoke “face-to-face” with God, was called the most humble man on the earth (Numbers 12:3).

Most of the time, truly accomplished individuals don’t have to go around telling everyone they are truly accomplished individuals, at least if they are secure in who they are (and secure in God). As we saw from the “Ask the Rabbi” question I quoted at the beginning of this missive, most of us (I include myself in this group) struggle to achieve a balance between humility and a sense of self-worth and accomplishment. And whenever one is in danger of becoming a little too arrogant as a tzaddik, as we see in Paul’s example, God provides a “thorn” or other reminder that he is (and we are) constantly dependent on the Providence of Hashem.

When we are aware of God and we become aware that we have a definite part in His plans for the world around us, sometimes there’s a temptation to take pride in that. It’s difficult for most of us to separate what God is doing through us and what we are doing ourselves. How are we to take pride and boast of God while not boasting of our own achievements?

For a true tzaddik, this doesn’t present much of a problem because they have reached such a spiritual level that their eyes are constantly on God and they can see it is His power and His will that is working in the world. The tzaddik is the instrument of that will, and it is the tzaddik’s job to take the talents God has provided him and refine them in the world for the sake of Heaven.

For the rest of us, we continually strive to realize what the tzaddik has learned. We must bend our will, submit to God, and refine our gifts without succumbing to self-pity, or out of a sense of victimhood, depression, because we feel we aren’t good enough as just who we are. On some occasions, it is exactly those individuals who have succumbed to their identity of “victimization” who appear, on the surface, to be the most arrogant and confident in who they are. In reality, they struggle a great deal (but in a futile way) to achieve a type of signficance from external situations which can only truly be achieved internally, between the person and God. Like Paul, we can only achieve significance in humility.

I have found a new sense of humility in my recent return to church and the challenges it has presented. I am in no sense the conductor of my own destiny within the church’s walls or within its community of souls. I am the recipient of acts of kindness and friendliness among hundreds of strangers who are also my brothers and sisters in Christ.

And yet, I haven’t “talked Christian” as such in many years, so each encounter is like visiting a foreign country for three hours a week and wondering how I can accomplish the “immigration” process to become a “citizen,” not of the Kingdom of Heaven, but of this particular body of believers.

In writing these words, I realize that one of the reasons God has put me where I am right now is to learn this very lesson. Whenever you encounter feelings of inadequacy, loneliness, isolation, and even embarrassment, stop for a minute or two and look at where you are and why you are there. Maybe it isn’t just a tough social situation or being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Maybe you are in the right place in God’s time. For me, I believe, at least for now, church is where God put me to listen, not just to Him, but to everyone else.

We learn humility and even some modicum of righteousness like we learn anything else…by the doing.

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49 Days: Changing into a Stranger

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“When he was forty years old, it came into his heart to visit his brothers, the children of Israel. And seeing one of them being wronged, he defended the oppressed man and avenged him by striking down the Egyptian. He supposed that his brothers would understand that God was giving them salvation by his hand, but they did not understand. And on the following day he appeared to them as they were quarreling and tried to reconcile them, saying, ‘Men, you are brothers. Why do you wrong each other?’ But the man who was wronging his neighbor thrust him aside, saying, ‘Who made you a ruler and a judge over us? Do you want to kill me as you killed the Egyptian yesterday?’ At this retort Moses fled and became an exile in the land of Midian, where he became the father of two sons.

“Now when forty years had passed, an angel appeared to him in the wilderness of Mount Sinai, in a flame of fire in a bush. When Moses saw it, he was amazed at the sight, and as he drew near to look, there came the voice of the Lord: ‘I am the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham and of Isaac and of Jacob.’ And Moses trembled and did not dare to look. Then the Lord said to him, ‘Take off the sandals from your feet, for the place where you are standing is holy ground. I have surely seen the affliction of my people who are in Egypt, and have heard their groaning, and I have come down to deliver them. And now come, I will send you to Egypt.’”

–Acts 7:23-34 (ESV)

As I write this, it’s early Sunday afternoon and not too long ago, I got home after church services and Sunday school. The Pastor’s sermon was on Acts 7:20-43 and focused on Moses. This is part of Stephen’s defense presented to the Sanhedrin in response to (false) allegations that he spoke against Moses, the Torah, and the Temple. But Pastor Randy didn’t really present it like a legal defense. He was teaching the congregation the story of Moses and he taught it using interesting tools.

OK, for the most part, he told it using Acts and we also read from Hebrews 11:23-27 as well as Joshua 1:5-9. But he also twice referred to the Talmud. Pastor didn’t cite the specific references, but he did point out something about how Jews see Moses and the Exodus, not just how Christians see Moses. I was favorably impressed. How many Baptist Pastors refer to Talmud and the Jewish perspective regarding anything we learn in church?

I was also impressed that he took the time to explain those paintings and statues of Moses that have him wearing horns on his head as the result of a translation error, and he described Moses returning from his encounters with God on Sinai as glowing so brightly that no one could bear to look at the light. He did refer to the giving of the Torah as “delivering the scriptures” but he also called those scriptures “living words.” In referring us to Joshua 1:5-9 he re-enforced (I don’t know how many people picked up on the implications) this high view of Moses and the Torah:

No man shall be able to stand before you all the days of your life. Just as I was with Moses, so I will be with you. I will not leave you or forsake you. Be strong and courageous, for you shall cause this people to inherit the land that I swore to their fathers to give them. Only be strong and very courageous, being careful to do according to all the law that Moses my servant commanded you. Do not turn from it to the right hand or to the left, that you may have good success wherever you go. This Book of the Law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it. For then you will make your way prosperous, and then you will have good success. Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.”

–Joshua 1:5-9 (ESV)

Verse 8 says, This Book of the Law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it. For then you will make your way prosperous, and then you will have good success.

A Baptist Pastor is saying that it’s a good thing for God to tell Joshua that he is to meditate on the Torah day and night, to be careful to obey what is written in it, and that doing so will bring success.

Wow.

Both the Pastor’s message and the Sunday school class based on that message focused on how Moses was denied by God entry into Israel because of his disobedience and for that to serve as a warning to us to be careful to obey God’s will for our lives.

If you recall, last Sunday I was more than a little “chatty” in Sunday school class and this past Sunday, I was much more restrained. I did directly answer one of the teacher’s questions, but other than that, I only spoke when engaged in light conversation, fulfilling my desire to listen and learn.

So far, the message I’m getting is one of humility, submissiveness to God, and love for other human beings. This message was consistently presented, even when the Sunday school teacher brought up the recent elections and even when he asked what our proper response should be if two gay people came into the church.

Like I said…wow.

People continue to be friendly. Complete strangers come up to me, introduce themselves (they apparently know who I am somehow) and tell me they’re praying for me. I was asked for my last name in Sunday school this time around (I think for attendance purposes), so now, in theory, I’ve become more “findable” if anyone decides to “Google” me. That means they can potentially find this series of “meditations,” which speaks a lot more about what goes through my head than I’ve exposed in the church community.

I know this is only my second week, but I was very aware of how “disconnected” I felt in church. Like I said, everyone is friendly and all, but I don’t actually know anyone, and they don’t know me. I’m not (yet) a part of the community. They aren’t really “friends” (let alone family) yet. I suppose that comes with time, and I haven’t had to enter into a completely new environment like this in a good, long while. After Sunday school class was over, all I had to do was leave. For me, there was no conversation, no activity, no relationship that was available that would have kept me at church five, ten, or twenty minutes longer.

I’m not sure what to do except keep going every Sunday (or most Sundays) and see what develops. For the first time, someone mentioned the kids rehearsing for the Christmas program, and I realized that a few of the Sundays coming up, I won’t be attending. I guess that’s one of the limits I’m putting on “community.”

Part of what we discussed in Sunday school (well, Charlie, the teacher, did most of the talking) was how Moses’ different experiences, particularly as a shepherd, changed him and prepared him for what he needed to do to lead the Children of Israel. Charlie asked if any of us had any experiences that were as drastic as going from a “prince” in a King’s palace to being a shepherd (I have, but I kept them to myself). He asked how the experiences God put in our lives changed us and prepared us for fulfilling our role in doing God’s will.

In remembering the lesson and looking at myself, I realize that in order to fit in and become a part of this community, I’ll have to change. I’m not sure how or into what or who, but something will need to progress within me that will be for my own good, even if I can’t see what it is right now.

May we have life in which God fulfills our hearts’ desires for good.

-Siddur

The followers of Rabbi Uri of Strelisk were all poor. When another Chassidic master visited him, he asked Rabbi Uri why he did not pray that his congregants become more prosperous.

Rabbi Uri called in a follower whose shabby clothing attested to his poverty. He said to him, “Now is a special moment of grace, and you will be granted anything your heart desires. Ask for whatever you wish.”

Without a moment’s hesitancy, the man said, “I wish to be able to say Baruch She’amar (the opening prayer of the morning service) with the same fervor as the Rabbi does.”

Rabbi Uri turned to his friend. “You see now for yourself!” he said. “They do not want riches. Why should I intercede to get them something they do not want?”

We ask God for many things, but most importantly, we should pray that He enlighten us what it is that we should pray for, lest we waste our prayers by asking for things that are not to our ultimate advantage and fail to ask for what is really essential.

Today I shall…

try to think about what it is that I really need and that is in my best interest, instead of focusing on things that may seem desirable but are really inconsequential.

-Rabbi Abraham J. Twerski
“Growing Each Day, Cheshvan 25”
Aish.com

This is where the “trusting God” part comes in (again). I have to trust that being here, in this church and with these people (who by and large, remain strangers to me) is the right thing to do and is what God wants me to do. I have to trust that whatever way I am to change, that I do so in God’s will and that I will change into more of who I’m supposed to be and not into a stranger to myself.

Moses was a “stranger in a strange land,” and God helped him to become more of who he needed to be, ultimately resulting in Moshe, the most humble man on all the earth, and the greatest prophet in Judaism. I am also a “stranger in a strange land.” Who am I going to be?