Sukkot: The Lord Dwells with Us

Sukkot

Sukkot 5787, Leviticus 22:26-23:44

Rabbi Jude, Kol Mashiach, Melbourne, Florida

Sukkot arrives each year as the last of the fall holidays, the last of the appointed times found in Leviticus chapter 23, and the last of the Shalosh Regalim, the three pilgrimage festivals. While it would be impossible to explore in depth all of the rich spiritual significance and meaning of this holiday, I hope to touch on some key points: the joy of Sukkot, the idea of Hashem dwelling with us, and how Sukkot is a fulfillment and redemption holiday. Within all of these points, we will see a picture of our Messiah Yeshua. 

The Joy of Sukkot

In ancient Israel, the people were farmers whose livelihood was tied to a good harvest season. Sukkot falls at the time of the final harvest and is the season of ingathering, when you reap what you have sowed all season. We sing Psalm 118 during this time, which says “Give thanks to the Lord for he is good!” We wave the four species – the lulav, hadas, arava and etrog (branches of palm, myrtle and willow, plus a citron) –  which symbolize the harvest and our thanksgiving and worship of the Lord. As we remember our ancestors’ harvest at this time of year, we can imagine how joyous it was for them to reap what they had sown. In fact, one of the many names for this holiday is Z’man Simchatenu – the time of our joy. 

During the time of the second temple, there was a ritual called the water-pouring or libation ceremony. This event happened on Hoshanah Rabbah, the last and greatest day of Sukkot. The priest would take a water pitcher to the Pool of Siloam in Jerusalem and dip it into the water. Then the priest would bring the pitcher back to the temple, circle the altar, and then pour the water on the altar. Crowds of people would follow the priest’s journey back and forth, singing the Hallel (Psalms 113-118). In the Talmud (tractate Sukkah 51a), it says, “one who did not see the Celebration of the Place of the Drawing of the Water never saw celebration [joy] in his days.” We see the words of the prophet Isaiah come to life here: “With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation” (Isaiah 12:3).

When Yeshua was in Jerusalem attending the water libation ceremony on Hoshana Rabbah, he attributed these waters of salvation to himself:

On the last day of the feast, the great day, Yeshua stood up and cried out, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’” (John 7:37-39)

So, during this joyous holiday of Sukkot, we also remember the joy we have in knowing Yeshua the Messiah – our living water.

The Lord Dwelling with Man

During Sukkot, we are instructed in Torah to dwell in temporary structures or booths:

You shall dwell in booths for seven days. All native Israelites shall dwell in booths, that your generations may know that I made the people of Israel dwell in booths when I brought them out of the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God. (Leviticus 23:42-43).

The word in Hebrew for booths is “sukkot,” which is plural for a sukkah. We make these temporary structures each year at this time, reminding us of how our ancestors dwelled in temporary structures in the wilderness for forty years. We are also reminded how Yeshua took on a temporary earthly structure (human flesh) and chose to dwell with man: “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). 

As we dwell in our sukkahs this Sukkot, let us remember that God dwells with us and within us in the person of Yeshua our Messiah.

Fulfillment and Redemption

Rabbi Arthur S. Waskow, in his holiday book Seasons of Our Joy, says Sukkot is “the festival of fulfillment, of gathering in the benefits that flow from repentance and forgiveness. The harvest that takes the form of joy and shalom, harmony, in the world.” Sukkot is a closing holiday in many ways. It’s the final holiday of the fall festivals. It’s the last of the major holidays outlined in Leviticus 23. And it is also the capstone and fulfillment of the “Big Three” holidays in Judaism (Passover, Shavuot, and Sukkot) we call the Shalosh Regalim. Of all the holidays, these were the three times each year when Jewish people throughout the world would temporarily leave their homes in the diaspora and make aliyah (go up) to Jerusalem to meet with Hashem. 

There is a beautiful spiritual parallel between the Shalosh Regalim and the blessings surrounding the Shema in our shacharit liturgy. The Shema and its blessings consist of two blessings before and one blessing after our declaration of faith in one God. The first blessing extols God as Creator and corresponds to the spring holiday of Passover. On Passover, God is said to have created or birthed the Jewish nation as he miraculously brought them out of Egypt. The second blessing, Ahava Rabbah, showcases God’s great love for his people Israel and is represented by Shavuot, the second of the Shalosh Regalim. On Shavuot, God made a covenant with Israel at Sinai. This is the holiday of revelation, when God gave us the Torah.

This brings us to the final holiday in the Shalosh Regalim. Sukkot is the culmination and fulfillment holiday that ultimately shows us the theme of redemption. One of the definitions of redemption or to redeem is to recover from captivity. As the Israelites were leaving Egypt, after years of captivity, they were being pursued by the Egyptian army, with its warriors, weapons and chariots. Things didn’t look good for the Jewish people. But then the Lord miraculously parted the Red Sea, so the Israelites could walk across on dry ground. And just as miraculously, God brought the waters back right as the Egyptians entered the seabed, drowning the invading army and rescuing Israel. We remember this in our liturgy with the final blessing after the Shema, the blessing of redemption, when we say, “Mi chamocha b’elim Adonai” – Who is like you, O Lord, among the gods? 

The Shalosh Regalim, in parallel with our morning liturgy, show us God as creator on Passover, revealer on Shavuot, and redeemer on Sukkot. It is within this context of redemption that we can see our Messiah Yeshua. Upon entering his hometown of Nazareth, Yeshua went to the synagogue and was given the scroll of Isaiah which he attributed to Himself: 

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed. (Luke 4:18)

Yeshua came to set the captives free from their sins. He came to redeem both Israel and the nations.

So, as we enter this holiday of Sukkot, let’s remember the joy we can have in the Lord through Yeshua as our Messiah. As we dwell in our sukkahs, let’s remember how the Lord dwells with us in Yeshua. And as we see Sukkot as the final fulfillment holiday in our annual cycle, let’s remember how Sukkot points us to our final and complete redemption found in Yeshua our Messiah.

Will Our Repentance Reach Its Goal?

Image: Biblehub.com

Yom Kippur 5787

Yom Kippur 5787

Russ Resnik, UMJC Rabbinic Counsel

Toward the conclusion of the Days of Teshuvah or Repentance, on the afternoon of Yom Kippur, it’s customary to read and ponder the book of Jonah, which provides a master lesson in the meaning and power of repentance.

There’s a paradox here, though, because it’s not clear whether the protagonist, Jonah himself, fully repents in the end. The book opens with the word of the Lord directing Jonah, “Arise, go to Nineveh, that great city, and cry out against it.” Jonah responds by heading in the opposite direction. He goes down to the port of Jaffa and then down into a ship headed for Tarshish, “away from the presence of the Lord,” and finally down into the ship’s hold to take a nap (Jonah 1:1–5).

Everyone knows the story: Jonah’s escape from his divine assignment doesn’t work out so well. A storm arises, threatening to break up the ship, and Jonah is cast into the sea to calm it. He’s swallowed by a great fish, where he remains, fully conscious, for three days. Jonah finally appears to repent, saying, “What I have vowed I will pay” (Jonah 2:9). The Lord speaks to the fish; it vomits Jonah out on dry land; Jonah is recommissioned and he heads out for Nineveh. When he arrives, he brings the warning God had directed him to give: “In forty days Nineveh will be overthrown” (Jonah 3:4).

The Ninevites immediately repent with great earnestness, and it looks like they’ll be spared the terrible judgment that Jonah warned them about. And he can’t stand it. He’s infuriated over God’s impending act of mercy and tells God that he never wanted to go to Nineveh because, he says, “I knew you were a God who is merciful and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in grace, and that you relent from inflicting punishment” (Jonah 4:2). He storms out of town, builds himself a shelter—a sukkah— and sits down to watch over the city, hoping it will be judged after all.

The Lord provides a castor bean plant to shade the recalcitrant prophet in his flimsy shelter and then sends a worm to attack the plant so that it shrivels up and dies. The text continues,

Then, when the sun rose, God prepared a scorching east wind; and the sun beat down on Jonah’s head so hard that he grew faint and begged that he could die, saying, “I would be better off dead than alive.”

God asked Jonah, “Is it right for you to be so angry about the castor-bean plant?” He answered, “Yes, it’s right for me to be so angry that I could die!” The Lord said, “You’re concerned over the castor-bean plant, which cost you no effort; you didn’t make it grow; it came up in a night and perished in a night. So shouldn’t I be concerned about the great city of Nineveh, in which there are more than 120,000 people who don’t know their right hand from their left — not to mention all the animals?” (Jonah 4:8–11)

And there the story ends. We never learn whether Jonah, the prophet of repentance, repents of his bitterness against the Ninevites. We don’t know whether he ever completes the teshuvah he began in the belly of the fish by coming to share God’s own heart for the human lives of Nineveh.

The story is left without a conclusion, but with an open question: God says, “Shouldn’t I be concerned about the 120,000 human souls in Nineveh?” The question invites Jonah to share in God’s concern and compassion, and it expands into a question for us. When we talk about teshuvah during this season, are we genuinely turning away from our own distractions and preoccupations and turning back to God and his concerns? Are we turning back fully enough to share in God’s own compassion for the real humans he created and watches over?

In the Union community during this season of teshuvah many of us have been seeing our need to return to our founding vision of a thriving movement for Yeshua within and among the Jewish community. This means shifting our focus away from our own priorities and preoccupations and seeking Messiah’s heart for his people. Yeshua expressed this passion while on his way to the holy city:

O Jerusalem, Jerusalem who kills the prophets and stones those sent to her! How often I longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing. (Luke 13:34)

Later, as Yeshua “drew near and saw Jerusalem,” Luke tells us,

He wept over her, saying, “If only you had recognized this day the things that lead to shalom! But now they are hidden from your eyes.” (Luke 19:41–42)

Let’s not miss the tenderness of this picture, of Yeshua’s yearning to gather the scattered children of Israel like a hen gathering her brood under her wings. Yeshua weeps over Israel’s sin and shortcoming, not in anger but with an agonized desire for her to return to her true place in God’s kingdom. He longs not only for Jewish individuals, but even more for the restoration of the entire people of Israel as foretold by the prophets.

Jonah is a remarkable reading for Yom Kippur, arguably the most Jewish day of the year, because it portrays deep repentance among a gentile nation, which serves as a paradigm for all the nations besides Israel, all humankind. Thus, on the Jewish holy day of Yom Kippur, we encounter in Jonah’s story the hope of teshuvah for all peoples.

But I also see a qal v’chomer argument here. This Hebrew phrase meaning “light and heavy” describes a principle of biblical interpretation, and here’s how it works: If the pagan Ninevites can repent so readily, how much more should we repent as well. If Jonah is called to embrace God’s compassion for these pagan Ninevites, how much more are we called to embrace God’s compassion for Israel. If God invites Jonah to long for Nineveh’s repentance, how much more are we to share in Messiah Yeshua’s longing for Jerusalem’s restoration.

May this vision of turning to the God of Israel and to his longing for the redemption of his people capture our hearts as this season of teshuvah reaches its completion.

Finding Messiah in the Akedah

Detail of mosaic floor depicting the binding of Isaac

Rosh Hashanah 5787

Rosh Hashanah 5787

Rabbi Ben Weisman, Beth Messiah Congregation, Germantown, Maryland

The Akedah, the narrative of the binding of Isaac found in Genesis 22, forms one of the major themes of the traditional Rosh Hashanah liturgy, and the full chapter is read on the second day of the holiday. The well-known, if unsettling, account follows Abraham as he attempts to obey a divine call to slaughter and burn his son on the altar. At the last moment, the angel of the Lord intervenes, and a ram is sacrificed in place of Isaac. The terse narrative begs for a midrash to fill in the gaps. In midrash, the Jewish sages find in each narrative gap or redundant word an opportunity to teach us something by imagining what might be going on behind the scenes.

Near the beginning of the chapter, Abraham and Isaac travel for three days before leaving two servants behind as they continue onward (Genesis 22:5). However, after the (attempted) sacrifice, the text only mentions Abraham returning to the servants (Genesis 22:19). Observing this detail, Midrash Hagadol offers two explanations:

 “And Abraham returned to the youths.” And where was Isaac? R. Eleazar ben Pedat said even though Isaac did not die, the text regards it as if he died and his ashes were sprinkled over the altar.

Another interpretation: “And Abraham returned…” And where was Isaac? The Holy One brought him into the Garden of Eden and he dwelt there three years.[1]

The first interpretation tells us that Isaac did not die, but the Torah is giving us a hint that it should be counted as if Isaac’s ashes were sprinkled on the altar. In the second interpretation it seems that Isaac in fact dies and is transported to heaven where he remains for three years before being resurrected. These two interpretations are emblematic of ancient death and resurrection undercurrents in the Jewish interpretation of the Akedah. The Book of Hebrews reflects these interpretive undercurrents when it comments that Abraham “considered the fact that God is able even to raise someone from the dead—and, figuratively speaking, he did receive [Isaac] back” (Hebrews 11:19).

Earlier in Genesis, we find that Sarah is around 90 years old when Isaac was born.[2] Directly after the Akedah, the Torah tells us that Sarah dies at 127 (from the shock of learning what Abraham has done, as some midrashim have it).[3] Therefore, Isaac is traditionally thought to be 37 years old as he undergoes his trial at Moriah.[4] We might have assumed that this is a story of a young boy being overpowered by his father, but, in this reading, Isaac is an adult. While he has the ability to resist his father, he “cast himself before his father like a sacrificed lamb.”[5] In fact, in one midrashic account, Isaac asks his father to tie him tightly so that he does not flinch.[6]

What is the significance of Isaac willingly offering himself up to be killed? Vayikra Rabbah tells us that “the deeds of Isaac would be . . . sufficient to suspend the [punishment of] the world.  . . . He was one who experienced suffering. . . [and] God sees the ashes of Isaac as though they are piled atop the altar.”[7] Isaac’s suffering and death are counted as a merit for his descendants, and indeed for the whole world. The midrash tells us that when God deliberates regarding our sins, Isaac pleads in our defense based on the merit of his suffering like an innocent lamb. God sees Isaac’s ashes and is reminded, as it were, to be merciful. Another midrash takes this imagery even further while commenting on the blood of the paschal lamb smeared on the doorposts of the people of Israel in Egypt; the Mechilta explains that when God sees the blood and passes over, it is actually “the blood of the binding of Isaac” that God sees.[8]

For those who have eyes to see it, Messiah is boldly shining forth from every text! On the journey to his own sacrifice, when Isaac inquires regarding the animal to be sacrificed, Abraham tells him that God will provide a lamb (Genesis 22:7–8) but, in fact, a ram is sacrificed (Genesis 22:13). We can see Yeshua as the lamb that fulfills Abraham’s prophetic words which were only partially fulfilled on the day of the Akedah. When God “sees the blood,” in the fullest sense it is “precious blood like that of a lamb without defect or spot, the blood of Messiah” that is in view (1 Peter 1:19).

The broader Akedah narrative foreshadows the Messiah: an only, beloved son who is offered up by his father, carries the wood for his own sacrifice, and is received back to life after a three-day journey. On a deeper level, it is Messiah’s suffering and death that “take away the sin of the world” (John 1:29). It is in his merit that we can be counted as righteous and be written “in the Book of Life of the Lamb who was slain” (Revelation 13:8).

Not only do we remember the atoning suffering of the past, but we are assured of future redemption. There is a midrash that tells us that the shofar made from the left horn of the ram that was sacrificed in Isaac’s stead was blown at Mount Sinai, while the right horn is being preserved for the great shofar that announces the Messianic era.[9] This is in harmony with what was written to the Thessalonians: “[Messiah] shall come down from heaven . . . with the blast of God’s shofar, and the dead in Messiah shall rise first” (1 Thessalonians 4:16). Not only was Messiah raised from the dead, but he heralds new life for humanity and all of creation!

This Rosh Hashanah, as we hear the sound of the shofar, let us remember the one who offered himself on our behalf and look with hope toward the blast of the great shofar that will signal the renewal of all things.

L’Shanah tovah!

[1] Midrash Hagadol Bereshit 22:19

[2] When Isaac is promised, we find in Genesis 17:17 that Sarah is 90 years old and Abraham is 100 years old. Later in Genesis 21:5, it is reported that Abraham is 100 years old when Isaac is born, and therefore it can be inferred that Sarah is about 90 years old.

[3] Vayikra Rabbah 20:2; Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 32:8; Rashi on Genesis 23:2

[4] Bereishit Rabbah 55:4; Bereishit Rabbah 56:8; Shemot Rabbah 1:1; Midrash Tanchuma, Vayera 23:3; Rashi on Genesis 25:20

[5] Vayikra Rabbah 2:10; Rabbi Elie Kaunfer comments on this text that “the parallels to Christianity are striking, however this is clearly a natively Jewish approach.” https://www.hadar.org/torah-tefillah/resources/rosh-hashanah-and-ultimate-purpose-life. Rabbi Kaunfer’s article is the source several quotations and ideas found in this essay.

[6] Bereishit Rabbah 56:8; Midrash Tanchuma, Vayera 23:4

[7] Vayikra Rabbah 36:5; cf. Sifra, Bechukotai, 8:6-7, Rashi on Leviticus 26:42:2

[8] Mechilta DeRabbi Yishmael, Tractate Pischa 7:23

[9] Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 31:13

“Therefore, Choose Life”

Nitzavim-Vayelech

Parashat Nitzavim-Vayelech, Deuteronomy 29:9–31:30

Rabbi David Tokajer, Congregation Mayim Chayim, Daphne, Alabama

Parashat Nitzavim-Vayelech takes us to one of the Torah’s most moving moments. Israel stands on the plains of Moab, with the wilderness behind and the Promised Land ahead. Moses, who led them from Egypt, knows he will not cross the Jordan with them. And his opening words are significant: “You are standing today, all of you, before Adonai your God” (Deuteronomy 29:9).

The Hebrew word nitzavim means more than just being present. It suggests standing firmly, being established, and being set in place. Israel stands before Adonai as a covenant people.

Notice who is present: leaders, elders, officials, men, women, children, and even the strangers living among them. Everyone is included in this covenant moment. Even more, Moses says the covenant is made “not with you alone” but also “with whomever is standing here with us today before Adonai our God and with whomever is not here with us today” (Deuteronomy 29:13-14).

This means the covenant always extends beyond the current generation. We inherit a story that started before us, and we are called to pass it on to people we may never meet.

Midrash Tanchuma offers an interesting insight about the start of our parasha. It links Israel’s standing to their endurance. Even after the wilderness, judgment, and failure, Israel still stands before Adonai. The Midrash sees Moses’s words as a declaration: after all you have been through, “you have a standing” (Midrash Tanchuma, Nitzavim 1).

This message matters as we approach the Days of Awe, Yamim Nora’im, from Rosh Hashanah through Yom Kippur. Traditionally, Yamim Nora’im is a season of urgent repentance, as it is believed the Book of Life, Sefer HaChayim, stands open before being sealed on Yom Kippur. During the Days of Awe, teshuvah—turning to God or repentance—calls us to examine our hearts, turn from sin, seek reconciliation, and return wholeheartedly to God. Teshuvah does not start because God has left us. It is possible because he has not left us. Deuteronomy 30 makes this clear. Moses looks ahead to Israel’s future rebellion, exile, and return. But exile will not end Israel’s story. Moses says, “[when] you return to Adonai your God and listen to his voice . . . then Adonai your God will bring you back from captivity and have compassion on you” (Deuteronomy 30:2–3).

Failure does not cancel covenant. Rather, covenant provides the pathway home.

This is why Moses says that obeying God is not a mystery: “It is not in the heavens . . . nor is it across the sea.” Instead, “the word is very near to you—in your mouth and in your heart, to do it” (30:12–14).

The rabbis pose an intriguing thought about this passage. In Eruvin 55a, Avdimi bar Chama bar Dosa teaches that if Torah were in heaven, we would have to climb after it; if it were beyond the sea, we would have to cross the sea for it. Rava adds that Torah cannot be found in someone who puts himself above it.

But Moses’s message is even more encouraging: you do not need to climb into heaven to know what God wants. God has already spoken. The real question is not whether his Word is accessible, but whether we will obey it.

This brings us to one of the main declarations of the parashah: “I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. Therefore choose life . . .” (Deuteronomy 30:19). Notice that Moses does not just say, “Choose correctly.” He says, choose life.

Torah is not only about rules. It teaches Israel how to live in a covenant relationship with the God who redeemed us. Choosing life means loving Adonai, listening to his voice, and holding on to him, “for he is your life” (Deuteronomy 30:20).

As Messianic Jews, we hear these words and also remember Yeshua’s declaration, “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). Choosing life means walking faithfully with the God of Israel, and we believe that fullness is revealed in Messiah Yeshua.

Vayelech, then, marks a transition. Moses is leaving; Joshua will lead. The generation that knew Egypt is passing away, and a new generation must carry the covenant forward.

Still, Moses tells Israel and Joshua again and again, “Chazak ve’ematz”—“Be strong! Be courageous!” Why? Because even though leaders change, God does not. Moses says, “Adonai — he is the One who goes before you. He will be with you. He will not fail you or abandon you” (Deuteronomy 31:8).

This is where the Haftarah speaks beautifully to the parashah. Isaiah 61:10 begins, “I will rejoice greatly in Adonai . My soul will be joyful in my God.” This is the seventh and final Haftarah of Consolation after Tisha B’Av. For seven weeks, Israel has heard words of comfort, restoration, and hope. Now the cycle ends with Jerusalem looking toward redemption.

Isaiah remembers Adonai’s hesed and says, “Surely they are my people” (Isaiah 63:8). Then comes one of the most beautiful lines in the passage: “In all their affliction, he was afflicted” (Isaiah 63:9).

This is what covenant faithfulness looks like. Israel suffers, yet God has not forgotten Israel. Israel wanders, yet God continues calling Israel home. Israel sins, yet God’s covenant purposes remain. Israel enters exile, yet restoration is still promised.

This connects directly back to Nitzavim. Moses knows Israel will fail and says so clearly. Isaiah speaks centuries later to people who have lived through the consequences Moses warned about. Yet Israel is still standing.

The main message linking the Torah and Haftarah this week is: Our hope is not based on Israel’s ability to hold onto God, but on God’s faithfulness to hold onto Israel.

And because he remains faithful, he continues to call us to teshuvah. He calls us to choose life, love Adonai, listen to his voice, and cling to him.

The same God who stood with our ancestors in the wilderness, who preserved Israel through exile, and who promised redemption through the prophets, still stands with his people today. As we approach the High Holy Days this year, we must cling to this and fight to remind the world around us. Today Israel faces seemingly insurmountable problems, whether internal political strife, constant impending threats from their numerous neighbors who desire to eliminate her existence, or the globally growing and frightening reality of antisemitism. But as Parashat Nitzavim-Vayelech reveals, even amid crisis, God faithfully stands with Israel.

Leaders change. Generations change. Circumstances change. But the covenant faithfulness of Adonai does not.

Skin in the Game

Image: https://romanempiretimes.com

Parashat Ki Tavo

Parashat Ki Tavo, Deuteronomy 26:1–29:8

Rabbi Ira Brawer, Shalom Boca, Boca Raton, Florida

There’s an ancient story that the Romans required bridge builders to stand underneath their completed bridges when the supporting scaffolding was removed. The reason is obvious—it was an incentive for them to show that they had done the job correctly, that they had “skin in the game.” Otherwise there would be some consequences for them.

It is clear that God has a lot of skin in the game in the story of our people. Follow the story from Abraham, through the slavery in Egypt, to the exodus, to the rebellion and wandering in the desert, to the moment Moses is recounting the covenant to the next generation in Parashat Ki Tavo. God’s design to restore mankind is taking a major step forward, and Israel is the key player in the “game” as this new generation is getting ready to enter the land. Over and over, starting with Exodus 1, we read of God’s desire for Israel, from recognizing their identity as his “firstborn son,” “treasured possession,” and their calling as a “light to the nations” and “kingdom of priests.”

In this week’s parasha, we read about a re-affirmation of the covenant, which was first given by Hashem to the previous generation at Sinai, and is now restated by Moses to this next generation getting ready to enter the Land. The idea of covenant was familiar to the ancient world, where two parties entered into an agreement to do certain things for mutual benefit, not just in words, but in actions. Both sides would have skin in the game. The parasha starts off with specific instructions and actions for Israel to take when they come into the land,

Now when you enter the land that Adonai your God is giving you as an inheritance, and you possess it and dwell in it, you are to take some of the first of all the produce of the soil, which you gather from your land that Adonai your God is giving you, put it in a basket and go to the place Adonai your God chooses to make his Name dwell. (Deuteronomy 26:1-2)

Possessing the Land is key in these verses; it is their inheritance, or nachalah, tied to the covenant. Yet, they will have to possess it, virishta, and dwell in it, v’yashavta. Israel fulfilling her identity and calling is clearly tied to the Land, and of course still is.

Clearly here God is calling Israel to have skin in the game. They demonstrate that with the tithes of their produce “to give to the Levites, the outsider, to the orphan and to the widow, so that they may eat within your town gates and be satisfied” (Deuteronomy 26:12). This act of giving is a demonstration of gratitude and acknowledgment that it all comes from Adonai. It is also a reflection of his heart of compassion to care for the needy. Of course the same principle is still at work in our lives, as we are called to give generously and care for those in need.

God’s skin in the game has been demonstrated all along and the Israelites are reminded of it again in this parasha. They were to remember (as we do every Pesach, reading from the Haggadah),

My father was a wandering Aramean. . . . Adonai brought us out from Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with great terror, and with signs and wonders. He brought us to this place and gave us this land—a land flowing with milk and honey. (Deuteronomy 26:5–9)

Moses goes on to acknowledge that Israel had that day affirmed the covenant, acknowledging their obligation to obey his mitzvot. This is to be their skin in the game beyond bringing their tithes and offerings.

Deuteronomy 26:17–19 is perhaps the key passage in the whole parasha, which again expresses God’s heart for Israel, his “treasured people,” or am segulah, and what he expects their part to be in the relationship.

Today you have affirmed Adonai as your God, that you will walk in his ways, keep his statutes, mitzvot and ordinances, and listen to his voice. Now today Adonai has affirmed you as his treasured people, as He promised you; that you are to keep all his mitzvot; that he will set you high above all the nations he has made, for praise, fame and honor; and that you are to be a holy people to Adonai your God, as he has promised.

And also 27:9–10,

Then Moses and the Levitical kohanim spoke to all Israel, saying, “Be silent and listen, O Israel—this day you have become a people for Adonai your God. Therefore listen to the voice of Adonai your God, and do his mitzvot and statutes that I am commanding you today.

This is all covenant language, in which Moses lays out God’s part in the covenant and what he expects Israel to do in response to fulfill their calling to be a light to the nations.

Chapters 27 and 28 lay out the blessings of obedience and the curses for disobedience. Another word for curses is consequences. It reminds me of what we used to tell our children when they were little: “Obedience brings blessing, disobedience brings consequences.” When our children disobeyed and received consequences, it did not diminish our unconditional love for them.  

In the same way the Lord is laying out the choice for his people Israel. But disobedience and even rebellion, while bringing harsh consequences, do not negate his love for them. The purpose of covenant consequences is ultimately restoration, not destruction. That was always his desire for Israel and is for us today as well.

God’s ultimate skin in the game is the death of the Messiah himself.

For the joy set before him, he endured the cross, disregarding its shame; and he has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who has endured such hostility by sinners against himself, so that you may not grow weary in your souls and lose heart. (Hebrews 12:2–3)

He gave for us that which was most precious to him. And what does he expect from us? Yeshua was clear, “Anyone who wants to come after me must lay his life down, pick up his cross and follow me” (Mark 8:34). Ouch, that’s a lot of skin in the game! But we need to keep in mind that obedience to God is not about a list of dos and don’ts, or walking straight or else, or obeying so that he will accept us. Rather, we are to be obedient because we belong to him, and are to live accordingly.

The final verse of our parasha is a powerful summary for Israel, and for us: “So keep the words of this covenant and do them, so that you may prosper in all that you do” (Deuteronomy 29:8).

For us, the challenge of Ki Tavo is to ask what it looks like to put our faith fully into action. Do we have skin in the game? Are we walking in the blessings of obedience or suffering the consequences of wrong choices or behavior? During this time of forty days of teshuvah, I encourage all of us to seek the Lord’s face and have him help answer those questions.

Ethics in Unexpected Places

Photo: www.canadashistory.ca

Ki Tetse

Parashat Ki Tetse, Deuteronomy 21:10–25:19

Matt Absolon, Beth T’filah, Miramar, FL

‍When you go out to war against your enemies, and the Lord your God gives them into your hand and you take them captive, and you see among the captives a beautiful woman, and you desire to take her to be your wife, and you bring her home to your house, she shall shave her head and pare her nails. And she shall take off the clothes in which she was captured and shall remain in your house and lament her father and her mother a full month. After that you may go in to her and be her husband, and she shall be your wife. But if you no longer delight in her, you shall let her go where she wants. But you shall not sell her for money, nor shall you treat her as a slave, since you have humiliated her. (Deuteronomy 21:10–14)

This week’s portion opens with a legal code regarding the treatment of prisoners of war that can seem remote from life today, until we set it against the catalogue of wartime horrors compiled over the past century. Read against that record, the distance collapses.

To students of war, we recognize that sexual violence against women is not an unfortunate byproduct of war, but a deliberate tactic perpetuated against civilian populations for the purposes of terror and subjugation. Imperial Japan’s atrocities in China, Nazi Germany’s tyranny of Europe, Russian conduct in Ukraine, and October 7 2023, stand as recent entries in a far longer list. In the light of contemporary and historical record, the awful truth is that this conduct is not an aberration from the norms of warfare . . . it is the norm. What is unusual, historically, is restraint. Torah’s ethic stands in stark relief against that.‍ ‍

First, Torah assigns the captive intrinsic worth. She is not chattel, to be used and discarded at the whim of the conqueror. The Torah does not suspend human dignity upon the defeated, nor does it suspend accountability upon the victor. Instead, it reinforces human dignity towards the captive and it demands personal accountability from the victor. ‍‍ ‍

Second, the Torah requires empathy toward the enemy, allotting a full month for the captive woman to mourn her parents before any claim may be foisted upon her. The law refuses to let the victor reduce “the other” to an object, a restraint that is imposed on the conqueror precisely at the height of his power.

Third, the ritual itself interrogates the victor’s desire. Having the captive shave her head, pare her nails, and remove the garments in which she was captured strips away every external mark of allure. The implication is pointed: the desire that prompted this taking is itself suspect, and the Torah responds by imposing a month-long delay before that desire may be acted upon. ‍‍ ‍

Fourth, the passage concludes by protecting her long-term status: “If you no longer delight in her, you shall let her go where she wants . . . you shall not treat her as a slave, since you have humiliated her.” ‍‍ ‍

Having married her, the man may not humiliate her at will; she may be released, but never sold or enslaved. The sages, for their part, were very vocal regarding this passage, which became known as the law of “yefat toar” (lit. “beautiful of form”). Ibn Ezra charges the victor with acting in deception should he divorce her and Ramban goes further still, holding that the victor is liable to lashes should he violate any of her legal rights as a lawful Jewish wife (Kiddushin 21b). ‍‍ ‍

We see some important ethical teachings in this passage:

1. Torah extends human dignity to all people, including our enemies, and requires us to do likewise.‍

2. Torah permits warfare, if necessary, but demands moral restraint in its execution.‍

3. Victory is never a license to unfetter our morality.‍

4. Permission is not endorsement: where Torah makes allowances for a base motive, it hedges that allowance with safeguards.

This remains painfully relevant as we grapple with the stories that continue to emerge post-October 7, along with the rising litany of war crimes perpetrated against Ukrainian woman and sub-Saharan African woman alike. It marks a clear ethical line between us and our enemies, past and present: we hold human dignity as non-negotiable even in war’s darkest moments.‍ ‍

A second reading in this week’s passage is that of the rebellious son. ‍ ‍

If a man has a stubborn and rebellious son who will not obey the voice of his father or the voice of his mother, and, though they discipline him, will not listen to them, then his father and his mother shall take hold of him and bring him out to the elders of his city at the gate of the place where he lives. (Deuteronomy 21:18–19)

In most cultures of the ancient world, a father’s absolute right over the life of his child was simply the legal norm. Rome codified this most starkly in “Patria Potestas” (lit. the power of the father). While patricide was punished with extraordinary cruelty, filicide remained a father’s legal prerogative for most of Rome’s history. The doctrine flowed directly from Roman theology: a pantheon whose gods wielded capricious, unaccountable power over their children and subjects.

Rome was far from alone in its legal code of filicide; comparable paternal authority over a child’s life, marriage, and sale into slavery appears across Babylon, Assyria, the Hittites, classical India, imperial China, the Germanic tribes, ancient Kievan-Rus, and the Aztec world just to name a few. In each case, family law mirrors the theology underpinning the culture; gods who exercised absolute tyranny upon their subjects. Most painfully, our own forefathers were not immune to this horror when we turned to the Canaanite deities, with some of our kings killing their sons as offerings to the gods (2 Kings 16:3; 21:6).

But the Lord our God is different. “Out of all the peoples on the face of the earth, the Lord has chosen you to be his treasured possession (segulah)” (Deuteronomy 14:2; cf. Leviticus 25:55). Torah’s consistent claim is that every Israelite belongs to God as his treasure, not to any human master, and not even to his own parents. We are sons and daughters of the Most High.

This week’s passage lives out that claim. It denies parents of the power of life and death over their children and hands that responsibility to the elders, the very officers the Torah established in last week’s portion, charged to pursue justice, and justice alone. No father’s wounded pride or fractured ego, however severe, ever authorizes him to harm his own child; because the child is the Lord’s treasured possession, his segulah.

The limitation of paternal power is one of the more important, but often overlooked, contrasts between the Torah and the legal code of the nations surrounding Israel. It is a contrast worth naming, especially as we in the modern West still live, largely unaware, inside its long inheritance.

We Messianic Jews do well not to take that inheritance for granted. Where the western world now assumes many of these ethics as simple “status quo,” or as enshrined by law as a human right, it fell to Torah to first establish these rights. However, as recent world events have reminded us, the work of spreading the light of the Torah is never complete, and it falls to us to keep shining that light into a world full of darkness.

Shabbat shalom!

The Heart of a Mediator

Parashat Shoftim

Parashat Shoftim, Deuteronomy 16:18–21:9

Russ Resnik, UMJC Rabbinic Counsel

The Rock, perfect in every act:
Who can say to Him, “Why do You so act?”
You who speak and act: show us kindness we do not deserve,
And in the merit of the one who was bound like a lamb, hear us and act. 
                                                              (From the burial service, Koren Siddur)

One of the age-old controversies between Judaism and Christianity concerns the need for a mediator between God and man. Rabbinic writings often assert that Israel needs no intermediary with God, but can approach him directly. Thus, Jewish commentator Ovadiah ben Jacob Sforno (ca. 1475–1550) comments on the first of the Ten Commandments: “I am the Lord your God” (Exodus 20:2):

I alone am Hashem who grants existence; the Prime Cause known to you through tradition and proof; and I confirm that you have accepted upon yourself My sovereignty, to be your God, with no need for a mediator. Therefore, to Me alone shall you pray, and Me alone shall you serve without any mediator.

Likewise, Rambam (Moses Maimonides, 1138–1204) says that this commandment and the one following—“You shall have no other gods before me”—“reached [Israel] just as they reached Moses our Master and that it was not Moses our Master who communicated them to them.” All Israel stood before the Lord at Sinai and received his revelation directly with no mediator.

Yet, as the prayer cited at the opening attests, another strain of Jewish thought calls out for a mediator, for one whose merit will benefit all Israel, as the merit of Isaac, “bound like a lamb,” is believed to have done. This ambivalence about a mediator reflects a tension within the biblical text itself. For example, it is true that God appears directly to all Israel at Mount Sinai, but it is also true that Moses serves as an intermediary for Israel through much of that encounter.

At Mount Sinai, Israel encounters the Lord “face to face,” according to Deuteronomy 5:4, but in the next verse Moses “stands between” the Lord and Israel to mediate the divine word. Indeed, this seems to be Moses’s unique place within the story of the Jewish people. He alone regularly communicates with the Lord “face to face” and brings the report of this communication back to the people. Moses, then, indeed serves as mediator between God and Israel.

God desires to bring us near but his transcendent purity and holiness create a distance that must somehow be bridged.

In this week’s parashah, Moses is contemplating the end of his life, which means the end of his mediatory work. We might ask, was his mediation necessary only for the first generation, those who received the Torah at Mount Sinai? Can Israel now meet with God face to face with no one to stand between them and him? No, Moses says that when he is gone,

The Lord your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among you, from your brothers—it is to him you shall listen—just as you desired of the Lord your God at Horeb on the day of the assembly, when you said, “Let me not hear again the voice of the Lord my God or see this great fire any more, lest I die.” (Deuteronomy 18:15–16)

This prophet will be a mediator in the same way that Moses was a mediator. Like Moses, he will hear the voice of the Lord and then he will speak to the people. Through him, God will reveal himself to Israel. “And whoever will not listen to my words that he shall speak in my name, I myself will require it of him” (Deuteronomy 18:19).

The Torah will conclude at the end of Deuteronomy with a statement that the prophet like Moses had not yet appeared. “And there has not arisen a prophet since in Israel like Moses, whom the Lord knew face to face. . .” (34:10). For Messianic Jews, of course, this prophet arose many centuries later, in the person of Yeshua of Natzeret.

Citing our text from this week’s parashah, Peter urges the Jews of Jerusalem to return to God through trusting in Yeshua.

Repent therefore, and turn back, that your sins may be blotted out, that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord, and that he may send the Messiah appointed for you, Yeshua. . . . Moses said, “The Lord God will raise up for you a prophet like me from your brothers. You shall listen to him in whatever he tells you.” (Acts 3:19–20, 22)

This is a fitting text as we enter the forty-day period of teshuvah, turning or repentance, which traditionally runs from the first day of Elul, beginning sundown August 13, to the closing of Yom Kippur, September 21. We also, along with our Jewish brothers and sisters in Jerusalem, are called to “repent and turn back.” I won’t seek to detail all the possible ways in which we need to turn to God, but will highlight one example that Moses and the prophet like Moses provide for us.

When Moses went before the Lord to seek forgiveness for Israel after the sin of the golden calf, he revealed the depth of his burden for the people: “But now, if you will forgive their sin—but if not, please blot me out of your book that you have written” (Exodus 32:32). Moses stands inseparably with his people and finds their estrangement from God insufferable. Yeshua bears a similar burden for his people. On his way to Jerusalem, he tells the holy city, which represents all Israel: “How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” (Luke 13:34).

Later, as “He drew near and saw Jerusalem,” Luke tells us, “He wept over her,” yearning for her salvation (Luke 19:41).

During our season of teshuvah this year, it is essential to remember our mediator, Messiah Yeshua, the prophet like Moses. The promise in Deuteronomy 18 is familiar enough to us, especially in the Messianic Jewish world, but we need to go beyond mobilizing it as a proof text. Rather, can we join our hearts with Messiah’s heart for the brood of Israel that he longs to gather under his wings? As we remember our need for restoration during this season of self-examination and repentance, we are thankful for the One who stands before God on our behalf. But can we also look beyond our own need for restoration and share in the burden that Messiah Yeshua carries for the restoration of all Israel? “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how often would I have gathered your children together, as a hen gathers her brood under her wings.” May his longing fuel our prayers this season!

Article adapted from Creation to Completion: A Guide to Life’s Journey from the Five Books of Moses, by Russell Resnik (Lederer Books, 2006).

The Lord Is Our Inheritance and We Are His

Parashat Re'eh

Parashat Re’eh, Deuteronomy 11:26–16:17

Rabbi David Wein, Tikvat Israel, Richmond, Virginia

Sometimes when I meet new parents, I tell them I have good news and less good news. The good news is: it gets easier, you get more sleep, you learn things. The good news is also that your baby is in what my friend calls the potato phase. Wherever you put a potato, there it stays.

But there’s one thing they don’t tell you in the hospital. Right now you’re in the potato phase. But in a few years, this child will develop a will of their own—a strong opinion about bedtime, leaving the playground, brushing their teeth, and every other transition you need them to make. That’s the less good news.

So, what do I do as a dad? Well, I’ve tried many things, and here is what I say:

“Hey, let’s go upstairs and hide so mommy can come find us.”

“Use the bathroom correctly and get a sticker. Seven stickers and you get a toy car.”

“I bet I can put my shoes on first!”

“Can you brush your teeth please?” “No.” “Well, Daddy wants to brush his teeth.” “I wanna brush my teeth!”

Parenting, at least in these moments, isn’t just about getting my son to cooperate. It’s about his heart formation, his development, and our relationship. Sometimes there is a reward, and sometimes there is a game, but this is what they all have in common: we are doing it together.

That helps us understand what the Lord is doing with Israel in this week’s parasha. Like every good father, he’s not merely trying to produce obedience. He’s forming a people who will learn to trust him. And nowhere do we see that more clearly than in the unusual inheritance of the Levites. “But don’t neglect the Levi staying with you, because he has no share or inheritance like yours” (Deuteronomy 14:27 CJB).

Several times in this week’s parasha the Levites are mentioned, to the tune of “they have no inheritance as you do, so take care of them.” They have no land per se. But that doesn’t mean they have no inheritance. Later in the parasha, after instructing Israel not to worship other gods like the other nations do, we find this:

You will not do things the way we do them here today, where everyone does whatever in his own opinion seems right; because you haven’t yet arrived at the rest and inheritance which Adonai your God is giving you. (Deuteronomy 12:8–9 CJB)

Israel, you are no longer in the potato phase. Now it’s time l’shmoa—to listen, understand, and obey—so that you may enter the rest and inheritance God has prepared for you.

The Hebrew word for “rest” (menuchah) echoes the word “Noach,” whose name points toward comfort after the curse (Genesis 5:29). Israel’s rest in the land is the beginning of the reversal of Eden’s exile—a move toward a place of security where God dwells among His people. Here’s the continuation of the passage from the parasha:

But when you cross the Yarden and live in the land Adonai your God is having you inherit, and he gives you rest from all your surrounding enemies, so that you are living in safety; then you will bring all that I am ordering you to the place Adonai your God chooses to have his name live — your burnt offerings, sacrifices, tenths, the offering from your hand, and all your best possessions that you dedicate to Adonai; and you will rejoice in the presence of Adonai your God — you, your sons and daughters, your male and female slaves and the Levi staying with you, inasmuch as he has no share or inheritance with you. (Deuteronomy 12:10–12 CJB)

Even though the Levite has no land inheritance, all of Israel inherits the land and the rest and the security and the place where God dwells. Everyone inherits the joy of God’s presence. Moreover, the Levites did receive tangible provision through the tithes (Numbers 18:23–24). But tangible provision was not the whole of their inheritance. “But the L’vi’im have no share with you, because the office of cohen to Adonai is their inheritance” (Joshua 18:7).

Their inheritance also included their priestly vocation—the honor of serving, worshiping, and ministering before Adonai. It’s like saying that the relationship my son and I share is itself part of his inheritance. But there’s even one more definition of inheritance for the Levites. This is from next week’s parasha:

The Levitical kohanim, all the tribe of Levi, are to have no portion or inheritance with Israel. They are to eat the offerings made to Adonai by fire as His inheritance. They will have no inheritance among their brothers—Adonai is their inheritance, just as He promised them. (Deuteronomy 18:1–2 TLV)

God is their inheritance. He is with them. The one who brings rest and security, who dwells with them, he is the inheritance of the Levites. And although the Levites experienced this uniquely through their priestly calling, the entire nation ultimately shared in the greater inheritance—God himself dwelling among his people. And this inheritance is incorruptible. So, therefore, the Lord is your inheritance.

The time with my son, the joy and the teaching—that is his inheritance. But I am also his inheritance. Yes, we are saving up for his future, but that could all go away. What my son ultimately inherits from me isn’t primarily something tangible. It’s my presence. It’s the joy of learning together. Our greatest inheritance isn’t money, or any reward that can fade. It is God himself.

Blessed are the no-longer-potatoes, who listen and learn, for they shall enter his rest.

Blessed are those who submit their own will to the Father, for they will enjoy the presence of God.

But here’s the thing: not only is the Lord your inheritance, but you are his.

But you, Adonai has taken, and He brought you out of the iron furnace, out of Egypt to be a people for His own inheritance, as you are this day. (Deuteronomy 4:20 TLV)

In Messiah Yeshua this is expanded to the nations. The Son is given the nations, all the earth, as his inheritance:

I will proclaim the decree:

Adonai said to me,

“You are my son;

today I became your father.

Ask of me, and I will make

the nations your inheritance;

the whole wide world

will be your possession.” (Psalm 2:7–8 CJB)

And so, Scripture reminds us that before we ever inherit anything from God, God chose us as his inheritance. He delights in his people. We are our beloved’s inheritance, and he is ours. The One who gives rest. The One who dwells among his people. The One who, through Messiah Yeshua, welcomes all nations to be his inheritance.

So, if I as a mere human father delight in walking with my son through every stage of learning, kal va-chomer, how much more does our heavenly Father delight in teaching, being present, and leading his children into the inheritance that is ultimately himself?

Thankfulness is the Thing ‍

Parashat Ekev

‍Parashat Ekev, Deuteronomy 7:12–11:25; Haftarah, Isaiah 49:14–51:3

Joe Miterko, ‍Kol Mashiach, Melbourne, Florida‍ ‍

Then it will happen, as a result of your listening to these ordinances, when you keep and do them, that Adonai your God will keep with you the covenant kindness that He swore to your fathers. He will love you, bless you and multiply you. He will also bless the fruit of your womb and the produce of your soil, your grain and your new wine and your oil, the increase of your herds and the young of your flock, in the land that He swore to your fathers to give you. (Deuteronomy 7:12–13)  ‍‍ ‍

But Zion said: “Adonai has forsaken me, Adonai has forgotten me.” Can a woman forget her nursing baby or lack compassion for a child of her womb? Even if these forget, I will not forget you. Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of My hands. Your walls are continually before Me. (Isaiah 49:14–16)

In both the Torah and Haftarah readings, we see even in the first few verses the Lord’s burning desire to bless His people Israel. Moshe says that God will love us, bless us, and multiply us. Isaiah illustrates that He will not forget about us. Both display a beautiful picture. God wants us to prosper, and His desire is that we receive good gifts from Him. No matter what, He will guide his people through it all. ‍‍ ‍

We see this intense desire of Hashem wanting to bless His people all throughout the Scriptures. The psalmist pens, “The earth has yielded its harvest—God, our God will bless us. God will bless us, and all the ends of the earth will fear Him” (Psalm 67:7–8). In the Brit Chadasha, Paul writes, “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Yeshua the Messiah, who has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places in Messiah. He chose us in the Messiah before the foundation of the world, to be holy and blameless before Him in love” (Ephesians 1:3–4).‍‍ ‍

Because God so desires to bless us, we ought to be the most thankful people in the world. ‍ ‍ ‍

Birkat HaMazon: Thankfulness Every Day‍ ‍

Our parasha includes a famous passage: “So you will eat and be full, and you will bless Adonai your God for the good land He has given you” (Deuteronomy 8:10). This verse displays a specific order: we are commanded to eat first, then be satisfied, and then bless the Lord for all the good land, Eretz Yisrael, He has bestowed upon us. Because of this sequence, our sages introduced a set order for prayer after the meal. This is where the Birkat HaMazon (Grace after Meals) comes into play.‍ ‍

The Birkat HaMazon thanks God for all the provision He has given. It is not just for the food on the table, but includes beautiful details of the Land, the rebuilding of the Temple, and the ultimate reign of King Messiah. When recited in full, it can take twenty minutes or so. Many congregations will take on at least the first blessing, which says:‍‍ ‍

Praised are You, O Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, who feeds the whole world with goodness, with grace, with lovingkindness and mercy; God gives food to all creatures, for God’s mercy is everlasting. Through God’s abundant goodness we have never yet been in want; may we never be in want of sustenance for the sake of God’s great name. God nourishes and sustains all beings and does good to all, and provides food for all the creatures whom God has created. Praised are You, O Lord, who provides food for all. (Translation: Sefaria.org)

‍Birkat HaMazon and the Apostles

Did the followers of Yeshua interact with the Grace after Meals? According to the Didache, a second-century collection of sayings of the Apostles, they recited something like it after they ate. Didache Chapter 10 states, “But after you are filled, thus give thanks.” The blessing includes the following, “You gave food and drink to men for enjoyment, that they might give thanks to You; but to us You freely gave spiritual food and drink and life eternal through Your Servant.” Consistent with the Torah, the early followers of Yeshua obeyed this commandment. ‍‍ ‍

Paul also interacts with some form of Birkat HaMazon as he tells the Corinthians,‍‍ ‍

You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons. You cannot partake of the table of the Lord and the table of demons. . . . If I partake with thankfulness, why am I denounced because of something I give thanks for? Therefore, whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.” (1 Corinthians 10:21, 30–31)

This full chapter discusses the centrality of table fellowship. Do not eat, or give thanks, with bad company. Rather, treat the table as a holy altar. Be thankful. Be faithful to the Lord even with eating and drinking. ‍‍ ‍

Gratitude Until the End

‍Our haftarah reading is the second of seven Haftarot of Consolation. After the tragic day of Tisha B’Av, when we remember both Temples falling and numerous atrocities that struck our people, these readings are meant to provide consolation and healing to Israel. Our portion this week ends with these verses: ‍‍ ‍

“Listen to Me, you who pursue justice,
    you who seek Adonai.
Look to the rock from which you were hewn,
and to the quarry from which you were dug.
Look to Abraham your father
and to Sarah who bore you.
For when I called him, he was but one,
then I blessed him and multiplied him.”

‍ For Adonai will comfort Zion.
He will comfort all her waste places.
He will make her wilderness like Eden,
her desert like the garden of Adonai.
Joy and gladness will be found in her,
    thanksgiving and a sound of melody. (Isaiah 51:1-3)

‍ We see again God’s deep desire to bless His people through Abraham. The covenant established through Abraham’s seed is unbreakable. We also see that Zion will be redeemed at the end of days filled with joy, gladness, melody, and thanksgiving. Even in Isaiah’s vision of a restored Jerusalem, we will be giving thanks to God for all that He has provided. ‍‍ ‍

Thankfulness is the Thing ‍ ‍

According to neuroscientist Dr. Caroline Leaf, we make around 35,000 decisions each day. Some of these decisions are automatically made through cultivated habits. Others are made to reduce decision fatigue (the fear of too many choices). Still others can be learned and ingrained by a fascinating quality called neuroplasticity. This function allows the brain to change and adapt to new circumstances.‍‍

Being grateful for what we have is an everyday choice we must make. Will we acknowledge HaShem for all the blessings He gives us? Or will we boast in ourselves, rejecting his good council? ‍‍ ‍

Let us remember the good the Lord has done for our ancestors and the Good News of shalom and joy Messiah Yeshua has brought us. Let us always give thanks to the One who is worth thanking.

‍Nodeh Lecha—We thank you!

‍All Scripture references are from the Tree of Life Version, TLV.

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Tisha B’Av: Why We Mourn

Tisha B’Av 5786/2026

Rabbi Isaac Roussel, Chavurat Zera Avraham, Ann Arbor, MI

We are at the conclusion of the Three Weeks leading up to Tisha B’Av (July 22–23 this year). The Ninth of Av is a day of fasting on which we commemorate the destruction of the two Temples and many other calamities that have befallen our people over the centuries.

This day often goes unobserved in the non-Orthodox world. Some say that since we now have the State of Israel there is no need to mourn over a Temple destroyed 2,000 years ago.  Others say that the destruction of the Temple pales in comparison to the horrors of the Holocaust. There are some more liberal-minded Jews who even celebrate the destruction of the Temple because it means that we no longer have animal sacrifices.

I am sometimes asked why Messianic Jews should still observe this day since we have the risen Messiah. While I could go into many different reasons, my response to this question is fourfold.

First, we mourn because the world is not yet fully redeemed. The question above is rooted in a common misunderstanding of Yeshua’s death and resurrection. People tend to think that with his resurrection all is complete. In fact, this was just the beginning of redemption. Yes, Yeshua died, rose, and ascended to the Father’s right hand, but we still live in a fallen world. There is still poverty, suffering, disease, violence, and sin. Full redemption does not occur until his return. Rav Shaul says, “We know that until now, the whole creation has been groaning as with the pains of childbirth; and not only it, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we continue waiting eagerly to be made sons” (Romans 8:22–23).

Second, we mourn because we ourselves are not yet fully redeemed. Our reading from the prophets this week is the second haftarah of admonition, from the book of Jeremiah. In it the Lord mournfully declares, “My people have committed two evils: they have abandoned me, the fountain of living water, and dug themselves cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water!” (Jeremiah 2:13). This text is speaking to Israel’s idolatry, but we do this in many small ways on a regular basis ourselves. We take our eyes off the Lord to try to get what we want through our own efforts.  We scheme, gossip, speak harshly, ignore others’ pain, and are consumed with pride. Though we have forgiveness through the Messiah, we are still not fully redeemed. Our sins contribute to the suffering of this world. This is why the Rambam says that we fast on this day to recall that our evil deeds and those of our ancestors have caused the destruction (Hilkhot Ta’anit 5:1). And, I would add, continue to cause destruction in our lives and the lives of those around us. Tisha B’Av is not just a time of mourning, but a time of teshuvah, repentance.

Third, we mourn because Israel is not yet fully redeemed. Our movement’s strong evangelical Christian roots influence us to think individualistically. This perspective is at the core of the question, “I have the Messiah, so why should I mourn the Temple’s destruction?” But the fact is that both Scripture and Jewish tradition have a different perspective. We are individuals, but we are part of a wider community, for whom we are responsible. Judaism is not an “I-Thou” religion, it is a “We-Thou” religion. This is why the vast majority of the prayers in our Siddur are written in the plural. This includes our confessions of sin. We may not have committed a particular sin, but a fellow Jew may have. Our community as a whole has sinned, and we are all responsible. 

Yom Kippur is predominately focused on the individual before God. Rabbi Ismar Schorcsh, a former chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary, therefore, argues that this is why we need Tisha B’Av. He writes,

Yom Kippur and Tisha B’av are tandem. . . . Whereas Yom Kippur is set aside for self-reflection, Tisha B’av is dedicated to pondering the nation’s destiny. . . . To remove Tisha B’av from the liturgical structure is to accentuate the pursuit of personal salvation and to disrupt the carefully crafted equilibrium between individual need and group primacy.

We need both individual and corporate repentance. While we may have found the Messiah, our people by and large have not. We are a part of them and they are a part of us, therefore we need to focus on our joint destiny.

Finally, we mourn because God mourns. Both Scripture and our tradition repeatedly declare that God grieves over this broken world. Because we have a mutual destiny with God, we join in his sorrow over this unredeemed world. (And I believe that there is somber joy in sharing in his pain.) Our Sages understood that God suffers along with Israel and the world. The Talmud puts these words in God’s mouth, “Woe to the children, on account of whose sins I destroyed my house and burnt my Temple and exiled them among the nations of the world. . . . Woe to the Father who had to banish his children!”

One of my favorite interpretations of the Mourner’s Kaddish is based on this passage. Not only are we seeking God’s comfort in the loss of a loved one, but we in turn comfort God in that he has lost a child from the world too. Kaddish is therefore not just for the individual, but for the community to comfort God! I find this poignant and beautiful. There is something holy and sacred about sharing in God’s pain for the world.

Thus, I commend observance of Tisha B’Av to you. Yes, as Messianic Jews, we have the risen Messiah. But we still live in a world of poverty, disease, war, and oppression; a world that destroys temples. We ourselves contribute to this through our own sinful behavior. We are part of a people that is often far from God and desperately needs Messiah Yeshua. And we can join our weeping with God’s over this broken and unredeemed world.

The destruction of both Temples stands as a sign for all the destruction that exists in the world.

May the groans of our liturgy resonate with the groans of all Creation.

May our fast call us to teshuvah, repentance—repentance for our own sin that brings destruction into this world.

May we mourn for our people, who sometimes live lives far from God.

May we, amid our own mourning, comfort our Father, who weeps over his burnt House and the exile that not only Israel but the whole world experiences.

And thereby, we can bring healing to this world and speed the final redemption!