Ode to Religious Fanatics

Haftarah for Pinchas, 1 Kings 18:46–19:21

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

At my current age my heart has already beat two billion times. For many of us, we find ourselves thinking about our weight, exercise, and not only what we eat, but also what’s eating us. This last point deals with our spiritual heart, which has also throbbed millions of times, with thoughts, affections, and choices. In our hearts we determine how we will speak, behave, and respond to circumstances. The question that begs to be answered, then, is will we trust Hashem and choose to be gracious, patient, and loving, or will we yield to pride, self-seeking, and bitterness? The Scriptures exhort us to rejoice in the Lord always; why then do we so often appear to hit the road of despair? At the center of this difficulty is our presumptuous nature.

As we go through life with the promises of God in our pocket, we presume how he should behave in every situation. In the midst of our expectations, we attempt to make the Holy One the captive of our desires and the guarantor of our efforts. Ya’akov the Elder of Jerusalem said that Elijah was a man like us (James 5:17), yet it is difficult to imagine Eliyahu HaNavi, the great prophet and powerfully anointed miracle worker, having a nature just like ours. Perhaps it is in his search, however, rather than his victories that we can see our destiny, and our hope through his despondency.

The Ballad of a Depressed Prophet

In the narrative of 1 Kings 17, the back story to the haftarah portion, Elijah is God’s man. He is imbued with power and informed by the spirit of the Living God. He calls down fire from heaven, and even soaks his own offering in water to mock the prophets of Baal. Then, when Elijah has totally humiliated the false prophets, he rallies the mob that had assembled to slaughter them in the brook Kidron. Sure, he is the worker of many miracles, but in some way he becomes a miracle junky, elevated only by the hype of the moment and his next fix of power.

This week’s haftarah portion begins with Elijah’s unexpected exile. I suppose that Elijah had expected the apostate Ahab and his foreign queen Jezebel to turn tail and run when they got the bad news concerning their prophets, but instead Jezebel undauntedly threatened Elijah’s life. It is Elijah who turns tail and runs a day’s journey from Beersheba into the wilderness. Here he entreats God to take his life. At the first sign of failure he runs and whines. The apparent message: God failed him; he was the faithful servant, God is the unappreciative master. Elijah is good as long as God brings the goodies. Elijah presents himself here as religious narcissist, with an over-inflated sense of entitlement. He deflects any and all responsibility. The narrative is actually infuriating, and I often think as I read this that if I were the Holy One I might have granted Elijah his wish; but this is never how Hashem works (just think of Jonah or Moses).

It can be said that Elijah’s life is a three-act play. In 1 Kings 17 he thinks he is somebody. In chapter 18 he realizes he is nobody. Then in chapter 19, Elijah finds out how much God can do with somebody who thinks he is nobody. Hashem sustains Elijah for forty days in the wilderness and then brings him to Mount Horeb, to the very place where, according to tradition, his glory passed before Moses. The haftarah records an odd exchange between Elijah and God. Twice God asks Elijah why he is there. The answer appears quite obvious, since Hashem’s angelic emissaries led him to that place. But Elijah responds by saying, “I have been exceedingly zealous for Hashem, God of Hosts, for the children of Israel have abandoned your covenant and razed your altars; they have killed your prophets with the sword, so that I alone remain” (1 Kings 19:10, 14). In this one statement Elijah deflects criticism from himself, indicts all of Israel, and accuses God of abandoning him. Elijah’s actions are strangely reminiscent of this admonition from German theologian and pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer:

God hates visionary dreaming; it makes the dreamer proud and pretentious. The man who fashions a visionary ideal of community demands that it be realized by God, by others, and by himself. He enters the Christian community with his demands, sets up his own law, and judges the brethren and God Himself accordingly. He stands adamant, a living reproach to all others in the circle of brethren. He acts as if he is the creator of the believing community, as if his dream binds men together. When things do not go his way, he calls the effort a failure. When his ideal picture is destroyed, he sees the community going to smash. So he becomes, first the accuser of his brethren, then an accuser of God, and finally the despairing accuser of himself. 

It is clear in Elijah’s tone that if God were to act appropriately, then Ahab and Jezebel would be instantly deposed, and the entire world would know it was due to Elijah’s supercharged ministry. But this is in fact not Hashem’s immediate plan. 

Hymn for the Real Deal

It is at this time that the God of Israel teaches his disgruntled employee the real meaning of power.

Hashem said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of Hashem, for the presence of Hashem is about to pass by.” Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before Hashem, but Hashem was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but Hashem was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but Hashem was not in the fire. And after the fire came a small still voice. (1 Kings 19:11–12)

The message is clear. The Lord can break mountains and shake the earth, but most often his true presence is discerned in small and gentle actions. Elijah responds to the small still voice and wraps his face in his cloak. It is rarely the brazen and the vociferous that exemplify God-like action but rather the quiet, the spiritual, the unassuming. In the words of Andrew Robert Fausset, “The Spirit of God is the voice to our soul. This is God’s immediate revelation to the heart. Miracles sound the great bell of nature to call attention; but the Spirit is God’s voice to the soul. Sternness hardens; love alone melts.” This does not mean that there are not times that call for bold and deliberate action, but most often true heroics are as quiet and unassuming as the small still voice that inspires them.

Elijah is then told three things that he will accomplish: anoint Hazael king of Aram, anoint Jehu king of Israel, and anoint Elisha a prophet in his own stead. Ironically, he does not actually accomplish any of the three tasks himself, except for the appointment of Elisha. It is rather through the ministry of Elisha that his legacy is effected and the other two tasks are completed. Elijah learns that the greatest work of God is not accomplished through a single vessel, but rather through the network of relationships that are inspired by the Spirit.

We often imagine true grit to be the fiery escapades of a self-reliant super hero. But nothing could be further from the truth. True zeal for God’s highest standards requires that we subordinate our own designs, timetables, and needs for the greater good of Hashem’s purposes. At times we seek deliverance, but instead God is offering peace. Other times we want excitement to arouse us from our empathy for the mundane, but instead we remain in the throes of the usual. How often do we ask for a word or a sign, but instead we are expected to learn the syntax of silence? At times we search for God’s intervention, but when we ask him to change our circumstances, he often desires us to change in the midst of them. When we respond to his gentle whisper, though, he can remove our despair, give us a new purpose and direction, and make us partakers of his greater plans.

Like Dew among the Nations

Haftarah for Parashat Balak, Micah 5:6–6:8

David Friedman, UMJC rabbi, Jerusalem

This section is our only haftarah portion from the book of Micah, a contemporary of the prophet Isaiah. It is joined to our parasha by mention of Balak, the wicked Moabite king:

O my people, remember what Balak king of Moab devised, and what Balaam the son of Beor answered him, and what happened from Shittim to Gilgal, that you may know the righteous acts of the Lord. (6:5 ESV)

This short haftarah portion contains sharp chastisement of the people for their lax devotion to the Torah and to God. The Land was full of occult practices, sorceries, idolatry, and cultic pillars with their poles for pagan worship. God was incensed at such behavior, as it constituted a sweeping violation of the covenant relationship between him and the people of Israel. Micah notes that God had a legal “indictment” (6:2) against his people.

What God wanted seemed simple enough. The conclusion of Micah is direct and to the point:

He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? (Micah 6:8 ESV)

Teshuvah, repentance, was needed on a national scale. In his conclusion, Micah does not differ from his contemporary, Isaiah, who also called the royalty, priests, and citizens of Judah to turn back to God and fulfill his Torah.

What interested me in particular as I read through the haftarah this week was its prediction of exile from the Land of Israel:

            The remnant of Jacob shall be in the midst of the many peoples,

            Like dew from the Lord, like droplets on grass. . . .

The remnant of Jacob shall be among the nations, in the midst of the many peoples,

            Like a lion among the beasts of the wild, like a fierce lion among

            Flocks of sheep, which tramples wherever it goes, and rends, with none to deliver.            

(Micah 5:6a, 7 JPS)

This section seems out of place in a portion where God is upbraiding the people and calling for a national repentance. Suddenly we are told that when Israel is at its worst, and receives exile from the Land due to our errant ways, God will still use our people in the Diaspora for his purposes.

Micah uses a word to describe how this “remnant of Jacob” is placed in foreign nations: b’kerev. It literally means “in close”, but carries the connotation of being right in the middle of the action, right in the midst of things, part and parcel of these nations. It is interesting that Danes and Bulgarians who helped save their entire Jewish populations during WWII often voiced the sentiment that “these people may be Jewish, but they are Danes, too,” or “they are Bulgarians, too.” It didn’t always go that way for us, but in those two nations, Micah’s words hit a note of reality.

When I think of Jewish history outside of the Land of Israel, I am hard pressed to think of our people being “like lions” overcoming our oppressors. Much more set in my mind are times like the Holocaust, the pogroms, the Crusades, and the Inquisitions, when we were running from our oppressors. To think of us being “like a lion . . . which tramples wherever it goes,” I have to go back to the ancient Persian Empire where Mordecai and Esther led a state-sanctioned, successful armed Jewish uprising against our people’s enemies to think of a time when our people seemed to fulfill what Micah stated.

Yet, I want to share a story I heard 30 years ago that helped me see the reality of what Micah states here. I spoke with an elderly Polish woman in Warsaw who fought with the Armie Krajowa (the Polish Home Army) against the Nazis during WWII. She served as a military nurse and she tried to sneak food and medical supplies into the Jewish ghetto as part of her mission. She told me that even though she knew that Israel was the home of all Jewish people, she loved the fact that there were so many Jewish people living in pre-war Warsaw. Nearly one third of the city was Jewish then, leading to its moniker, “The Polish Jerusalem.” Jerusalem Avenue still today is one of Warsaw’s main boulevards. “I feel like we’ve been robbed,” said a Polish graduate student to me once. “Where once there were so many Polish Jews, so much a part of this nation, now there’s just a huge hole,” he sadly told me.

My elderly Polish friend shared with me how the presence of many Jewish people changed Poland forever, giving it an exposure to, and appreciation of, so many things that otherwise would have been lost on it. She shared how the Jewish community’s keeping of Shabbat taught the Polish people about holiness and devotion. In fact, in modern Polish, the word for Saturday is “Sobota”. Guess where that word came from?

She talked about how the recitations of the Shema that were heard from the lips of Polish Jews so impressed Poles. They saw that no matter what the circumstances, Poland’s Jewish community was resolved to be faithful to their loving God. “When the Nazis shot Poles in the streets, they cursed at the shooters. When the Nazis shot your people in the streets, they had the words of the Shema on their lips,” she said to me.

Scholarship, music, the arts, education, the military, and medicine were all areas where Polish Jews contributed much to Polish history. And then she ended her talk with me by saying, in a most gracious way: “To you, it seems like a punishment that your people were here for so long, 1,000 years; but for us in Poland, your people were such a blessing to us, and gave us so much!”

As I read Micah’s words, that we would be as “dew from the Lord, like droplets on grass,” I thought of what this dear woman stated. In Israel, dew appears on our grass every morning during the summer season. Without it, our plants would surely die. Rainfall doesn’t start up again until October at the earliest, so dew is necessary to life in summer, and appears as a daily gift. This woman was telling me that the presence of Jewish people, as Micah foretold, was like “dew” to her Polish nation. Our presence gave life. Although Micah’s depiction of our people being lions did not happen there, the depiction of dew certainly did.

Even if our Diaspora presence has been unappreciated throughout history (and it's no exaggeration to say this), God still used our presence to shine his reality to the host nations: Jacob shall be among the nations, in the midst of the many peoples, like dew from the Lord (5:6a). Wherever Jacob’s descendants went, God went as well. Perhaps this is what Micah is telling us. This truth encompasses many nations throughout Diaspora history, in Europe, in Africa, in the Middle East, and in the Americas. Today, as a result of our Diaspora history, some 35 different languages are spoken in Israel today!

I can only wonder how many other people would say similar things to what my Polish friend said about the Diaspora Jewish presence in their lands. I was grateful to this dear woman for her encouraging words.

And I can now see that Micah was spot on: “The remnant of Jacob shall be among the nations, in the midst of the many peoples, like dew from the Lord.” Right in their midst, bringing the Presence of God. Was this the ideal? No, it was not. But again, God used what happened for the good of many peoples.

Jephthah, a Hero of Faith

Haftarah for Chukat, Judges 11:1–33

By Dr. Vered Hillel, Netanya, Israel

The haftarah for Chukat contains one of the most perplexing stories in the Bible, the tale of Jephthah, the judge who vowed to sacrifice the first thing that exited his house upon his safe return from war against the Ammonites.

The haftarah, however, actually stops in the middle of the story, informing us of Jephthah’s victory over the Ammonites, but making no mention of his return home or of the fulfillment of his vow (vv. 30–31). The first thing that comes out of his house upon his return is his daughter, his only child (vv. 34–35). This is most perplexing. Does Jephthah actually fulfill his vow by sacrificing his only daughter, or does she simply live her life as a virgin dedicated to God? To be sure the answer is complex, but no matter what we conclude about Jephthah’s fulfillment of his vow, he was a hero and man of faith. Samuel, in his farewell speech, includes Jephthah among the leaders who, like himself, acted as God’s agents to deliver Israel from her enemies (1 Sam 12:11), and Hebrews chapter 11 includes Jephthah among the heroes of faith alongside Gideon, Barak, and Samson, as well as David and Samuel (v. 32). 

Such a comparison of Jephthah with other heroes of faith is astonishing. 

Jephthah appears to be the antithesis of a leader. Not only is his vow questionable, but so is his early life. He is of dubious birth and lineage. His father was Gilead and his mother a prostitute without proper lineage (Judg 11:1). Although he is the eldest son, he was born to a mother other than the mother of his brothers, and therefore denied any inheritance. Consequently, he is ostracized by his family and community. He is an outcast living on the periphery of society, a powerful figure, a brigand, who gathers around him worthless and reckless men (compare Judges 9:4 to 11:3). Yet, he does not usurp power or threaten society. It is these qualities that draw the elders to him when the Ammonite becomes overwhelming. The historical setting of this controversy between the Israelite and non-Israelite populations of Gilead is summarized in Judges 10:6–18: Israel abandons Hashem, serves other gods, and is punished by oppression from the Philistines and Ammonites (10:6–9). Eventually Israel repents, removes the foreign gods, and serves Hashem (10:10–16). In the meantime, the Ammonites muster their troops for war.

The last verse of Judges 10 records a conversation between the troops and the officers in Gilead in which they ask one another, “Who is willing to begin the fight against the Ammonites? He will become the leader of all who live in Gilead.” Immediately after this statement, Jephthah is introduced into the story as a brave warrior. He arises out of nowhere as if in answer to their plea. As the narrative progresses Jephthah moves from an outcast to the accepted leader of the Gileadites. Later in Judges 12:7, we learn that he ruled Israel for six years.

Central to the narrative are the two negotiations between the elders of Gilead and Jephthah and between Jephthah and the Ammonite leaders. Through these negotiations we learn that the battle is not just between the Israelites and Ammonites, but between their God/gods. In his negotiations with the Ammonites, Jephthah recites Israelite history, repeatedly crediting Hashem with the victory over the Amorites and with driving them out from before Israel. It is important to note that a portion of the land that the Ammonites claim to be theirs had actually been lost many years earlier to the Moabites, who in turn lost it to the Amorites, who in turn were conquered by the Israelites (Josh 13:25, Num 21:26–31). Thus Israel had not conquered the land in Gilead from either Ammon or Moab, but from the Amorites.

Building on this fact, Jephthah tells the Ammonites that they can have all the land that Chemosh their god gives them, but the Israelites will take the land that Hashem, their God, gives them. Jephthah’s statement is dripping with irony. Chemosh was the god of the Moabites, not the Ammonites (Num 21:29). If the Ammonites are claiming Moabite land, then they must also worship the Moabite god. Chemosh, however, had not been able to save the Moabites from the Amorite conquest, so how can Chemosh save the Ammonites? He can’t. The God of Israel has proven himself to be the most powerful through the conquests he has given to Israel. Jephthah further stresses his point by asking why the Ammonites have not made a claim on the conquered lands for the last 300 years.

When the negotiations fail, Jephthah makes his foxhole vow to sacrifice “whatever comes out of the door of my house to meet me” (Judg 11:31 JPS), and then attacks the Ammonites. Empowered by Hashem, Jephthah defeats the Ammonites, becomes leader of the Gileadites and goes on to lead them for six years (Judg 12:7).

Jephthah is a hero, but Hashem is actually the true hero of the narrative.

Hashem is the one orchestrating all the circumstances that lead to the victory. Hashem prepared Jephthah for his role through the circumstances of his dubious birth and through his life as an outcast and brigand. Hashem also created the answer before the crisis ever began and before the elders of Gilead sought his help. Hashem is not a respecter of persons: he orchestrates and controls all the events of history, including those that shape our destiny. We may not know what events have already occurred in our lives that will influence our future, or what that future will hold. However, we can rest assured that Hashem is sovereign and that he is in control: “The Lord has established his throne in the heavens, and his sovereignty rules over all” (Ps 103:19).

Our beginnings and the circumstances of our lives may be ignominious, as were Jephthah’s, but we should be encouraged by Jephthah’s life, and by Paul’s words in Romans 8:28 “We know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to his purpose.”

Samuel’s Farewell Address

Haftarah for Korach, 1 Samuel 11:14–12:22

Dr. Patrice Fischer, Ohr Chadash, Clearwater, FL

This week’s haftarah passage is very dramatic: A leader challenges the people of Israel, explains why their choice of leaders in the future will be wrong and will change everything, and finally says farewell to national political office. It could be Moses; it could be Joshua; it could be Ezra; it could even be Gideon; but it is actually Samuel.

Samuel is a pivotal person in biblical history, but he is often overlooked after his remarkable childhood in Eli’s tabernacle (1 Sam 1–3).  An inspiring and reliable leader wedged between the time of the rule of the judges and the era of the kings of Israel, Samuel forms a junction between several great areas of leadership in Israel. He serves, simultaneously, as a priest, a prophet, a judge, and a kingmaker.

Many commentators portray Samuel as a divided person, at war within himself about his own people wanting to be ruled by a king. He knows that this national desire is not what God wants for them, and yet he goes out and finds a king for them. He lays out clearly for the people the ramifications for Israel in the future (none of them good), and yet honors their choice. These two sides of Samuel’s life are so distinct that many modern analysts are sure that his story incorporates the writings of two different authors.

In fact, Samuel seems divided because he is emotionally divided—a not-uncommon occurrence within a single person. As two heroes in a movie recently said as they ran past each other during a chase scene:

“Did you win or did you lose?”

            “Ummm, I won, but then I lost.”

“Then I’m happy and sad for you” [with a puzzled look] . . .

Samuel is satisfied and dissatisfied with Israel at this time. The people of Israel seem to have forgotten their endless roller-coaster ride under the leadership of the judges and now demand a king to be in charge of the warfare on their behalf. Samuel is discouraged by their lack of faith in their God, but he also knows that God is powerful and faithful to them. 

Samuel feels conflicted because he thinks having a king is, at its heart, unnecessary for Israel. They are failing in their prime objective—to conquer their tribal allotments and remove the Canaanites from their midst—because of a lack of trust in God. If they will only allow him, God can be the only king they need. Their nation can be a true theocracy. Instead, the people want a king because they think that by having a king fight their battles they are guaranteed to win. They have not figured out that God’s leadership enables them to win the battles, not the human leaders.

So Samuel, guided by God, acquiesces to their demand (chapters 8–10). He will give over the day-to-day maintenance of the nation to Saul and his advisors. Before he leaves the scene, Samuel asks the people a series of questions concerning how he has behaved among them—blamelessly, without taking advantage of them, or becoming rich off them (1 Sam 12:3–5).  These questions seem to be the haftarah’s link to Moses in our parasha, Numbers 16:1–18:32, where the very angry Moses says to God, “I did not take a single donkey (LXX: desirable thing) from them! I did not do any of them any harm” (Num 16:15).

The people have trouble defeating the enemies within their land because they don’t trust the One with the power to accomplish it. The core reason for the people’s problems is the same as it was during the leadership of the judges: they continue to worship the Canaanite idols Baal and Astarte instead of removing them from their midst. Instead they trust the Canaanite god of war. The people still do not trust their God to bring them rain, but instead turn to the Canaanite god of lightning, thunder, and rain.

Remembering that Baal and his pantheon are specifically tasked with providing rain at the correct times is at the heart of Samuel’s proof that he is a true man of God: Although it is already the dry season in Israel, when Samuel prays, thunder and rain result (it is almost a physical impossibility for it to rain in Israel during the summer wheat harvest). This is a very powerful miracle, although it may not feel like it to us. Samuel’s God is capable of providing rain at any time. Baal’s help is not necessary. The people finally realize that Samuel has been right all along, and that they were wicked to ask for a king (12:19).

One notable sidelight of this miracle is that rain occurring when wheat is ripe can very easily ruin the whole harvest. If it is a powerful rain, it knocks the delicate heads off the plant shafts, where they fall to the ground and in a very short period of time, start to sprout. The grain is unusable and grows mold easily. The stalks, which are used to help feed their cattle and sheep as straw, cannot be stored if wet. If straw is not completely dry, strong sunlight can create steam in the middle of piles of straw, igniting the whole pile (and in more modern times, set the whole barn on fire).

At its heart, Israel’s problem is one of substitution: They want to have a human king to substitute for their heavenly king in their battles. They want another group of gods who specialize in fighting battles and bringing rain to substitute for their God. But the God of Abraham wants them to trust him and him alone.

This is still important for us today. We must exhibit trust in God even when it seems to us like he is not powerful enough to overcome our problems. This trust is not just a matter of wishful thinking, but needs to be based in action. These actions begin by following the one true God, worshiping him alone, and gratefully accomplishing his decrees.

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.