A Future Full of Promises

Haftarah for Shelach L’cha, Joshua 2:1–24

Rabbi David Friedman, Jerusalem

We all are grateful to have second chances.

Twenty-two years ago I was hit from behind by a truck at 100 kilometers an hour; my car was crushed. As the terrible crash began, I thought to myself, “Well, this is it. I’m going to die.” I spun a number of times on the highway from the impact, and stopped only after being hit again by another truck, this time frontally. Only my driver’s seat area remained intact. My car looked like an accordion. The windshield had smashed inward towards me. Yet I was not cut even once, nor did I have a piece of glass on me. I was not even bruised. I knew I had been given a second chance at life.

Our haftarah records a second chance for the people of Israel, after the failure of the first round of exploring the Land, in the previous generation. Joshua instructed his two explorers: “Go and see the Land and Jericho” (Josh 2:1, my translation). Likewise, Moshe had instructed the previous generation of explorers: “You must go up and see the Land, what it is like” (Num 13:18, my translation).

The “seeing” which that first generation of explorers carried out was one that did not “see” the destiny of the people in the Land. Ten of the twelve prominent men who were sent by Moshe “saw” only with their eyes, through fear, and not with their faith. They did not “see” with the memory of the covenant promises of the God of their fathers.

Yet both of Joshua’s explorers gave an optimistic report: “They said to Joshua, ‘Adonai has given the entire land into our hands. As well, the inhabitants of the Land are melting away before us’” (Josh 2:24, my translation).

The previous generation’s report about the Land of Israel hardly matched this one from Joshua’s generation. The explorers who entered the Land on these two different occasions saw things in contrasting ways. Joshua, Calev, and the two unnamed men sent by Joshua saw the nation’s destiny in the Land of Israel. They comprehended that this is where their future lay. Accordingly, the Land did not frighten them.

The other ten men under Moses’ direction were negative in their assessment of the people’s future in the Land of Israel. It is significant that we know the names of the men who failed God on that occasion: Shafat, Shammua, Yigal, Palti, Gadiel, Gadi, Ammiel, Stur, Nachbi and Geuel (Num 13:4–16).

Yet we do not know the names of the two explorers who gave a positive report from Joshua’s generation: “Joshua, the son of Nun, sent two spies in secret, from Shittim” (Josh 2:1a, my translation). They are referred to in a vague way throughout this chapter. Nameless. Faceless. A bit of a mystery to us. They are “some men” (2:2); “the two men (2:4, 8); “the men” (2:3, 5, 7); “them” (2:6).

I cannot shake the feeling that the Torah purposely cloaks the name of the faithful men, yet gives us openly the names of the men of the previously failed venture. Perhaps there is a lesson here: that one does not need to be famous, or from a prominent family, or personally accomplished, in order to influence the fate of our people. Instead, making the right choices is the paramount factor—not one’s name or status in society.

What was this second chance all about?

In the earlier generation, the people’s view of the Land was awry. This generation was given a chance to get it right, and so enter the Land and reap the blessings of being in the right place during a favored time. When we read this narrative, in the back of our minds we remember the report of the previous generation. They brought back with them physical proof of the goodness of our homeland. They could feel it and smell it. And yet their assessment was negative and fear inducing.

Would this happen with Joshua’s two men, too? It did not. Again, the two unnamed men “said to Joshua, ‘Adonai has given the entire land into our hands. As well, the inhabitants of the Land are melting away before us’” (Josh 2:24, my translation). Joshua had come to that same conclusion when he was sent into the Land by Moshe.

Joshua the son of Nun, and Kalev the son of Y’funeh, from the detachment that had reconnoitered the land, tore their clothes and said to the whole community of Israel, “The land we passed through in order to spy it out is an outstandingly good land! If Adonai is pleased with us, then he will bring us into this land and give it to us — a land flowing with milk and honey.” (Num 14:6–8 CJB)

The second chance was a redemptive act by which the previous generation’s failure would no longer impact the destiny of this generation. Through this renewed opportunity God showed himself to be merciful and faithful to his covenants.

I do not think our situation here in Israel is different today. How do we view the Land of Israel today? Do her incredibly deep and long list of difficulties cause us to lose sight of her eternal destiny, as elaborated upon in much of the Torah? We too can be like the ten who saw the Land not in her eternal beauty, but through fear. This resulted in viewing the Land, but not really “seeing” it. It is much harder to be like Joshua, Calev, and the two men sent by Joshua into the Land. But to see the Land like that is our challenge.

Negative reports about Israel fly around the media and public discourse daily—hatred of Israel, complaints about her living conditions, denunciations for her faults, criticism for her lack of spiritual awareness. When we hear these reports and when mortars and rockets are launched against Israel, how do we view her? All of these things occur regularly, but we don’t have to accept such a “seeing” nor should we. We have another chance, another opportunity, to see the Land from God’s perspective.

After 38 years of living here, I love this land with all of my being. Despite her shortcomings. When we see with God’s eyes (that is, his heavenly perspective), Israel is a land of promise, “a land flowing with milk and honey.”

The land you are crossing over to take possession of is a land of hills and valleys, which soaks up water when rain falls from the sky. It is a land Adonai your God cares for. The eyes of Adonai your God are always on it, from the beginning of the year to the end of the year. (Deut 11:9–11 CJB)

His holy mountain,

beautiful in elevation,

is the joy of all the earth,

Mount Zion, in the far north,

the city of the great King.

Within her citadels God has made himself

known as a fortress. (Ps 48:2 ESV)

You will no longer be spoken of as Abandoned,

or your land be spoken of as Desolate;

rather, you will be called My-Delight-Is-In-Her,

            and your land Married.

For Adonai delights in you,

            and your land will be married. (Isa 62:4 CJB)

If you have not had the chance to see the Land in such a light, I encourage you to take the opportunity to do so. It is still a good land with a future full of promises. After living my entire adult life here, I can assure you of that.

A Brand Plucked from the Fire

Haftarah for B’halot’cha, Zechariah 2:14–4:7

by Rabbi Russ Resnik

This week’s haftarah reading concludes with one of the most familiar and beloved verses in Scripture: “Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the Lord of hosts” (Zech 4:7b). It’s such a rousing conclusion that we might overlook the rest of Zechariah’s vision. But there’s much more in this vision, which we need to see afresh today.

The prophet sees the high priest, Joshua, standing before the angel of the Lord with ha-Satan, the adversary, “standing at his right side to accuse him. And the Lord said to Satan, ‘The Lord rebuke you, O Satan! The Lord who has chosen Jerusalem rebuke you! Is not this a brand plucked from the fire?’” We can see that Joshua’s garments are filthy—unfit for priestly service—but the angel says, “Behold, I have taken your iniquity away from you, and I will clothe you with pure vestments” (Zech 3:1b–4).

Joshua is restored and equipped for service, but how did his garments become unclean in the first place? An old Jewish interpretation is that Joshua got polluted because he was among those who tolerated intermarriage during the days of Ezra. Rashi says that he is the priest mentioned by name in Ezra 10:18:

Now there were found some of the sons of the priests who had married foreign women: Maaseiah, Eliezer, Jarib, and Gedaliah, some of the sons of Jeshua the son of Jozadak and his brothers.

Jeshua here is Yeshua in Hebrew, of course—the same name that our Messiah was given by his parents and that we use today. (Which leaves alternative “authentic” names of Messiah like “Yahshua” or “Yahushua” without any biblical basis. Yeshua appears in the Hebrew Bible, those names do not.) But whatever the source of Joshua/Yeshua’s defilement, the Lord decrees mercy, not judgment. The accuser is to be rebuked. This priest is a brand, a burning branch plucked from the flames of exile, and God still has a purpose for him. The Hebrew word for “brand” can also be translated “firebrand” as in Isaiah 7:4 and Amos 4:11—a branch drawn out of fire that bears fire itself as a crude torch. The light-bearing Joshua/Yeshua is a hint of the Yeshua to come, who will be plucked out of the fires of suffering and death to bear light to the world.

From out of the conflagration of exile and adversity comes a flame, however feeble, which God values and protects. The fire threatening destruction of God’s people ignites a flame that serves God’s purpose. Despite all the difficulties of the struggling Jewish community of Zechariah’s day, the fire of God’s Spirit still burns among them in the person of Yeshua the high-priest.

The classic Christian commentators Keil & Delitzsch note:

The priesthood of Israel was concentrated in the high priest, just as the character of Israel as the holy nation was concentrated in the priesthood. The high priest represents the holiness and priestliness of Israel . . . which had been graciously bestowed by God upon the nation of Israel. (citing Kliefoth, another commentator, on Zech 3:8)

God’s response to Israel’s failure is to graciously restore what he had graciously bestowed—a priestly service that will benefit all the nations (see Zech 2:15 [2:11]).  God’s response to Israel and its high priest in this vision is a word of encouragement for us within the Messianic Jewish community today.

Those of us who have been leaders and participants in our community for years can become discouraged and disheartened. Forty or fifty years into our Messianic Jewish journey we remain in many ways a struggling remnant. We find ourselves still divided on key issues and still seeking a firm foundation to build on. Like the high priest, we have sons and daughters who have wed themselves to foreign women and men, to foreign loyalties and beliefs, to foreign priorities. We constitute a community that can feel besieged and on the verge of being overwhelmed. We cannot be satisfied with our impact upon the wider Jewish community or our success in drawing Jewish people to their Messiah, Yeshua.

The words of the prophet bring great encouragement to us, however, for like Joshua the priest we are a brand plucked from the fire. The Messianic Jewish community was born out of the fires of alienation between the Jewish people and the Jewish Messiah, out of the age-old estrangement between the Jewish community and the body of Messiah. We have a long way to go, but this simple fact of our existence remains astounding and transformative.

The angel’s rebuke on behalf of Joshua shouldn’t be seen as making excuses for Joshua’s failures. Yes, he has fallen short, but he is a brand plucked from the fire and God has a purpose for him still. We also have fallen short, but we are like Joshua, a brand plucked from the fire, and God has a purpose for us as well, which he will accomplish by his Spirit despite our shortcomings.

With such a vision in sight let's hear anew Zechariah’s words of empowerment: Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit says the Lord of hosts.

Leaders We Deserve

Haftarah Naso, Judges 13:2–25

Rabbi Paul L. Saal, Congregation Shuvah Yisrael, West Hartford, CT

I certainly do not want to retell the story of Samson in detail. You know it. You’ve heard it before. You may have even seen or heard any number of dramatizations. Of course, there is the famous 1949 Cecil B. DeMille film starring Victor Mature and Hedy Lamarr (that’s Hedy not Headly!). This version was nominated for five Academy Awards and won two (probably for “most over-acted”). Subsequent versions abound (1984, 1996, and yet another version expected this year). George Frideric Handel, Newburgh Hamilton, Camille Saint-Saëns, and Ferdinand Lemaire all compose operas and librettos themed around this story. Most bizarre is the 1963 Italian film mash-up Hercules, Samson and Ulysses, where Samson is helped by the Greek/Italian mythological characters fighting the Phoenicians (Phoenicians, Philistines, what’s the diff?). https://www.youtube.com/watch?reload=9&v=gxni6VZd4II

So what’s the point? It is almost impossible to have lived in Western society without having encountered this story, even if it comes to us with diverse embellishments. What differs is how we perceive and think of the person of Samson, and how this biblical star informs our own biblical understandings. Is Samson a hero or a scoundrel? Is he a tragic figure or a prototype of redemption? Does he truly repent at the end or does he simply continue in his lifelong patterns of seeking vengeance, tearing down the temple of Dagon upon himself along with the Philistines when his own life came to the proverbial end of the road?

My own early bromance with Samson began when I purchased a vinyl 33rpm biblical narration done by actor Leif Erickson in 1968 at the Temple Emanuel book sale in Mt. Vernon, New York. The front side story was the battle of Jericho, and on the flip side was the Samson story. As a 10-year-old boy I was only mildly interested in Joshua and Jericho—but Samson—wow! Samson was a super hero, the miracle birth and Nazarite vow were his origin story, and the haircut was his kryptonite.

What most caught my interest was the putting out of his eyes with a hot poker. This recording had a long, anguished scream which had a hypnotic effect on my young psyche. I listened to it over and over until I created a groove in the vinyl that only caused the recording to get stuck on the horrific screams longer. I could not understand at the time what my attraction was to this violent comeuppance, and I am sure my parents were a little disturbed by my fascination. In retrospect I think it was the first time I had ever come face to face with the reality that even the best among us have consequences for our actions. Samson was not like the comic characters I loved back then (and now!) who may have gotten knocked around, but I knew were going to triumph in the end. Samson was not a superman, he was everyman, and would get called on the carpet for bad action and wasted opportunity.

To say that Samson was born to privilege would be an understatement. An angel of Hashem literally came to the wife of Manoah to tell her that her child was special in the womb and would be until his death. But “with great power comes great responsibility” (ughh!). His mother was told that he would be a Nazarite and therefore would need to avoid strong drink and would not cut his hair. The hair was not his superpower as I had imagined, it was a public sign and display of his covenant responsibility. The book of Ruth begins with the words “bimei sh’fot hashoftim, in the days when the judges judged” (Ruth 1:1). This phrase is often translated when the judges ruled or governed. But the Hebrew for both judge and judged has the same root as the word mishpatim or ordinances. In other words, the judges were governors who governed in accordance with the righteous standards of Hashem, those given by the hand of Moses. Samson was given his power and status to rule Israel in accord with Hashem’s highest values, not to enrich himself or satisfy his every desire.

Throughout the narrative of Samson’s life (Judges 13:1–16:31) we get the picture of a young man not fully prepared for public service. He was continually motivated by a kind of 1500 BCE celebrity, and often ignored the instruction that his mother was given when he was still pre-natal. He pursued foreign women, consumed the fruit of the vine, acted violently for the sake of vengeance and financial gain. He was a bully and a braggart, and he mocked and intimidated and antagonized others. He rarely considered the needs of the people of the tribe of Dan who he was meant to govern, often bringing hardship upon them. When he eventually divulged the source of his great strength to the enigmatic Delilah, it is not his hair that is revealed as the true source of his power, rather it is the covenant with the Holy One of Israel, of which his un-sheared coif is emblematic.

It is easy to look at Samson’s successes and his failures from afar. He was selfish, but he eventually made it right. Or when backed into a corner he eventually fulfilled the purposes for which he was called. But the truth is that Samson’s story is all of Israel’s. We are told in Judges 17:6 that “in those days Israel had no king and everyman did what was right in his own eyes.” Perhaps the reference to king is the yet anointed line of David, but I think it more likely is an allusion to the One who anoints. Israel failed to acknowledge the true source of governance and protection. Samson was merely a reflection of his time and a symptom of the illness that had befallen God’s people. Without the God of Israel, they could not be the people of Israel; they were merely a loose affiliation of tribal states. Without Hashem’s highest standards (mitzvot and mishpatim), they could not possess the land of promise; they merely resided tentatively and insecurely in that land. Samson was not the source of Israel’s failure, he was precisely the leader they deserved.

When Samson pulled down the Temple of Dagon he did not solve the Philistine problem. He did, though, acknowledge the Samson problem. Although physically blind he could finally see. His sight became Hashem’s vision, and he finally had a lasting victory. In that moment he became enshrined in the legacy of Israel, and forever imprinted in the imagination of the world. He was buried among his tribe and considered a leader in Israel. He is ranked among the heroes of the faith (Hebrews 11:32) even though he fails to live up to his great gifts. He is a tragic example of man of enormous potential who lacked stability of character. Every 10-year-old child can know once and for all that it is not brute strength or oppressive power that accomplishes the will of Hashem, but rather his strength displayed through our vulnerability. If we will allow ourselves to be vulnerable, perhaps then we will truly get the leaders we deserve.

Don't Follow Your Heart

Haftarah for B’har-B’chukotai

by Rabbi Russ Resnik

Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young. (Bob Dylan, Planet Waves)

Have you ever wished that you could start over? That you could be “forever young”—going back to your earliest years of life to erase all your mistakes, cancel all your debts, undo all your sins?

This may sound like wishful thinking, but it was a reality in the Torah legislation of the Jubilee. From one Jubilee to the next, the Israelites counted forty-nine years—seven sevens of years. Seven, the number of perfection, was itself perfected. Then came the fiftieth year, in which Moses instructed the people to “proclaim liberty throughout all the land,” so that “you shall return, each man to his holding and you shall return each man to his family” (25:10). The liberty of Jubilee restores to its original owners any land holding that had been sold, and to his family any Israelite who had sold himself into slavery. Jubilee returns Israel to the original order that the Lord intended for it, the order that he will restore forever in the age to come. The sages of the Talmud said that Jubilee provides a foretaste of “the day that will be all Shabbat, and rest for everlasting life” (b.Tamid 33b).

Our haftarah for the combined reading of B’har-B’chukotai, however, reflects the challenge of getting from this age to the age that is all Shabbat, for “the sin of Judah is written with a pen of iron; with a point of diamond it is engraved on the tablet of their heart” (Jer 17:1). Lest we think that Jeremiah is speaking only of Judah’s heart condition, and not of the heart condition of the whole human race, he continues a few verses down:

The heart is deceitful above all things,

and desperately sick;

who can understand it?

I the Lord search the heart and test the mind,

to give every man according to his ways,

according to the fruit of his deeds. (17:9-10)

The heart is deceitful and “desperately sick” is one of the great counter-cultural statements of Scripture. In an age in which we’re taught to follow our hearts, the words of Jeremiah provide a radical rebuke. You can’t trust your heart. God is looking for fruitful deeds, not lofty sentiment. But the prophet also gives hope, reflecting the hope of Jubilee and restoration outlined in our double parashah: 

Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed;

save me, and I shall be saved,

for you are my praise. (17:14)

This prayer of hope has been incorporated into the Siddur as the eighth blessing of the Amidah, the traditional series of blessings recited every day. The Siddur changes its language from singular to plural: “Heal us O Lord and we shall be healed; save us and we shall be saved, for you are our praise.”  

Jeremiah reveals that the hope of restoration, the jubilee to come, is greater than the threat of failure and punishment—and that this hope doesn’t depend on us, but on the healing, restorative power of Hashem. He is our praise! The corporate language of the Siddur reflects other portrayals of this same promise throughout Scripture, showing that it is not only a personal hope, but a promise for all Israel, and the whole of humankind as well.

The accounts of the coming of Messiah echo this hope, as well as the barriers to be overcome on the way to it. When Yochanan the Immerser was bound in prison, he sent two of his disciples to ask Yeshua, “Are you the Coming One, or do we look for another?” Yeshua answered in the language of Jubilee, specifically, like Jeremiah, the language of healing and restoration. The restoration of the age to come had already broken into this age, so Yochanan should know who Yeshua was. “Go and tell Yochanan the things that you hear and see: The blind see and the lame walk; the lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear; the dead are raised up and the poor have good news proclaimed to them. And blessed is he who is not offended because of me” (Matt 11:2–6).

But why would one be offended by Yeshua? Because he claims to be Messiah at a time when the Jubilee is not fully established. Yochanan remains imprisoned. Roman armies occupy the land of Israel. But Yeshua shows that the Jubilee has indeed begun with his arrival in Israel, and so will inevitably be fulfilled. In the meantime, do not be offended, but maintain hope.

Once when I was talking with a non-Messianic Jewish friend about Yeshua, he said, “OK, Yeshua is a great guy. I’ll even accept that he is the greatest guy, but Messiah—who knows? Besides, who needs a Messiah?”

I could have reminded my friend of the Jeremiah’s warning. The heart is deceitful and desperately sick—and “Who needs a Messiah” is one of its lies. Or on a friendlier note I could have said that I need a Messiah and Yeshua has proved himself as Messiah to me . . . and that if you ever figure out that you need a Messiah, Yeshua will be there for you too.

Instead, I focused on the corporate aspect. You may not realize that you need a Messiah, but you cannot deny that this world does. Just look at the suffering, injustice, and oppression all around us. Yeshua embodies the hope of liberty, of a return to God’s order and justice that is rooted in the Torah and reflected throughout our Scriptures and prayers. Yeshua has already launched a restoration that has had immeasurable impact on the world we live in, and is evidence of the redemption to come. My personal story of salvation is only a foretaste of the worldwide Jubilee that Messiah will bring.

It’s fitting that our traditional prayers expand Jeremiah’s plea for healing from the singular to the plural. In age when each person is urged to follow his or her own heart, Scripture pictures a redemption that goes far beyond the personal to bring hope to all the nations, as in the opening words of our haftarah:

O Lord, my strength and my stronghold,

my refuge in the day of trouble,

to you shall the nations come

from the ends of the earth . . . (Jer 16:9)

Adapted from Creation to Completion: A Guide to Life’s Journey from the Five Books of Moses, by Rabbi Russell Resnik, Messianic Jewish Publishers, 2006

Back to the Basics

Haftarah for Parashat Emor

by Michael Hillel, Netanya, Israel

Growing up as a teenager on the Mississippi gulf coast, I could not wait to finish high school and spread my wings and fly. I was operating under the youthful understanding of freedom as being free of restraints. It did not take me long, however, to discover the error of my thoughts. You see, my choice for expressing that freedom was to join the US Marine Corps.

The first stop on my freedom trail was Marine Basic at Paris Island, South Carolina. Dressed according to the fashion of the day, I got off the bus in blue jeans, combat boots, a t-shirt and a blue jean jacket with a Confederate flag on the back (I did mention I was from Mississippi, remember). I never saw that jacket again. It went the way of my hair, which, while not exceptionally long, was definitely not standard Marine length. During the next three months I learned much and can confidently say that the boy who got off the bus was totally different from the Marine that left Paris Island two and a half months later. My attitudes toward life changed as well. Instead of a hypothetical concept of freedom, I was now looking at what it meant to be a Marine, as well as actually being a man of integrity.

This week’s haftarah portion, Ezekiel 44:15–31, relates to the parashah in that it contains regulations for which the priests would be responsible. Among the restrictions and limitations described, two verses are probably more important than all the other ritual requirements in the passage. Hashem, speaking through Ezekiel, gives this charge to the priests:

They will teach My people the difference between the holy and the common and explain to them the difference between the unclean and the clean. In a lawsuit, they will stand to judge, and judge in accordance with My ordinances. They will keep My laws and My statutes in all My moadim and keep My Shabbatot holy. (44:23–24, TLV)

Notice it says “They will teach", not “they will minister”, or “they will mediate”, both of which are priestly responsibilities. In his commentary on this haftarah, Dr. Meir Tamari brings to our attention the root of the word Kohen (priest) and related words. The root is K-H-N and related words are nakhon, “correct” or “suitable” for a certain purpose, and meikhin, “to prepare” or “to provide a firm clear basis” (Truths Desired by God [Jerusalem: Gefen Publishing House, 2011] 169). Priests are to prepare the people of Israel and correct them so they walk the correct way.

Maybe the prophet understood the future adage, Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime. Only instead of a fish, the priests were to teach the people of Israel how to discern right from wrong, and what is moral and ethical from what is not. The relationship Hashem wanted with his people was never intended to be one-sided or to be a spectator sport where the people watched the priests do their thing. So much so that Hashem gave Israel a Day-Timer, so to speak, with specific meeting times throughout the year to meet with him and to serve as a reminder of his care and grace on their behalf.

Some of the rules and regulations seemed to separate the kohanim from the common people, especially in their function as priest and mediator. However, as teachers, guides, and judges, the kohanim were one with the people. They had to learn Hashem’s ways so that they could teach Israel. Being a teacher, then like today, comes with its own special set of problems. A teacher’s life and practice are often scrutinized and inspected for shortcomings. In his letter to the Messianic believers in the Diaspora, where learning the ways of the Lord would be a bit more difficult due to foreign rule, culture, and society, James wrote, “Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers and sisters, since you know that we will receive a stricter judgment” (3:1 TLV). Teaching is not to be avoided but teachers need to realize that they are responsible not only for the material being taught, but also for the lives in which they are investing. Look, for example, at Yeshua’s training of the Twelve. They did not come to class a couple hours a day and then go off to work or play or whatever. For approximately three years the Twelve did seemingly everything together with Yeshua— not only learning the Master’s words but experiencing his life and habits as well. His charge to them was to follow him (Mark 1:17), to learn from him, to emulate him.

We are each a teacher to someone, possibly even without our knowledge. Within our sphere of influence, there are people that desire a closer relationship with the Lord but do not know how to get it or maybe maintain it. There are others who, knowing of our faith, think we are a bit meshuga, while at the same time they are curious about why we are doing what we are doing. Some folks need the intensity of Marine Basic Training, while others just need a gentle guide or a soft word to learn what they need next. Are we up to the task of teaching his people? If not, let’s be willing to learn together as we journey with him.

The Gift That Bears Responsibility

Haftarah for Acharei Mot-Kedoshim

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

Whenever there is a double parasha like this week, usually we read the haftarah associated with the second parasha. With Acharei Mot-Kedoshim (Leviticus 16:1–20:27), however, this is not the case; we read the haftarah from the first parasha, Acharei Mot.

Why this departure from the norm? The reason is that the content of the haftarah of Kedoshim is less than desirable. The reading is from Ezekiel 20, which details the woe that will be visited upon Israel for its sins against God. It is often referred to as Hatishpot from verse 4, which means, “Are you willing to pronounce judgment?” This begins the dark litany of Israel’s sins. Just as we read the Torah portion of the sin of the golden calf in a subdued voice, our Sages desired not to read this haftarah unless it was absolutely necessary.  So when the portions were combined, the custom developed to read the selection from the Prophets for Acharei Mot instead of Kedoshim. This haftarah is taken from the ninth chapter of Amos. It, too, contains words of judgment upon Israel but it also offers words of comfort and hope.

Parashat Kedoshim opens with the verse, “You shall be holy, for I, the Lord your God, am holy” (Lev 19:1). This implies that Israel has a unique relationship with God. This is attested in other passages as well, where God says that we are a treasured possession (Deut 7:6), engraved on his palms (Isa 49:16), and the apple of his eye (Zech 2:8).

The opening verse of our haftarah seems to challenge this. “To me, Israelites, you are just like the Ethiopians, declares the Lord. True, I brought you up from Egypt, but also the Philistines from Caphtor and the Arameans from Kir” (Amos 9:7). There are many different views, both positive and negative, on what this verse means. Rashi interprets it as a rebuke. God is telling Israel that he is concerned for all peoples, not just them. Therefore Israel should not assume that she will go unpunished for her sins. Amos points out that chosenness is not just a gift, but a gift that bears responsibility.

Christianity tends to view God’s demand of holiness as primarily ethical in nature. God is holy and good, therefore he demands that his people be as well. While this is true, Judaism has a significantly different understanding. The reason for the demand for holiness is primarily covenantal rather than ethical. God chooses Israel, redeems her, and establishes a relationship that includes responsibilities on both God’s part and Israel’s.

Israel is a partner with God in the redemption of the world. Partners have obligations under the covenant that establishes that partnership.

Kedoshim details over fifty different mitzvot that are part of this covenantal relationship. This fact emphasizes that our pact with God is primarily based on deeds, not faith. If we act in an ill manner, we reflect poorly on Hashem, the Lord. This is called Hillul Hashem in our tradition; Defamation of God’s Name. We have this impact because we are connected to him in a special relationship. Just as an employee represents a company, or a child represents a family, we represent God. Our actions matter. 

This difference between Christian and Jewish (and, hence, Messianic Jewish) understanding cannot be overstated. The Church has been grafted into these covenantal responsibilities as well. The Church can learn this perspective from our movement.  

We are covenantally obligated to lead a life of Torah and mitzvot. If we do so, we enhance our unique role. If not, we undermine it and merely become like any other nation on earth.

May we live up to our calling of being partners with Hashem.

May we lives of Kiddush Hashem; sanctification of his Name.

And thereby seal ourselves as a Kingdom of Priests and a Holy Nation. A truly treasured possession of God’s.

God Has Bigger Plans

Haftarah for Shemini, 2 Samuel 6:1-7:17

Dr. Vered Hillel, Netanya, Israel

The haftarah for Parashat Shemini contains two crucial events in the development of ancient Israel, whose ramifications affected the entire world.

After David was crowned king in Hebron (2 Sam 5:1–5), he conquered Jerusalem (vv. 6–10) and defeated the Philistines (vv. 17–25). Our haftarah picks up just following these events, when King David decides to bring the Ark of the Covenant up to Jerusalem from the home of Abinadav, where it had remained since being returned to the Land of Israel by the Philistines in the time of Samuel (1 Sam 6:21–7:2).

The haftarah can be divided into three or four distinct parts. Part one (2 Sam 6:1–15), the story of David bringing the Ark to Jerusalem, has two sub-parts: 1) the aborted attempt to bring the Ark from the house of Abinadav when Uzzah was killed for touching the Ark, and 2) the successful attempt to bring the Ark to Jerusalem from the House of Obed-Edom where it had rested for three months. Part three (7:1–17) includes the conversations between David and Nathan about building the Temple as a permanent dwelling place for the Ark, and the promise of a perpetual house (dynasty) for David’s lineage. Sandwiched between these two monumental events is a snippet of David’s domestic life (6:16–23): his interactions with his wife, Michal, who brusquely rebukes him for acting in a manner that was unbefitting a king during the celebration.

Thus, our haftarah begins with the Ark at rest in the home of Abinadav and ends with the promise of its future home in the Temple.

The death of Uzzah for grasping the Ark clearly connects the haftarah with the parasha, which records the deaths of Nadav and Avihu for offering “strange fire” in the Tabernacle on the day of its dedication (Lev 9). These episodes are puzzling. Why did Hashem kill these three men for their actions? Was there sin, or were there character flaws, to justify such drastic punishment? Were wrong motives the cause? We can speculate much, but the Bible tells us nothing explicitly. We do, however, get the impression that they were serving God, but were they acting according to his instructions, or from their own experience? Once again, we cannot definitively answer this question, but it does challenge us to look at our own lives. We need to ask ourselves whether we are serving God out of specific directions from him and his word, or assuming that our own reasoning and experience can properly guide us in serving God properly.

David’s request to build a permanent home for the Ark and Hashem’s response emphasize seeking direction from God. Three months after the death of Uzzah, the Ark is brought to Jerusalem and set in a tent that David provides (2 Sam 6:17). However, David desires a more permanent building for the Ark. At first, Nathan the prophet encourages David to do what he desires, but later that night, Nathan receives a prophecy to the contrary. In the morning Nathan returns to David and tells him what Hashem has said. Initially Hashem deflects David’s request. Since the Exodus he has been dwelling in the Tabernacle, which was a suitable dwelling place, and moved about with Israel.

In a twist of irony, it is not David who will build a house for Hashem, but Hashem who will build one for David.

Hashem promises that he will provide a safe place for the people of Israel where they will have relief from all their enemies, and that he will build a permanent dynastic house for David. The promise that divine favor will never be withdrawn from David’s family, as it was from Saul’s descendants, provides the basis for the Davidic Dynasty and the Davidic covenant that eventually was understood as a divine promise of the Davidic messiah.

Early in the prophecy, Hashem asks David, “Are you the one to build a house for me?” (2 Sam 7:5). This question leaves room for someone else to build the Temple. Hashem promised that one of David’s descendants would be the one to build a house for him (2 Sam 7:13). Physically this is fulfilled by Solomon, who at the dedication of the Temple presents himself as the legitimate heir of the dynasty. But both the question and the promise that a descendant of David would build the house for Hashem refer to a greater messianic hope. The kingship and renewed Temple have been two pillars of messianic hope in Judaism ever since then. Yeshua is the promised son of David who fulfills these prophecies made so long ago and provides us with the hope for a greater, permanent restoration and dwelling place with Hashem.

David desired to build a house for God; this was his own reasoning and way of serving Hashem. His desire came from being a man after God’s own heart. Yet Hashem had different plans, the results of which were way beyond the desire of David’s heart.

He desired to provide a permanent place for Hashem to dwell on earth in the midst of Israel. God’s plans were bigger and broader than David imagined. He desired a permanent dwelling among men through the enfleshment of Messiah Yeshua. The same is true for us today. Hashem’s plans are bigger and greater than our hearts’ desires. We serve God through Yeshua with all of hearts. We learn to walk after him and in his ways. Still we need to remember and to be aware to seek his direction and counsel.

As we walk out our relationship with God and work out our salvation (Phil 2:12), may we all be like David, whose heart’s desires led to Hashem’s greater plans, and like Moshe who chose to know God’s ways and not just the things he does (cf. Ps 103:7), and like Yeshua who was willing to follow his father’s directions even unto death, which led to his resurrection and ascension, and provided redemption for the world.

Messiah’s Job Description is Also Our Own

Haftarah for Shabbat Pesach VIII, Isaiah 10:32–12:6

Rabbi Stuart Dauermann, PhD

We are a community excited about Messianic prophecy. It fortifies our faith in our claims about Yeshua, and we look to texts like this week’s haftarah reading to equip us for propagating and defending our faith. All of this is good.

But it would also be good for us to realize that we who are intimately joined to him through repentance, faith, and immersion in his Spirit, are also meant to bear his image. After all, we are reminded, “as the Messiah is, so are we in the world” (1 John 4:17). Yeshua himself reinforced this radical identification when he told his disciples,

If the world hates you, understand that it hated me first. If you belonged to the world, the world would have loved its own. But because you do not belong to the world—on the contrary, I have picked you out of the world—therefore the world hates you. Remember what I told you, “A slave is not greater than his master.” If they persecuted me, they will persecute you too; if they kept my word, they will keep yours too. (John 15:18–20)

The Apostle Paul applied this principle even to a Messianic prophecy which he referenced by extension to himself and his team at Pisidian Antioch.When the synagogue there rejected their message, he responded by citing Isaiah 49, which applies to Messiah:

It was necessary that God’s word be spoken first to you. But since you are rejecting it and are judging yourselves unworthy of eternal life—why, we’re turning to the Goyim! For that is what Adonai has ordered us to do: “I have set you as a light for the Goyim, to be for deliverance to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 13:46–47, CJB, emphasis added)

All of this being true, let’s ask and answer this question: “How, if at all, ought the description of the Messiah in Isaiah 11, part of today’s haftarah, also be true of us?” The description opens with these words:

But a branch will emerge from the trunk of Yishai,
a shoot will grow from his roots.
The Spirit of Adonai will rest on him,
the Spirit of wisdom and understanding,
the Spirit of counsel and power,
the Spirit of knowledge and fearing Adonai. (Isa 11:1–2)

This passage is almost universally recognized as referring to Messiah, as Avraham Ibn Ezra reminds us in his 12th century commentary. How it applies not only to Messiah but also to us is an important issue which, when taken seriously, sets a demanding job description before us individually and collectively. I suggest strongly that we take it seriously, for the same one of whom Paul said “Adonai has ordered us to do (this)” is ordering us as well. What then is he ordering us to do, out of our Spirit-embodied solidarity with the Risen One? As God’s obedient servant-children, we will:

• walk in understanding that the same Spirit rests upon us as rested upon him
• manifest wisdom and understanding in all relationships and circumstances of life
• embody sound counsel wedded to spiritual power
• be characterized by both knowledge of holy things and reverence for Adonai
• judge not by what our eyes see or our ears hear, which can be deceptive, but judge justly and fairly for the disenfranchised and powerless
• deal decisively and appropriately with social evils and wickedness as we encounter them
• have a reputation for justice and fairness.

And if we will consistently and increasingly do these things, inspired by the example of Yeshua our risen King, and imbued with his very own Spirit, we will make an irreplaceable contribution to a world where

• characteristic animosities will be reversed (11:6–8)
• peacefulness and wholeness will replace the spirit of violence and opposition so prevalent today (11:9)
• relational knowledge of and experience with the Divine Presence will become richly and universally manifest
• and the fullness of Israel and of the nations for which all creation awaits will be accomplished (11:10–16).

Or, on the other hand, we can let things continue as they are, exacting from ourselves no uncomfortable demands, while not bothering to be agents of change in the world. We can just let tikkun olam be somebody else’s job.

What choice will we make? And how will that choice be embodied in what we plan and what we do from this time forward?

We are accountable for whatever may follow.

The One Who Doesn’t Change

Shabbat HaGadol, Malachi 3:4–24

by Dr. David Friedman, Union rabbi, Jerusalem

One of the most compelling verses in the Prophets comes in this week’s haftarah reading: "Since I, ADONAI, have not changed, so you sons of Jacob have not been annihilated” (Mal 3:6, my translation).

This verse certainly had great meaning in its peshat (plain sense) to Malachi’s hearers in the 5th century BCE. It gave a reason for the Jewish exiles in the Persian Empire to understand why they were thriving and being treated remarkably well. It imbued them with hope for their future. Yet I cannot help but think that it reveals a general principle that has held true for our Jewish people throughout our entire history.

In Malachi’s time, the return to Israel by the descendants of the Babylonian exiles was underway. Scholars surmise that Malachi was active at the time of Nehemiah and Ezra, or just afterwards. Israel had committed idolatry, leading to the exile. Yet Malachi 3:6 relays the reason that this exile was not permanent, and why the Babylonians (and later the Persians) did not commit genocide against our people.

It is undoubtedly the same reason why the Crusades, the Inquisitions, the Eastern European pogroms, the Muslim conquests across the Middle East, and the Holocaust did not totally destroy our Jewish people. This is also some of the reason why the diasporas in Egypt, Babylon, Europe, the lands of the Middle East, Europe and the West have not resulted in the disappearance of the Jewish people. God has “not changed.” He still has promises to fulfill to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, given some 1,200 years before Malachi lived. They were still valid in his day. Looking backwards in time, God inspired Malachi to share this powerful truth with our ancestors: God will fulfill the promises he made to our forefathers. The fulfillment of these promises necessitates that the Jewish people will be alive, and be in the Land of Israel.

It is not usual to dwell on just one verse in a haftarah commentary. Yet there is so much more to say about this same verse. Malachi 3:6 is also of importance to us today, some 2,500 years after he uttered it. That is one powerful truth, to still ring true throughout such a long passage of time!

How are Malachi’s words instructive to us today?

As anti-Israel sentiment gains ground across the Middle East; as Israel-hatred and the BDS movement continue on as “popular” and “politically correct” policies in much of Europe, Malachi’s truth can encourage us. As Lebanon is home to 150,000 rockets that are aimed at Israel, and as Iran verbally threatens Israel with total annihilation on a weekly basis, undeterred from their plans by any Western powers, Malachi 3:6 has a message for us today. It meshes with the tone of the entire body of Scripture, including this verse:

And Judah will exist forever, and Jerusalem, from generation to generation (Joel 3:20, my translation).

Malachi 3:6 supports the message of Joel 3:20, among many other verses that portray Israel as being present at the time of Messiah’s return.

Our haftarah also includes Malachi 3:17, which delivers a powerful, parallel message of God’s protection over the people of Israel:

They (the Jewish people) will be mine, says the God of the Heavenly Armies. For on the day that I will make them a king’s treasure, then I will give them abundant mercies, as a father has mercy on his son, who works alongside him. (My translation)

In this verse, the Hebrew word segulah is used for “king’s treasure.” This word describes how God views the people of Israel in the times beyond Malachi’s lifetime. In this verse, we learn that God’s love, mercy, and calling to Israel have not abated. This word, segulah, is the same word that is used in Exodus 19:5: “then you will be my own treasure from among all the peoples, for all the earth is mine” (Exod 19:5b, my translation). The earth’s King is speaking through Malachi’s message, and so it is the King’s treasure that the prophet speaks about.

Our haftarah ends with a summary lesson. Our rabbis possibly put the book of Malachi as the last book of the Latter Prophets due to this very lesson. They wanted this lesson to echo in the collective memory and lives of our people until the renewal of all things, and Messiah Yeshua's return. Here it is:

Remember the Torah of Moses my servant that I taught him at Horev, for all Israel; the laws and judgments.

Look, I am sending to you Elijah the Prophet before the coming of the Day of the great and awesome God.

And he will return the heart of fathers to their sons, and the heart of sons to their fathers, or I would come and strike the earth with utter destruction. (Mal 3:22–24, my translation)

This “Torah of Moses” includes the promises to our forefathers. Malachi helps us to remember the precious Torah, our Bible, through these three verses and through a verse like 3:6.

With Passover beginning shortly, let us remember that our freedom from Egypt was given so that we could follow Messiah without hindrance in our own Land. Because God has not changed (see 3:6 again), we are alive and carry that same calling that was given to Moses and his generation. We are their continuance today. And this Shabbat, Malachi is our encourager to continue on, because God is still the same God that he was 3,300 years ago, when he spoke from Mt. Sinai.

May you all have a healthy and Happy Passover.

From Jerusalem, Rabbi David

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Hope Undying

Shabbat HaChodesh 5778

by Rabbi Russ Resnik

This week culminates in Shabbat HaChodesh, the New Moon of the first month (March 16–17), which means Passover is only two weeks away, at the full moon. Now, New Moon might sound like an esoteric topic in our high-tech urban world, but we’ll see that it’s actually most relevant—not just to the simple agricultural life of our ancestors, but to our lives as well.

New Moon observance was definitely relevant to the imperial authorities who ruled over Israel in the time of the Maccabees. To consolidate his power, Emperor Antiochus sought to force the Jews into the mold of the dominant Hellenistic culture. According to some sources, he banned three essential mitzvot: circumcision, Shabbat, and blessing the New Moon. Now, the first two mitzvot are Jewish identity markers given in Torah (Gen 17:11; Exod 31:13, 17). But why a ban on blessing the New Moon? Because on this mitzvah the entire Jewish calendar depended. Without an official notice of the New Moon, the rest of the calendar would collapse. Passover and the rest of the holy days would soon be lost.

There’s an additional reason for the ban, which Antiochus might not have been aware of, but the evil spiritual forces behind his strategy were. New Moon is a sign of renewal, of the unquenchable resiliency of the Jewish people.

Just as the moon disappears at the end of each month, but returns and grows in fullness, so Israel may suffer exile and decline, but it always renews itself [better: is always renewed by God]—until the coming of Messiah, when the promise of the Exodus and the Revelation at Sinai will be fulfilled, never to be dimmed again. (Artscroll Chumash on Exod 12:2)

In this week’s Haftarah reading, Ezekiel portrays the renewed temple of the Age to Come, and the “prince” who serves within it. 

It shall be the prince’s duty to furnish the burnt offerings, grain offerings, and drink offerings, at the feasts, the new moons, and the Sabbaths, all the appointed feasts of the house of Israel. . . . Thus says the Lord God: In the first month, on the first day of the month [the new moon], you shall take a bull from the herd without blemish, and purify the sanctuary. (Ezek 45:17a, 18)

The New Moon will continue to be marked and sanctified, even in the Age to Come. Its importance is underscored in the genealogy of Messiah as Matthew summarizes it: “Thus there were fourteen generations from Avraham to David, fourteen generations from David to the Babylonian Exile, and fourteen generations from the Babylonian Exile to the Messiah” (Matt 1:17 CJB). Fourteen doesn’t represent the literal number of generations in each segment; rather, it is the numerical equivalent of “David” spelled dalet, vav, dalet in Hebrew. Dalet is the sign for four and vav for six, so dalet vav dalet, David, equals fourteen, underlining Yeshua’s descent from King David.

Moreover, fourteen is the number of days between the new moon on day one and the full moon on day fifteen. Matthew is framing his genealogy within the cyclical renewal of the moon. Abraham is like the new moon, bringing the first light of revelation, which finally shines forth in fullness with the arrival of David (Matt 1:2–6). From David’s reign, the kingdom declines until the moon disappears with the Babylonian Exile (Matt 1:6–11), and then is renewed and grows great again from the Exile to the full light of Messiah’s coming (Matt 1:12–17). (I first heard this interpretation in a seminar by Dr. Mark Kinzer.)

Messiah’s story, however, doesn’t end with his coming, but with his resurrection, the first installment of the great resurrection to come. Just as the moon rises again out of the darkness to renew the lunar cycle, so Messiah rises again from death to bring light to the world. The New Moon of the first month begins the two-week countdown to Passover, the festival of past redemption that anticipates the redemption to come, the resurrection at the end of the age, as we say, “Next year in Jerusalem!”   

Our haftarah imagines a future observance of Passover a the Lord instructs the prince: “On the fourteenth day of the first month you are to have the Pesach, a feast seven days long; matzah will be eaten” (Ezek 45:21). Hope, symbolized by the waxing moon, is so central to life with God that the prophet envisions the annual cycle of New Moon and Passover continuing on in the Age to Come.

In Messianic faith, resurrection hope is even more central. Rav Sha’ul reminds us of the Good News “which you received, and on which you have taken your stand . . . namely, the Messiah died for our sins, in accordance with the Scriptures; and he was buried; and he was raised on the third day, in accordance with the Scriptures” (1 Cor 15:1, 3–4).

Hope, renewal, resurrection are as inherent to the life of faith as the waxing moon is to the cycle of the year. Resurrection isn’t just a bullet-point in our belief list, but a hope on which we stand. Belief in the resurrection is essential not only because it gives individual consolation in the face of death, but because it suffuses the entire story of humankind and God with hope.

We see this hope resting upon Messiah Yeshua:

But now Messiah has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. . . . For as in Adam all die, so also in Messiah will all be made alive. (1 Cor. 15:20, 22)

So, let the New Moon remind us that in Messiah we always have hope.

• Amid the chaos and despair all around us, we build lives of meaning and purpose.
• Amid the onslaught of materialism and unbelief, we know the human story is headed for redemption.

We don’t have a guarantee that our lives are going to be more exciting, prosperous, trouble-free than the lives of others. We have something better: an undying hope that doesn’t depend on ourselves, but on the one who arose from the dead during Passover long ago.