Tag Archives: Judaism

Torah Portion, Uncategorized

Waiting for Hope in the Abyss

1 Comment

AbyssRav Simcha Bunim of Peshischa, zt”l, taught great inspiration from a statement on today’s daf.

“A person who has sinned and fallen to the lowest place, banished from God’s presence, should also never despair. A sacrifice that was fitting but then lost its status is no longer accepted even if afterward it regained its original status. But Rav holds that if the animal is still alive, it is not rejected absolutely. This fallen soul is no different. As long as he has some chiyus, some vitality, it is always possible to start again and attain forgiveness. This is the deeper meaning of the words, ‘Forgive our sins for they are many.’ This can be also be read, ‘Forgive our sins, because the halachah follows Rav—that ba’alei chaim are not rejected.'”

The Lechivitcher, zt”l, offered a parable to help understand this better. “A Jew is like a valuable coin. Even if it rusts and has mud crusted over it, it still retains its original value. The owner must clean the coin by removing the rust and the caked mud, but once he does so it shines just the same as it did when it was new.”

Rav Moshe of Kovrin, zt”l, was once encouraging some young chassidim who were struggling in spiritual matters. “Even if one falls again and again—even one hundred times—he must strengthen himself again and again. It is incumbent upon us to always find a way to encourage ourselves again and again, until we climb out of our spiritual rut!”

Daf Yomi Digest
Stories Off the Daf
“Ba’alei Chaim”
Temurah 23

I always have to be careful when I generalize a Jewish commentary and try to apply it to Christianity. After all, the Rabbis didn’t produce these Dafs with Christians in mind and sometimes, the judgments and insights they generate are specifically not to be applied to non-Jews. However, when reading Derek Leman’s book review of Daniel Boyarin’s book The Jewish Gospels: The Story of the Jewish Christ, I found something interesting.

So, it might surprise you to know that Boyarin thinks Judaism and Christianity are compatible. His goal, stated on pages 6-7 is to help Christians and Jews to stop vilifying each other. He doesn’t follow Jesus and isn’t asking fellow Jews to do so. But he demolishes all ideas that Christian devotion to Jesus is contrary to Judaism or that Christianity is anything other than a Judaism to which mostly non-Jews have been drawn. Jews in the time of Jesus were looking, he says, for a divine messiah. And Jesus’ earliest followers were kosher Jews. The sad separation and enmity of Judaism and Christianity is something to get beyond, not something to perpetuate.

According to how I’m reading Leman (I haven’t read Boyarin’s book yet), Boyarin doesn’t see a severe “disconnect” between first century Jewish and Gentile worship of God through the “path” of “the Way”. But, as Boyarin declares, if Christianity is not directly contrary to Judaism, can I say the reverse, that Judaism is not directly contrary to Christianity? Further, can I stretch my metaphor to say that Jewish teachings are not directly contrary to Christianity?

You probably think I’m grasping at straws. On the other hand, let’s look at our “story off the Daf” again. What is the theme? That even the person who is most distanced from God because of their sin should not dispair and give up all hope of reconciliation. Doesn’t that sound like it could be a Christian theme as well?

Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. –Romans 5:3-5 (ESV)

For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that Day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing. –2 Timothy 4:6-8 (ESV)

I believe we who are Christians can take the same hope that, no matter how far we have fallen away from God, we can rise back up to Him, even as Rav Simcha Bunim teaches.

Yesterday, the Jewish world celebrated Purim, the commemoration of the victory of the Jewish people in ancient Persia over Haman’s plan of genocide. If you read the Book of Esther on Purim, you realized how desperate it was for the Jews and how hopeless everything seemed. Even after Esther revealed the evil Haman’s plot to King Achashverosh, it was not in his power to reverse his decree. The destruction of the Jews seemed inevitable. And yet, through the courage of Esther and Mordechai and the love of God for His people, the King granted the Jews the ability to fight back and to defend themselves.

Hopelessness was turned into hope and defeat was transformed into victory; a victory that is still commemorated many thousands of years later, for with God, all things are possible (Matthew 19:26). Although God is not explicitly mentioned in Esther, we know that He was there with Israel, defending them and encouraging them. It was a miracle that the Jews survived the enormous threat against them. It is always a miracle when the Jews survive, since often it is only God who is for them, and an entire world who desires that they perish. Remember this too, as you study the sin of the Golden Calf for this Shabbat’s Torah Reading. There is no failing or sin so great that you become irredeemable.

Yet most of God’s miracles are not in the realm of the supernatural. It was (seemingly) through very natural processes that the Jews were saved from the plan of Haman. Seas did not part. The earth did not stop rotating on its axis, Fire and destruction did not rain down from heaven upon the enemies of the Jews. So it is in our lives today, even in the most dire and hopeless of circumstances. You may not feel the hand of God touching you or see His finger writing in the dust, but He is there and while you live, there is hope, but only if you hope in Him.

The philosopher, when he sees a miracle, looks for a natural explanation. The Jew, when he sees nature, looks for the miracle.

-Rabbi Tsvi Freeman
“Unnatural Response”
Based on letters and talks of the Rebbe
Rabbi M. M. Schneerson
Chabad.org

Blessings and hope.

Uncategorized

Finding My Metaphor

11 Comments

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.

Uncategorized

Judaism Without Jewishness

11 Comments

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.”

 

Uncategorized

Is the Cross Holy?

Leave a comment

Today’s amud discusses the level of respect one should afford the bimah, aron and the sefer Torah.

A certain man’s niece married someone that he felt was below her. The uncle preferred to stay as far away as possible from the chosson and did everything he could to avoid him. Yet every time he got an aliyah, the uncle would follow the halachah and walk back to his seat using the longer route around the bimah, and this meant that he passed near the chosson’s place. He preferred not to even see him and now he was forced to walk past him! Since he was an important man in the community he was called up to the Torah fairly frequently and this became more than a passing annoyance.

After much thought, he figured he had a solution to his problem. He would walk back to his seat the way he came, but he would do so very slowly rather than take the longer route. Surely this was as much honor to the Torah as going the long way since he was taking at least as much time to return to his seat. After all, does it not say that one should rush to shul but leave in an unrushed manner?

But when he consulted with the Ben Ish Chai, the sage ruled this is absolutely prohibited. “You are definitely incorrect in your assumption that walking slowly to your place via the shorter way back is the same as taking the longer way with bigger steps. The proof to this is the words of the Rambam who writes that rushing or walking slowly does not have any relevance on our consideration of what is the short or long way to leave the Beis Hamikdash. The same holds true here.

He concluded, “Taking the longer way to one’s seat shows respect; any other way shows disdain no matter one’s pace!”

Mishna Berura Yomi Digest
Stories to Share
“The Respectful Route”
Siman 154 Seif 7

From a Christian point of view, this rather elaborate response to the respect and sanctity shown to holy objects in Judaism may seem rather excessive. While Catholicism and other Christian traditions maintain a number of holy objects that must be treated with sanctity, Protestant Christianity has few if any such items.Perhaps the sanctuary itself is considered holy or the baptismal font. Some Christians consider their personal Bibles to be holy objects and will treat them with care (although this isn’t consistent across all Christians in all churches).

What else? Anything?

How about the cross?

I pass a number of churches when I travel to and from work each day. One church, just a few minutes from my home, has a large cross mounted on their grounds outside the church building. Since the church is located near a major intersection, the cross is visible to thousands and thousands of drivers every day. How much holiness should this cross, or any cross, afforded? Should a cross be afforded respect and sanctity as an object that is holy to God?

I don’t know.

The reverence shown the cross was always a little mysterious to me, even when I attended the church. I’m sure I’m not the first person to notice that a great deal of attention is being paid to an object that was used to kill a lot of people in ancient times. The “execution stake” used by the Romans to do away with criminals was not exclusive to Jesus. Who knows how many thieves and murderers and political dissidents met their lingering and horrible end nailed to this gruesome thing?

I’m not completely naive, and I realize it is the symbolism of the cross that has meaning in Christianity, not the physical object itself. Of course, we also have this:

And he said to all, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.” –Luke 9:23 (ESV)

It is clear that the Master also used the cross as a symbol of self-sacrifice and even as representing an aspect of discipleship, so maybe I’m way off base in even raising this question. I expect to be criticized by more than a few people for using this topic as my morning meditation, but in reading and studying about the holy objects in Judaism, it seemed to be a logical extension of my current thoughts. Also, in studying both last week’s Torah Portion and this week’s, the mention of holy objects is extremely prominent (especially considering the “incident of the Golden Calf” and how Israel believed paying homage to an object was an appropriate way to worship God).

But even if you, as a Christian, consider the cross as holy or even a church as holy, not everyone shares your opinion.

Today’s amud discusses things which are unusable for holy purposes because they are disgusting.

Beis Medrash Hagadol on the East Side of New York was confronted with a serious problem. They were required to find new premises in the area but the only place for sale was an apartment that had been used as a church for several years. Although Rabbi Avraham Yosef Asch knew that many authorities prohibit this in general, here the structure had been a regular apartment which had not originally built for religious purposes. In addition, the prior tenants had not brought in idols or icons of any sort. Nevertheless, they asked the Binyan Tzion if this was permitted.

The Binyan Tzion ruled decisively. “It is certainly not prohibited to purchase the property, since one can buy a place used for idolatry for his personal use. The moment he sells the property he has nullified the idolatrous use of it and it is permitted.

“However, there is a dispute whether a house of idol worship that has been nullified is considered disgusting for use as a shul and the like.”

Mishna Berura Yomi Digest
Stories to Share
“The Former Tenants”
Siman 154 Seif 12

I suppose it’s not comfortable for most Christians to consider the thought that many religious Jews would see their churches as places of “idol worship,” and perhaps even too “disgusting” to be used for Jewish worship. However, I often write about the “intersection” between Gentile Christian worship of Jesus and Jewish worship of Jesus, or Yeshua, as Messiah. Fundamentally, the Christian and Messianic Jew worship the same God and give honor to the same Messiah. But the cross that the Christian holds so dear may not be seen as holy and precious by the Jew who, though Messianic, has endured the memories how the cross was used for thousands of years as a symbol of persecution, exile, and even death.

I’m not saying that the cross has that meaning in the church today, but old wounds heal slowly. If you beat a man often enough with a baseball bat, pretty soon, all you have to do is show the man the bat in order to get him to cringe.

The Torah, including the portions of Exodus that are currently being studied in the synagogue, is very specific about the exact nature and character of objects that are considered holy to God. The cross isn’t one of those objects considered holy anywhere in the Bible. Nevertheless, I often miss the point, according to some of my critics, so I’m willing to admit that I may be missing something here.

Answer me if you can and are willing, because I don’t know. Is the cross a holy object in the church? Is it holy to God? Are we, as disciples of the Master, to afford it sanctity? And how should Jewish believers in Jesus as the Messiah view the cross?

Everything Man is given comes in a finite package. Even the tablets Moses carried down from Mount Sinai were defined and bounded.

And so, when G-d saw Moses mourning over the broken tablets, He said, “Your powers were focused when you smashed the tablets. For now you will receive a Torah you may extend wider than the sea.”

When Man fails, he shatters the treasures G-d has put in his trust. But then he cries and picks up the shards to restore what he has ruined.

That is when he discovers that G-d Himself was hidden inside.
He discovers the Infinite.

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

If the cross of Christ were smashed, would we find that its pieces contain the infinite light of Jesus?

divinity

The Glorious Branch

Leave a comment

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.

Uncategorized

Waiting in a Minefield

2 Comments

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?