Tag Archives: identity

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The Long Flight Home

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There are two places to find the divine presence in all Her glory.

One: In the most holy of chambers, beyond the place of light and heavenly incense. There She is found by the most perfect of beings at the most sublime apexes of time.

The other: Beyond catacombs and convoluted mazes deep within the earth’s bowels. There She is found by those whose faces are charred with the ashes of failure, their hands bloody from scraping through dirt and stone, their garments torn from falling again and again and their hearts ripped by bitter tears.

There, in that subterranean darkness, they are blinded by the light of the hidden things of G-d, until that Presence will shine for all of us, forever.

So it is for the human spirit, and so it was in Solomon’s temple. There are two places for the Holy Ark: One in the chamber of the Holy of Holies; and one deep beneath that chamber, for us to find now.

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

We should expect holiness in the most holy of places, in the midst of the Heavenly Temple of God. But how can we expect to find holiness in the darkest and most dismal abyss under the earth or in the darkest heart of man? Of course, if holiness is present there, then the darkness can no longer be dark.

Or can it?

In Judaism and particularly through the philosophy of the Chabad, each of us contains a spark of the divine; of heaven come down to earth, which gives us our own unique identity and purpose. This spark is forever seeking its heavenly source, which is probably why, often against our human will, we find ourselves inexorably searching for God, so that our spark may return to Him.

I’ve recently been exploring the humanity of Jesus and have encountered some occasional resistance to my considering the “flesh” along with the spirit, but if God is One and we are, in some sense, part of God, even as Jesus was and is, then can we always separate the physical and the ethereal? Rabbi Freeman comments:

Yes, G-d is one. But, to share an analogy from the Maharal of Prague, from a simple point an infinite number of lines may be drawn through infinite dimensions.

So, too, with that divine spark within: On the one hand it is the same simple point within each one of us. Yet how that point expresses itself within you—another facet of the diamond, another ray of the light—that is unique. Both aspects, the point and its expression, are equally divine.

There’s no way to resolve this in some sort of mechanical sense or by use of a formula or diagram. This relationship within our human existence that connects to God exists, otherwise I would hardly be so obsessed with discussing it, yet I have no ability to explain the connection. The light is there in my inner darkness and it’s doing something, but I don’t know what it is, because I can’t clearly see it.

As I review my recent “meditations,” I find I’ve been writing about this a lot in one way or another. I have written of our human limits in exploring knowledge of God and how, though we are holy, can desecrate not only God, but ourselves.

Recently, I discovered that my original purpose and goal in creating this specific blog was completely in vain, and now I turn to God not knowing what to expect, and wondering if I should expect anything at all. I’ve even gone so far as to ask, in a completely Christian venue, if it’s possible for someone like me to find a church in which I, with all of my theological idiosyncrasies, could ever be at home (so far, it hasn’t worked out very well).

For many years, I called myself “Messianic,” but found that many Jews in the Messianic Jewish movement, to which I had once thought myself attached, objected to a non-Jew identifying himself as such. The Jews in Messianic Judaism saw me as a Christian, and my Jewish wife and children see me as Christian, in spite of my atypical beliefs. When I created this blog, I was determined to honor how they see me and to distance myself from anything that might cause them discomfort, and I agreed to call myself a Christian. I also felt that, if I wanted to reach a wider audience, which is part of the goal of this blog, I should attempt to reconnect with the larger body of Gentiles who call upon the name of Jesus.

So I’m a Christian.

But I wonder now if any of that matters. No, I’m not going back to calling myself “Messianic” or any variation on that theme. If indeed, it is a designation that is uniquely Jewish, I am content to leave it in that place and for those people who were called to the Creator and chosen at Sinai. But in leaving that behind, (if it was ever truly mine in the first place) I find, like fictional author George Webber (in Thomas Wolfe’s novel), you can’t go home again. I have no choice but to proceed forward into the dark unknown and seek a future to which I am blind.

And yet, if I dare the conceit of believing that the divine spark exists in me too, then the light must be there illuminating my darkness, though I can see nary a glimmer. If the spark exists, then does it conclude within me as Rabbi Freeman describes?

These two facets of the divine spark are expressed in every mitzvah: On the one hand, the act of the mitzvah is the same for each person–corresponding to the simple, essence-point of the soul. But the mental focus and passion you invest into the mitzvah, that is uniquely yours, expressing the unique mission of your soul.

Spiritual or “fleshly” (the latter being considered with disdain by many disciples of Christ) seem to be interchangeable in Jewish thought, like matter and energy in the realm of physics. In Judaism, you connect to the holy by performing “worldly” charity. I suppose it’s not as noble as prayer, laying tefillin (though this is a physical act), or singing the ancient Hebrew prayers, but it is something that is as accessible to me as to any of you reading this, or to any person who really can see only their holy light and nothing of their darkness.

Part of this blog, and my previous writing attempt, was to reinvent myself to be more consistent with how my understanding in God was being reinvented. Now I find that there is no rest for the “legless bird” and I must still continue to soar and search and continue to reinvent and reconfigure who I am and who I am in Him.

But to reverse causality, I’m going to ask the question that Rabbi Freeman already (supposedly) answered:

If the core of my being is a “spark of G-d,” then where is the me in me?

Is there a “me” in my or, as Rabbi Freeman also has said, there is only a “me” in the doing of mitzvot?

What is divine wisdom?
Divine wisdom is the inner delight of the Infinite, condensed and crystallized until fit for human consumption.

What is a mitzvah?
A mitzvah is divine wisdom condensed and crystallized until it can be performed as a physical action.

That is why in the study of Torah there is infinite delight.
That is why in the act of a mitzvah there is unlimited joy.

—Maamar Arbaah Rashei Shanim Heim, 5731

Somewhere in each of us, there is a spark of holiness. Somewhere in the holiness, is a lost human being, struggling in the glare and the abyss, trying to find his way, his face, and his name.

Somewhere in the sky, there is a bird, like the dove of Noah, soaring over an endless sea searching for a place to land and rest. Does the bird search in vain, as do I?

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Who Am I Now?

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At the event I took the opportunity to ask Rabbi Boteach a question having to do with historical context. I challenged him over his claim that Christians seeing the Jewish Jesus would lead to a more human understanding of Jesus, which in turn would lead to a more tolerant Christianity. My problem with such a claim is that we have ample historical precedent from the history of Jewish-Christian relations that an emphasis on the humanity of Jesus does not necessarily lead to greater tolerance of Jews. On the contrary, it can lead to anti-Semitism by focusing attention on the cause of Jesus’ suffering. This was the case during the high Middle-Ages. Christians “discovered” the humanity of Jesus. This led to a plethora of artwork showing Mary with baby Jesus actually drawn with baby features and gave us the Christmas creche we have today. This also led to an emphasis on Jesus’ physical suffering on the cross. The divine Jesus could never possibly feel pain; only the human Jesus could suffer. Rabbi Boteach response was that the Jews were not responsible for the death of Jesus, the Roman were. This is in fact a major point of his book. While this answers the question whether Christian readers will take Rabbi Boteach’s arguments to anti-Semitic conclusions, it does not answer the question I was asking of why we should be willing to draw a straight line between a human Jesus and a tolerant Christianity when historically this has not necessarily been the case.

“Kosher Jesus’ Lack of Historical Context”
Book review of Rabbi Shmuley Boteach’s Kosher Jesus
from Izgad

This isn’t a review of Boteach’s book Kosher Jesus from a Christian point of view, but reading it did make me start to think about the “Christian point of view” and whether or not I actually have one. I don’t. I realized in reading this blog post that I haven’t the faintest idea how “traditional Christians” see the world, at least from an actual “lived” experience, even though I call myself a Christian.

So why do I call myself a “Christian?”

Frankly, for lack of any other way to describe myself as a person of faith. My wife, who is Jewish, considers me a Christian. Everyone who I know who is Jewish considers me a Christian. Ironically, many of the Christians I know call me a “Messianic Jew.” I find this last part rather surprising (and uncomfortable) since, not being Jewish, I can’t be any sort of “Jew,” Messianic or otherwise. According to many Messianic Jews I know, I can’t be “Messianic” either, since being “Messianic” is considered a Jewish designation. Technically, as far as it’s been explained to me, the Gentiles cannot have a “Messiah” as such. We can have a Savior, or Lord, or Prince of Peace, but the Messiah came for “the lost sheep of Israel.”

I call myself a “Christian” to try and avoid any confusion about who I am. I am not a Jew so calling me a “Messianic Jew” is completely inappropriate. Calling myself a Christian announces that I am a Gentile who believes in Jesus Christ, just as millions and millions of Gentiles have been Christian across the vast expanse of history. Since I”m also vehemently non-supersessionist, I am also at odds with some and perhaps many other Christians, which is one of the reasons why I don’t go to church.

Even though some Jewish people consider me “Judaically-oriented” or having a heart and mind for Judaism, it has occurred to me lately (and again, referring back to the Izgad review of Kosher Jesus), that I might not fit all that well into a Jewish setting, either. It’s one thing to read and study Jewish commentary and studious texts and another thing entirely to be part of a community. It occurs to me that when my wife says the Rabbis at the local Reform and Chabad synagogues “tolerate” the presence of Christians in their midst (as long as they don’t try and proselytize the Jews at shul), that “tolerate” may be in the sense of tolerating a splinter under your fingernail or the discomfort caused by a repetative motion injury. You can handle it being around, but it’s not exactly enjoyable…and it would be a relief when the thing you are “tolerating” is finally gone.

That’s my projection, of course, but I think it’s reasonable. In reading Jacob Fronczak’s blog post Why I Go to Church, part of what he is saying is that he must “tolerate” some aspects of church communal life. It’s not perfect and it’s not going to be. That would be true for me as well if I were to attend a church (though I suppose they’d have to learn to “tolerate” me if I ever chose to actually open my mouth and say what I was thinking). To emphasize my “differentness” from how “regular” Christians think, I have to say I’ve received my first criticism on my recent article Origins of Supersessionism in the Church. My critic, a Christian, and a person I have no reason to believe is anything but honest, sincere, and well-grounded in the faith, states that many of the historical wounds between Messianic Judaism and the church are well on their way to healing at this point in our relationship, but the tone and attitude of my article, has resulted in ripping open some of the scars and pouring salt into the reopened injuries. I don’t seem to be doing “Christian” very well.

So if I’m a Christian, it’s because the label is the closest and most accurate approximation that represents my faith, but I’m a Christian who would not easily fit into either a church or synagogue setting. I’m nearly nine months into my current “experiment,” the primary goal of which was to join with my wife and, as a married couple, worship together within a Jewish context. It hasn’t worked out well thus far. With just a little more than three months left before I decide to continue toward my goal or to pull the plug for good on my hopes, it has become increasingly unlikely that I will achieve anything I started out aiming for.

I don’t actually have to confront the “where do I go from here” question until the end of May or perhaps early June (and keep in mind these time frames are completely arbitrary and self-assigned), but it’s not too early to start thinking about the question. If I had to frame an answer today, I would have to say that there are no options for community that meet my requirements. Facing that would mean facing the consequence of having no tangible faith community for the long term and possibly for the rest of my life.

I don’t fit in. Even if I did find a community where I personally fit in, chances are very high that my wife wouldn’t, and one of the primary requirements for achieving my goal is to worship with my wife. If someone were to offer me a practical option for community that fit me personally “hand in glove,” it would still be lacking if it didn’t fit my spouse as well.

So, who am I? I’m a Christian who doesn’t think very much like a Christian but to be honest, I don’t think very much like a Jew either. I’m the fish in the game Marco Polo who is always “out of water”. If I can’t say that I’m a “freak of nature” I have to say that I’m probably a “freak of faith.” I’m not trying to sound pathetic, but this blog is centered on my “experiment” so it represents, among other things, a chronicle of my progress or lack thereof.

Oh, interesting thing about the reviews of the Boteach book. I’ve found numerous Jewish and Messianic Jewish book reviews, but I have yet to find even one single review written by a Christian. If Rabbi Boteach had hoped to reach not only the Jewish community, but the church with his book, he doesn’t seem to have achieved his goal either, at least up until now.

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The Focus and the Lens

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The Sichos HaRan, zt”l, explains how fortunate we are to have received the Torah. “Non-Jews who did not receive the Torah have no idea how to act. A non-Jew who wants to discover the meaning of life must search for the truth and has very little chance of finding it. Jews are very fortunate, since God gave us the Torah which reveals exactly how we should act in any given situation. We can focus all of our energies on fulfilling the Torah instead of squandering them in an attempt to determine what to do.”

Daf Yomi Digest
Stories Off the Daf
“God’s Charity”
Arachin 8

I have a difficult time understanding how the Sichos HaRan, zt”l can make such a statement and yet still call God charitable. After all, is God not the God of the Jew and the non-Jew alike? He makes it sound as if God left the Gentile people of the nations “hanging out to dry,” so to speak. In fact, even from a traditional Jewish point of view, it’s not that way at all.

Most religious Jews believe that God gave “the rest of us” the Seven Noahide Commandments which guide us along a path of Godly living. Of course, when you compare a mere seven laws to the 613 commandments that Jews believe comprise the Torah, it’s easy to believe that the Gentiles got the short end of the stick. After all, as the “story off the daf” points out, the level of detail in the Torah commandments, describe for the Jew “exactly how we should act in any given situation.” That’s not literally true of the written portion of the Torah, but once you factor in the Mishnah, Talmud, and Gemara, an astounding and even overwhelming amount of information is provided about every conceivable situation in which a Jew may find himself.

Even if you believe that the seven Noahide laws can be expanded out to 80 or 90 more detailed commentaries, it still seems like we don’t have nearly the same amount of Heavenly direction given to us as the Jewish people enjoy. If you’re an atheist, you probably couldn’t care less, and enjoy the type of freedom a secular world view provides. If you’re a traditional Christian, this only confirms what you’ve been taught about the freedom that the grace of Jesus Christ offers, and how the “chains” of the Law can no longer hold you (not that they ever applied to you in the first place).

Yet, as I have been reminded recently, for a number of Christians, the “grace of Christ” doesn’t seem to be enough. There’s a sort of “emptiness” some people feel in the church, as if a man starving for meat and potatoes is given only a can of soda pop for lunch. Lots of “fizz” but no substance. For these Christians, the substance seems to be found in Judaism and among some of these folks, Judaism becomes the focus, leaving God and faith in the Messiah in the dust.

I’m a Christian who, as you know if you’ve been following this blog for very long, chooses to view my faith in Christ through a Jewish lens (if such a thing is possible). However, it took me years to be able to distinguish the lens from the focus of the lens. The lens is the means by which I look at the Messiah and gaze at the image of God. The focus is the Messiah who leads me on the path of righteousness to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. It’s important not to confuse the two.

I sometimes think even people in the traditional church suffer from this confusion. The theology, the music, the church programs, and even grace, all seem to substitute for the substance of God. Maybe that’s why people leave Christianity and either apostate completely or seek some aspect of Judaism onto which they can attach. However, since this type of confusion can strike at the Christian either in the church or in the synagogue, it’s not the religion that’s the problem, it’s the people. More specifically, it’s how people understand what they have faith in. Do you have faith in Christianity or in God? Do you have faith in Judaism or in God? Who or what do you worship and why? Do you even know if you are worshiping a thing rather than the Creator of the universe?

I’ve seen non-Jews in “Messianic” or Hebrew Roots groups who became totally enamoured with wearing a tallit gadol and kippah, praying with a siddur, and learning Hebrew. Nothing is necessarily wrong with using holy objects in the practice of your faith, but there is something terribly wrong if you wake up one morning and realize that its the objects you’re really worshiping. It’s even worse if you are worshiping the objects and never actually realize it.

There are non-Jews including some Christians, who convert to Judaism for various reasons and I am not here to question those decisions. However, I am concerned with those Christians who, in seeking the Jewish Jesus in the synagogue, lose sight of him completely, and convert because they have started worshiping Jewishness.

Any Christian who is worshiping and studying in a Jewish venue needs to periodically take one giant step backward and examine what they are doing and why. If you know your eyes need to be on the Messiah at all times but his “image” is becoming increasingly fuzzy, you may have allowed something to get in between you and him. If your lens has become your focus, stop everything, take a break, and get some fresh air. A life of study contains many details and a great deal of information, but at its core, a life of holiness is not complicated. It’s a simple as praying and can easily begin with the words, “Our Father Who is in Heaven…”

Never forget who you are and who He is to you.

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Why Are We Who We Are?

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Who am IA certain man wondered why the mussar works make such a big deal about rectifying one’s character traits. “After all, the Torah hardly deals with this area. Doesn’t that mean that middos are less important than mitzvos?” he posed.

Rav Chaim Vital, zt”l, rejected such reasoning out of hand, however. “Middos are the most important aspect of a person since without good middos it is impossible to observe the Torah properly. Conversely, if one has good middos he will have an easy time fulfilling the mitzvos, as is fitting.”

Daf Yomi Digest
Stories off the Daf
“Limbs of the Spirit”
Chullin 56

I wake up in the morning with the knowledge that my unique opportunities will be used to convey my individual personality in the places I find myself, thus inspiring the people around me.

-from the Jewish Learning Institute course
“Toward a Meaningful Life”

This is a continuation of the series of blogs I’ve been writing based on the JLI course Toward a Meaningful Life. If you haven’t done so yet, please review yesterday’s installment, Who Are We to God, then return here and continue reading.

Mitzvos vs. Middos. Mitzvos can be thought of as obedience to God’s commandments or performing acts of charity and righteousness. Middos are basically personality traits. Let’s take a look at the statement I quote from the JLI course “Toward a Meaningful Life”, focusing on just a few words:

I wake up in the morning with the knowledge that my unique opportunities will be used to convey my individual personality in the places I find myself…

According to Rav Chaim Vital, my personality traits (your personality traits, anyone’s personality traits) are more important than the acts we perform. Here’s why:

The Alter of Kelm, zt”l, expands on this point. “Just as a person was created with physical abilities that are manifest through the activity of his physical organs, so too does he possess spiritual abilities that are articulated through the middos. His spiritual strengths include the desire for truth and to hate lies; feeling disgusted with injustice; love and humility; a good eye; a modest spirit; love and fear of God and many others. Since we see that people have these middos we understand that these are spiritual attributes that we were created with, just like we were endowed with physical ones. And just like the lack of an essential physical organ renders an animal a treifah, the same is true regarding these character traits. One who lacks one is like a person who has no lungs or kidneys.”

He goes on to say that, “How great is a person who uses his middos single-mindedly to serve God! How much more can he accomplish! And how great is a household that focuses on serving God. The more people who bind together to serve God, focusing on the same goals, the more they can accomplish.”

There’s a certain assumption being made here. The assumption is that all people have the same basic raw materials or personality traits that enable them to serve God in the same way (at least that’s how I’m reading it). Look at the Alter of Kelm’s list:

  • The desire for truth and to hate lies
  • Feeling disgusted with injustice
  • Love and humility
  • A good eye (generosity)
  • A modest spirit
  • Love and fear of God

The question is, does everyone come equipped with these personality traits; these built-in characteristics that are available for use in the service of God?

I don’t think so.

DirectionsI don’t think everyone just naturally has a modest spirit. I don’t think all human beings everywhere spontaneously experience love and humility. Certainly we see evidence in both current events and human history of an abundant lack of love and fear of God in many people.

So does that mean only people who have these natural personality traits (provided by God) can love and serve God? If that were true, it would mean that God has pre-selected His people, those who will be “saved”, using the Christian term, just by creating those people and “wiring” and “programming” them to naturally possess the qualities in the aforementioned bullet list. Everyone else is doomed to failure, right out of the starting gate.

OK, lets assume that’s not true. Let’s assume that it’s possible for people who aren’t naturally inclined to love God, be modest and humble, and who don’t innately desire truth to still turn to God, to learn to love Him, and then learn to serve Him. How is this done?

As it turns out, there’s no end to ways to improve your middos. A quick Internet search yielded quite a few. Examples include Tefillah – When Your Situation Doesn’t Change, Rabbi Forsythe on Perfecting Your Relationships and Self, and The Yeshiva World News discussion topic how do you improve your middos?. In fact, the Mussar movement has existed in Judaism since the 19th century and is “devoted to character and behavioral improvement”, according to Rabbi Ephraim Becker. Probably one of the best known modern texts on Mussar is Alan Morinis’s book Everyday Holiness: The Jewish Spiritual Path of Mussar. Face it. The Jewish “self-improvement” business is booming.

It seems, despite how the matter of middos was presented in the “Story off the Daf”, there is a significant acknowledgement in Judaism that not all people are “created equal” in terms of “positive” personality traits. Some of us have to face the challenge of overcoming our natural tendencies that lead us away from God, in order to turn to Him and to serve Him and the people around us.

While writing this blog, the thought of being made a certain way and having that be immutable stirred up some rather compelling and disturbing thoughts. If, as was suggested in the Daf, people are all created with the same set of positive qualities and the only difference between people is how we use them, then it would mean people are making very radical decisions. If everyone, literally everyone, is born with an innate love for God, where do atheists come from? If we are all born to be naturally generous, why does personal and corporate greed run rampant in the world? If we all burn with a desire for truth and we hate lies, why are so many people liars?

When the Alter of Kelm says that our personality traits stem from our spiritual gifts, and compares them to our physical attributes, I can’t help but think that physically, we aren’t all the same. Some people are gifted athletes while other people are terribly disabled. If lacking some of these essential spiritual traits is like being born with a severe physical handicap, and we know that some people are born this way, then are some human beings by their very nature, spiritually crippled? Is that how we answer the questions I asked in the previous paragraph? Does this explain how people who are gay or transgender, for example, can truthfully say they were “born this way”?

Those questions and the potential answers suggest startling issues about the nature of God, man, and reality.

We have to be more or at least different than the sum of our parts, or there is no hope for repentance. It would mean that God is setting significant portions of humanity up for failure by creating standards and goals they (we) couldn’t possibly meet.

From time to time, I do encounter someone who really does seem naturally cheerful and giving. A person who just “innately” loves God and other people. Someone who seems to be just “made” to serve God. I don’t meet many people like that, even in the community of faith. Why does doing good to others and loving God seem so hard for so many people, even when they…we desire it with all our hearts?

Who are we really? Are we only the way we were born and can’t become anything more? Why are we who we are?

To keep reading in this series, go to the next “morning meditation” Time is the Fire.