What Difference Does God Make?

Haftarat B’reisheet, Isaiah 42:5 – 43:10

Rabbi Russ Resnik 

When I first became a follower of Jesus I wanted to share the story of my amazing transformation with everyone. But, of course, Jesus was a big barrier for most people, especially Jewish people—even after we started saying Yeshua instead of Jesus. In recent years, though, it seems like the barrier has shifted, and now it’s God himself. For lots of people, before they can even consider Yeshua, they have to accept the idea that there might actually be a God who makes a difference.

Some of these folks are doctrinaire atheists, convinced that God does not exist at all, but even more are practical atheists. They’re not dogmatic about the non-existence of God and may well be open to the idea that there’s something, or even someone, out there beyond our limited materialistic horizons. But it’s a God-concept so vague as to be mostly irrelevant to real life. Others are more positive about God, but define him after their own understanding, which usually means a God who doesn’t demand a lot.

A few years back, Sociologists Christian Smith and Melinda Lundquist Denton coined the term Moralistic Therapeutic Deism in their book Soul Searching: The Religious and Spiritual Lives of American Teenagers. After interviewing approximately 3000 teenagers they found broad consensus on five core beliefs:

1. A god exists who created and ordered the world and watches over human life on earth.

2. God wants people to be good, nice, and fair to each other, as taught in the Bible and by most world religions.

3. The central goal of life is to be happy and to feel good about oneself.

4. God does not need to be particularly involved in one’s life except when God is needed to resolve a problem.

5. Good people go to heaven when they die.

It’s a kind of generic religion that might draw on Scripture but can hardly be said to align with it. And discussions about God and “spirituality” that we encounter online or in live conversation suggest that this sort of list remains an accurate description of religion today, and not just among teenagers.

So, before we can talk about Yeshua, we often have to talk about God vs. no-God or about a personal, purposeful God vs. a vaguely imagined Higher Power.  

To put this in other terms, before we can talk about Redemption, we need to talk about Creation. Sometimes we strike out in trying to tell people about Redemption because they’re not convinced about Creation. If there’s no overriding and compelling meaning to human existence, what do we need to be redeemed from, or for?

Centuries ago Rabbi Isaac commented on the opening verse of Genesis, which we read this week: “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth” (Gen 1:1). He said that it would have made more sense to begin the Torah with Exodus 12:2, “You are to begin your calendar with this month; it will be the first month of the year for you.” This is the first commandment to the Israelites, and the main purpose of the Torah is its commandments, according to Rabbi Isaac. So, why does the Torah start with the account of Creation? Because “if the nations of the world should say to Israel, ‘You are robbers, for you conquered by force the lands of the seven nations [of Canaan],’ Israel can reply, ‘The whole earth belongs to the Holy One, Blessed is He. He created it and He gave it to the one found proper in His eyes. By His wish He gave it to them, and by His wish He took it from them’” (cited by Rashi on Genesis 1:1).

Now Rabbi Isaac’s comment could stir up a lively discussion on current events, which I’ll happily avoid, because I’m interested in a different point right now:

God-as-Creator is a God who makes a difference in everything. 

The one who creates something has rights and privileges regarding that thing. God the Creator isn’t just a vague, impersonal energy or force, but the One who has oversees it all according to his own council . . . which brings us to our haftarah for the week:  

Thus says God, Adonai,
who created the heavens and spread them out,
who stretched out the earth and all that grows from it,
who gives breath to the people on it
and spirit to those who walk on it:
“I, Adonai, called you righteously . . .” Isaiah 42:5–6a 

God is making it clear just who is speaking to us. His creative sweep encompasses everything and everyone. He is the source of the very breath that we breathe, of the very spirit that animates us and gives us life. Therefore he has the right to call whoever he wants to whatever assignment he has in mind. I ended the quotation above in mid-sentence, because it would require an additional drash to discuss who the “you” of the final line is, and what exactly he’s called to. But the point remains: God can call people according to his plans and purposes because he created us all.  

That’s a pretty simple statement, but it’s controversial today, when so many live, or want to live, as if there is no Creator. In contrast, Isaiah presents a bracing picture of God. Yes, he “created and ordered the world and watches over human life on earth,” as Moralistic Therapeutic Deism has it, but he’s got a more exciting purpose for us than being good, nice, fair to each other, and feeling good about ourselves.

The One who created everything has a plan to bring everything to completion, and that plan includes us.

But now this is what Adonai says,
he who created you, Ya‘akov,
he who formed you, Isra’el:
“Don’t be afraid, for I have redeemed you;
I am calling you by your name; you are mine.” Isaiah 43:1

The God who created the universe created you and me—and he calls us by name. The purposeful God of Creation has a purpose for us, for “everyone who bears my name, / whom I created for my glory” (Isaiah 43:7). Somehow we contribute to his glory.

When we connect with the God who makes a difference, we start to make a difference too.

As we begin a new year and a new cycle of reading through the Torah together, let’s renew our walk with God the Creator and Redeemer, alert to how we can make a difference in the world he created.

All Scripture references are from Complete Jewish Bible.

Rejoice in the Promise!

Simchat Torah, Joshua 1:1–18

Barri Cae Seif, Sar Shalom, Arlington, TX

I love this time of year! We see the changing of the seasons from summer to fall, as though there has been a cool breeze coming through, in our attitudes and overall well-being. Sukkot ushers in a wonderful feeling of joy and thanksgiving. Those of us who live in America might look at Sukkot as a precursor to the Thanksgiving holiday.

Growing up, I experienced Sukkot as a wonderful celebration in both the Reform temple and in the Orthodox shul. When I was a young girl, I remember going into a sukkah with all of the hanging fruit. I thought that it was just such a special holiday, and almost anytime I see a cornucopia, I think of Sukkot.  

Right before my early teens, my parents left the Reform temple and joined an Orthodox synagogue. Although I do not remember seeing any sukkah, I do remember receiving a miniature Torah, given to us children on Simchat Torah—the holiday that concludes the Sukkot season (October 1-2 this year). In my possession is my father's little miniature Torah that he also received on Simchat Torah. 

When I was growing up, I had little knowledge of Hebrew and did not realize that Simchat Torah meant “rejoicing of the law.” Yet I saw the demonstration of this rejoicing in both the synagogue and in the Temple sanctuary. Dancing and rejoicing with abandon were the norm for this holiday celebration. One of the highest honors on Simchat Torah is to be given the final Aliyah, the final Torah reading. The Chatan Torah (Groom of the Torah) gets to read the final passage from Deuteronomy.  

One action on this day specially intrigues me. When is the Torah rolled back to the beginning of Bereisheet, Genesis? Now that would be fun to do! At the end of the secular new year, on New Year's Eve, I think back to the year that God has given. With a little bit of anticipation and concern, I wonder what life events will come forth. If I ever had a chance to witness the unrolling of the Torah scroll, would those same thoughts cross my mind?  

Parallel to the Torah reading is the Haftarah selection, Joshua 1:1–18. Rabbi Hertz in his Pentateuch commentary (Soncino, 1960) notes, “In the matter of study, it is the Jewish custom to make a fresh beginning immediately after a conclusion has been reached.” We mark the conclusion of the Five books of Moses, and yet a beginning with Genesis 1; we also note the beginning of Joshua. He faces a new horizon with entry into the Promised Land.  

As a new believer in Yeshua, learning to daily trust God’s promises was my school of faith. Years ago, I attended a Sunday school class led by the author Zig Ziglar. He always focused on good news, whether it was the Gospel of Yeshua, or improving economic news. One thing he emphasized was to always realize that you are making a promise every time you sign your name. That simple concept has directed my steps throughout my life.  

Every place God has signed his name, that is our assurance, our promise that he will be with us. What must Joshua have thought when God said to him, “Every place that the sole of your foot shall tread upon, to you I have given it, as I spoke to Moses” (Josh 1:3). God assures Joshua as God assured Moses in Deuteronomy 11:24. Natan is the Hebrew word for “give” and not only does it mean give, but it also means appoint, ascribe, assign, avenge, lay charge to, occupy, ordain, and restore. When God makes a promise, he keeps it.  

Joshua 1:8 will always be one of my favorite Bible verses. It truly is the key to success. 

Yes, keep this book of the Torah on your lips, and meditate on it day and night, so that you will take care to act according to everything written in it. Then your undertakings will prosper, and you will succeed. (Complete Jewish Bible)

Who better to give us this advice than Joshua? God gives the Promised Land to Joshua and yet God provides directives that Joshua still must follow. Promises are given and yet we still need to lay hold of the promises—by faith. God’s instructions to Joshua meant that the Torah should be in his mouth and in his heart continually.

Meditate on the word of the Lord. Ponder God’s word. Not only are we to think about God’s word; we are to talk about God’s word, study it, and speak it. Faith comes by hearing and hearing comes by the word of God (Heb 10:17). As we speak the word of God, we hear it; our faith is stirred up and becomes electric, alive, and active. Then our undertakings will prosper and we will succeed!

Adonai is My Rock

Haftarat Ha’azinu, 2 Samuel 22:1–51

Dr. Vered Hillel, Netanya, Israel

The haftarah for Parashat Ha’azinu is David’s great hymn of thanksgiving, praising Hashem for providing protection and deliverance from all the dangers of his life and all the conflicts with his enemies. This lengthy song opens and closes with praise and thanksgiving. Sandwiched in between are vibrant expressions of both the circumstances of his low moments and of his triumph over the enemies. This hymn has various parallels in the Tanakh and plays an important role in Jewish worship. First, David’s song shares many things in common with the song of Moses in Deuteronomy 32, Parashat Ha’azinu. It also appears almost word-for-word in Psalm 18. Furthermore, the hymn parallels both the Song of the Sea in Exodus 15, which is read on the seventh day of Pesach, and Hannah’s prayer in 1 Samuel 1:1–2:10, which is read on the first day of Rosh Hashanah.

What is so amazing about David’s song that it would be made into a psalm and added to the psalter, or included three times in the liturgical calendar? To answer this question, let’s look at two terms used by David in the hymn—tzur (rock) and tamim (blameless, innocent, perfect).

David opens the hymn with the proclamation “Adonai is my rock (sela), my fortress and my deliverer.” The two epithets, rock and fortress, are drawn from the natural character of the landscape in Israel where steep and almost inaccessible rocks provided protection to David as a fugitive. Although David took refuge in physical rocks, he did not place his hope for safety in the rocky formations in Israel. He placed his hope in Adonai himself, who was David’s rock (tzur). Tzur is a rock that represents God’s immoveable firmness and his invincible protection. David calls God, “my Rock” (tzuri) in 2 Samuel 22:3 and 47a, depicting God as a sheltering rock (v. 3) and a source of personal safety (v. 47a). David also uses the term as an epithet equated with God himself. In 22:32 David asks, “Who is a rock besides our God…?” and later in v. 47b he praises Adonai saying, “Exalted be God, the Rock of my salvation!”

David uses the second term, tamim, to present the theology of reward and punishment, applied both personally and generally. David says of himself, “I also was blameless (tamim) before him and kept myself from iniquity” (22:24). David is not stating that he is perfectly righteous or holy before Adonai, because he wasn’t. He is making a comparison between the righteousness of his own deeds and endeavors and the unrighteousness and wickedness of his adversaries. David says he is blameless because he strove earnestly and sincerely to walk in the way of Hashem and to keep the commandments (22:21–25). The general theology of reward and punishment is expressed in the impersonal remarks, “with the loyal you show yourself loyal; with the blameless (tamim) hero, you show yourself blameless; with the pure you show yourself pure, but with the crooked you show yourself shrewd. You deliver a humble people, but your eyes are upon the haughty to bring them down (22:26–28). David was blameless/innocent because Adonai, who is perfect (tamim) in his way, is David’s strong fortress, which keeps David’s way perfect (tamim; 22:33).

A comparison with the song of Moses in this week’s parashah also establishes this theological point. Both the song of Moses in Deuteronomy 32 and the song of David in 2 Samuel 22 use the terms tamim to emphasize integrity, blamelessness and perfection and tzur to emphasize stability, power and protection. After stating that he will proclaim the name of Adonai, Moshe declares, “The Rock, his work in perfect (tamim), and all his ways are just,” while Israel is “a perverse and crooked generation” (Deut 32:4-5) that “scoffed at the Rock of [their] salvation” (32:15) and had “forgotten the Rock that fathered [them]” (32:18). As a result, Adonai, their Rock, gave them over to their enemies, “because their rock is not like our Rock” (32:30–31).

In our haftarah, David also glorifies Adonai as a rock whose way is blameless or perfect (tamim; 2 Sam 22:31) and juxtaposes this “Rock” with all other gods (22:32). However, David, unlike Israel, remains steadfast and blameless. Instead of scoffing or forgetting the Rock, David takes shelter in the Rock (22:3). David also proclaims Adonai as acting blameless with the blameless hero but acting shrewd with the crooked (22:26–27). David is rewarded by Adonai, who kept David’s way perfect or secure (tamim; 22:33).

The similarities between the two songs are remarkable. However, the contrast between the reactions to the Rock of David and Israel is also remarkable. Both songs portray Adonai as a mighty and sustaining Rock, whose way is tamim. However, David remains faithful and does not forget the Rock of his strength. He does not rebel against him even through his trials and adversities, or through his success. By contrast, the people of Israel are a rebellious generation that has forgotten Adonai, the faithful and immovable Rock whose work is perfect. The song of Moses and the song of David show us two different paths, as one commentator puts it: “a God-centered way of remembrance and humility, and a self-centered way of forgetfulness and pride.” Each of us has a choice as to how we respond to the Rock in various situations in our lives. We can be like David and choose to remember that Adonai, whose way is perfect, is our Rock and strong fortress, or we can be like Israel in the wilderness and forget the Rock the fathered us. Each day we must decide which path we will walk.

My prayer is that we will all be like David and seek to walk in the way of Hashem and to keep his commandments. Then we will remember that Hashem is our Rock and strong fortress and will keep our way blameless.

There is a Way Back

Haftarah Shabbat Shuvah, Hosea 14:2–10

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

The Bible is the best-selling book of all time. It is also one of the least read! Even those who claim love and fidelity for the Bible, who often quote chapter and verse, rarely have read the Scriptures in entirety!

It is so common for biblical adherents to skip over the most difficult passages to interpret and the ones that are frankly just difficult to hear. Psalm 137, for example, is often quoted and sung in various Christian and Jewish liturgies as well as popular song (for example, Joan Baez, “By the Rivers of Babylon”) yet its impassioned plea to dash our enemies’ babies against rocks (v. 9) is usually expurgated! The fact is that the Bible is hardly a children’s book. It deals with human frailty and the hard and often harsh reality of human interaction. Perhaps, though, given the most popular viewing and reading choices in popular culture, it would be a better PR strategy to advertise the more scandalous narratives in Scripture!

The haftarah for this week has one of the steamiest back-stories in the entire biblical canon. It can be found in the book of Hosea, which has its own set of PR problems. First and foremost, it is one of the so-called minor prophets, a very unfortunate moniker! Nothing says “pay no attention” like calling something minor. This nomenclature is not a commentary on the importance of these prophets; rather it is a misunderstood description of their shorter length. I think if we called these the “very short but really important prophets” it would boost their ratings exponentially! But so would this story. It is what my mother, of blessed memory, would refer to as a “tear jerker”—a sad story of adultery, abandonment, neglect, and betrayal. It is also, though, a story of faithfulness, patience, love, and relational restoration.

The haftarah begins, “Shuvah Yisrael ad Adonai Elohekha, Return Israel to the Lord your God” (Hosea 14:2). This is more than a casual appeal; rather it is an intense and imperative plea for Israel to come home, leave its diverse lovers, live faithfully with Hashem, and avoid the self-inflicted wounds they have been enduring since national inception. It is a desperate cry that concludes the story of Hosea, who is asked to embrace and empathize with God’s cuckoldry. 

Hosea probably began his prophetic ministry during the reign of Jeroboam II, toward the end of Israel’s prosperity. Though we have very little precise biographical info on Hosea, his life is laid bare before us as a living allegory. He is asked to marry Gomer, a woman of questionable reputation and morals, and raise three children that may or may not be his own. In fact, he names them Yizre’el (God sows), Lo-Ruchamah (unpitied), and Lo-Ammi (not my people) (Hosea 1:2–8). As distasteful as the latter two names are, the first, Yizre’el, would have been a salt-in-the-wound name. Though it was originally the bread basket of the Northern Kingdom of Israel, Yizre’el had become place of death and destruction during the reign of Ahab and Jezebel and the entire Jehu dynasty. The association of this place with a child would be much like naming the child Dachau or Treblinka today!

Hosea loves Gomer despite her adultery and abandonment of him and the children. She loves the pleasantries of life and runs to her lovers who lavish gifts upon her. This, of course, parallels the story of Israel who collectively pursues the gods and values of her neighbors, remaining unaware that it is actually Hashem that provides the prosperity she enjoys (2:10–11). No doubt the scandal has made Hosea the subject of ridicule by his neighbors who have become bored with this love-struck prophet who cannot keep his own house in order.

The story of Hosea and Gomer becomes inextricably bound up with the story of God and Israel. Eventually Gomer finds her bottom, and her adultery/prostitution finds its obvious destiny in a society that simultaneously promotes and condemns promiscuity. She is stripped naked and put up for sale to the highest bidder. But Hosea’s love for Gomer is unrelenting. He purchases her for fifteen pieces of silver and eight bushels of barley and restores her to his home. For a time, they will not have marital relations as they work out their issues. In the same way Hashem declares that he will never forsake Israel, and she will forever be his wife. But there is going to be a long time of galut, an adequate separation so she can learn covenant faithfulness. The time will come when she will call him Ish rather than Ba’al. Though both can understood as husband, one denotes her man, a loving partner, while the latter expresses his mastery and lordship over her (3:2–5). In this narrative we can see the continuum between yirat Hashem (the fear of the Lord) and ahavat Hashem (the love of the Lord).

Just as Gomer’s infidelity mirrors Israel’s indiscretion, so does each of ours, with the attitudes, temperament, and actions of an unfaithful people. How often do we run after the lavish trappings that we somehow imagine will make us happy, forgetting that Hashem provides every good and pleasant gift? Do we chase after the gods of wealth, stature, and momentary celebrity, forgetting that true security comes from the One who will never forget or forsake us? Are ego and hubris our lovers, and have social media, political affiliation, and financial enterprise become our forbidden rendezvous? Have we forgotten who it is that redeemed us for a price far greater than silver?

Much like Israel, we individually cannot be separated from the love of God. But we can continue to live in personal galut, a separation from the intimacy that the Holy One desires to have with every one of us. As we continue our introspection throughout these Yamim Noraim (Days of Awe), we must not ask, “What can I get away with?” but, rather “How long do I wish to stay away?” Our first love is calling us. This is the time for reconciliation. The Holy One is crying Shuvah! Return! How long will we wait?

The Future is Looking Good

Seventh Haftarah of Consolation, Isaiah 61:1–63:9

Rabbi David Friedman, Jerusalem

Our haftarah brings out a true confession in me. Living here in Israel, my heart is sometimes made heavy by the attitudes and spiritual life that are displayed here. Sometimes it is hard for me to see beyond the strife, beyond society’s ills, and beyond the emptiness that is evident in so many people’s lives. And so I wonder what will become of my people, who yearn to be like the Western world: liberal, economically well-to-do, sophisticated, self-confident, internationally suave, mixed in among the nations, and popular.

It’s not that we are bad in character . . . no, not at all; but we are often so lost, so far removed from the reason Almighty God called us out among the nations, so far distanced from the covenants of blessings and promises that he gave to our forefathers. When I see this played out in my locale, it is a distressing situation.

Various things touch off such a situation for me. This week, a very sweet religious man told me about his living situation: he is the sole person who prays from a particular siddur (prayer book) in his town. The religious leader of the town warned others not to ever pray with him because the town’s residents should pray from a different siddur, not the one used by this man. Due to his affiliation within Judaism, this person was ostracized from his neighbors by a gentleman’s agreement. Brothers mistreating each other. Such pettiness. Such bullying. Such division within our people, who need to be unified. I think at times like these that we are really missing the boat.

Our haftarah has comforted me and reminded me of some incredible things. Isaiah 61:9 encourages us to know that a day is coming, an era will break upon human history, during which . . . “their (Jewish) descendants shall be known among the nations, and their offspring among the peoples; all who see them shall recognize that they are seed that the Lord blessed”(Chabad translation, with one change).

Isaiah’s reaction to the coming of this time period is a joyful one:

I will rejoice with the Lord; my soul shall exult with my God, for He has attired me with garments of salvation, with a robe of righteousness He has enwrapped me; like a bridegroom, who, priest-like, dons garments of glory, and like a bride, who adorns herself with her jewelry.” (Isa 61:10, Chabad)

Our haftarah goes on to describe what this era will be like for the people of Israel:

And nations shall see your righteousness, and all kings your glory, and you shall be called a new name, which the mouth of the Lord shall pronounce. And you shall be a crown of glory in the hand of the Lord and a kingly diadem in the hand of your God. (Isa 62:2–3, Chabad)

Isaiah describes what Israel will be like in that coming time period:

No longer shall "forsaken" be said of you, and "desolate" shall no longer be said of your land, for you shall be called "My desire is in her," and your land, "inhabited," for the Lord desires you, and your land shall be inhabited. (Isa 62:4, Chabad)

Putting these verses together forms a picture for us of what is going to happen to the people of Israel. And it is a wondrous, restorative, powerful set of events that will cause these realities to take place. Such events will cause the desires of the present generation in our Land to be totally redefined. Our people, in our nation, will live for the purposes that God himself has given to us. And his reaction to Israel during this time period? Isaiah wonderfully sums it up: “Your God will rejoice over you” (62:5b, my translation). He will be so happy when Israel is living the way he intends for us to live.

The word for “righteous” back in verse 2 is tsedek; this word is connected to the instructions given by God on Mt. Sinai. In other words, we will be a people who are faithful to the covenant and instructions given to us on Mt. Sinai.

Israel will also be a crown of glory in God’s possession. This matches the picture that Moses taught us when he described Israel as an am segulah, that is, “a people who are a royal treasury.” And the treasures belong to God (Exod 19:5–6). Additionally, our haftarah teaches that God will desire to be with us: “the Lord desires you” (62:4).

Isaiah 61:10 shows that our nation will function in our priestly calling and will additionally be a “bride” to the Holy One. Our condition will be seen and recognized by all nations (61:9), which again is a fulfillment of our national calling (see Deut 4:5–10).

Isaiah adds: “And they shall call them the holy people, those redeemed by the Lord, and you shall be called, ‘sought, a city not forsaken’” (62:12, Chabad). Our people will be known as a holy people. In Hebrew, “holy” is defined as “separated for the purposes of God.” Then our people will be living according to the calling given to us, as in Exodus 19:5–6, to be a separated people for the purposes of God.

When I consider what I see with my eyes today, I understand something very clearly—an absolutely miraculous transformation has to spread across Israel in order for Isaiah’s words to be fulfilled. And it will! Zechariah 13 denotes an internal cleansing, a spiritual purging, and a national renewal of Israel’s calling. This could be the doorway to our haftarah’s picture, leading up to what Isaiah describes above, in chapters 61 and 62.

Of course, the centerpiece for the attainment of this reality is our holy Messiah Yeshua, who is also described in our haftarah:

The spirit of the Lord God was upon me, since the Lord anointed me to bring tidings to the humble, He sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to declare freedom for the captives—and for the prisoners, to free them from captivity. (Isa 61:1, Chabad)

According to our Jewish calendar, our haftarah today is considered the last of the seven Haftarot of Consolation. Accordingly, we have been reading out of Isaiah each week, focusing on messages of hope, comfort, and having the favor of God. In my mind, today’s haftarah offers such consolation. I am much encouraged as I consider Isaiah’s message apropos to the times that we live in.

Rosh Hashana begins in a few days. It is a time of re-evaluating our lives, and of new beginnings. It is encouraging at this time in the calendar to read of our nation’s new beginning to take place in the future, when we begin to live according to our true identity! Our haftarah teaches us that we are God’s bride, God’s desired people, holy and righteous people, priests to the world, and a people who make God happy. That is one wonderful identity!

Shana tovah!

Your Light Has Come

Sixth Haftarah of Consolation, Isaiah 60:1–22

Rabbi Aaron Allsbrook, Ohev Yisrael, Springfield, VA

We live in a time of darkness. We live in a time when people do as they please, when they search for answers in every place imaginable—that is, every place besides God’s throne—when they are governed by the dictates of their hearts, when they have no idea where they are going (as in John 8:35). This is a time when people call evil good and good evil, light darkness and darkness light, bitter sweet and sweet bitter (Isa 5:20). And the good news is, it’s only going to get darker.

According to Moses, when Israel becomes disobedient she will be like a blind person groping in darkness, which is really being doubly blind (Deut 28:29). Sin leads to darkness. John teaches us that sin is lawlessness, that is, a belief that there is no universal law or that there is, but who cares, I’m gonna do what I want (1 John 3:4). As we approach the end of this age and the heralding of the millennial kingdom with the return of Yeshua, “the earth will be covered in darkness and the people in deep darkness”—doubly dark (Isa 60:2).

There’s another side to this story, though: “Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you!” (Isa 60:1). Isaiah then proceeds to elaborate exactly how the nations of the world will respond to Israel as she enters into the fulfillment of the promise God made to Abraham for her to dwell securely and eternally in the Land. Much of this echoes Moses’ description of just how blessed Israel will be if she is obedient to the Torah (Deut 26:16–19, 28:1–14). Just as disobedience leads to darkness, obedience leads to light.

Even from the beginning of the story of man, disobedience seems inevitable. The day Moses returned with the Ten Commandments Israel was already disobeying them, and in a bad way. The Tanakh concludes with Israel in exile due to her idolatry and assimilating into the neighboring pagan culture and idol worship. Disobedience seems to be par for the course.

God is pretty good, however, with solutions. His solution is a change of heart, not his heart, but ours. His solution is his Spirit within us. It is his Spirit that guides us into obedience, as it is written, “I will put my Ruach within you. Then I will cause you to walk in my laws, so you will keep my rulings and do them” (Ezek 36:27). This Spirit makes us become the children of God, children who act like their Father (Rom 8:14). In the end we will be glorified because he will be glorified.

Our obedience is based on his grace and the empowerment of his Spirit. In the end, God will receive all the glory and honor. While Israel will be exalted as head above the nations and will be blessed by all the peoples of the earth, it will be so because the glory of God will arise upon Israel (Isa 60:2). We will finally be the people God has always intended for us to be, because we will be walking in his Spirit, completely in harmony with the will of God (see Rom 8:27).

Nations will bless Israel because the fullness of God will be in us. Even our walls will be salvation and our gates praise (Isa 60:18). Moses foresaw this as the ultimate demarcation of Israel amongst the nations (Ex 33:14–23). Moses got a fleeting glimpse of this glory, yet, Isaiah saw a permanence, and it is this permanence that will exalt Israel and draw all nations to her for the glory of God!

When we walk by God’s Spirit, when we lift up the Name of Yeshua, when we worship God with all our hearts and beings, we will get a taste of what this permanent glory will be. The more we behold him, the more we become like him. Even as the darkness grows darker, the light of Yeshua is greater than the darkness (John 1:5); darkness is even as light to him (Ps 139:12). We need not fear the darkness because we have a promise of his light and glory. We have a secure future that is lit eternally. We have a Spirit that guides us to such an inheritance. We need to arise and shine because Yeshua will return and eradicate all darkness!

This is hope and this is what people need to hear. He will take men and women out of darkness. The darkness may continue to spread, but the light of Yeshua will simultaneously grow brighter. What a hope!

How Can the Barren One Sing?

Fifth Haftarah of Consolation, Isaiah 54:1–10

Rabbi Russ Resnik

We’re in the midst of the weekly passages from Isaiah known as the Haftarot of Comfort or Consolation, and this week’s installment opens with a paradox:

 “Sing, O barren one, who did not bear;
    break forth into singing and cry aloud,
    you who have not been in labor!
For the children of the desolate one will be more
    than the children of her who is married,” says the Lord.

How can a barren woman come to rejoice? How can a desolate one have abundant children? It’s a paradox, but we’ve already seen how it works in the story of Sarah, the barren wife who finally bears a son to Abraham in her old age. It’s the iconic story of the God we serve, whose very nature is to give life when there is no life and to even raise the dead.

But Isaiah’s words have special meaning during the days in which we read them—the time of preparation for the approaching High Holy Day season. One custom during this season is to take time each day to consider our attitudes and behaviors and make amends as needed. As we do, we often discover that we’re the desolate one, barren of what we need to be pleasing to God or fruitful in his sight. We might resort to the words of the traditional prayer Avinu Malkenu: “Our Father, our King!  Be gracious to us, and answer us, for we have no good works of our own; deal with us in charity and kindness, and save us.”

As we realize our moral emptiness, we also realize that we’ll have to throw ourselves on God’s mercy—and of course that’s right where he wants us. The God that we’re talking about is the one “who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist” (Rom 4:17). This is what Abraham learned on his long wait for an heir to be born of the desolate Sarah. And it’s something we can learn as well.

As a rabbi and counselor I often deal with addictions of various sorts. One of my favorite books on the subject is God of Our Understanding, by a Chabad rabbi, Shais Taub. It’s written from an Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) perspective, and the first two of the Twelve Steps of AA are:

• We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable.

• Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

Rabbi Taub comments, “The admission of powerlessness and unmanageability is not an aspect of recovery—it’s the very basis of it. Nothing else seems to work very well without complete and unconditional capitulation first.” Or in Avinu Malkenu terminology, when we realize that we “have no good works of our own,” we qualify for God’s work to get done in us. God isn’t impressed with our self-empowered efforts at reform and goodness, but “a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise” (Psa 51:17). The one with such a heart is the barren and desolate one, who ends up with a multitude of children. 

I’m trying to write this in a clear way that will make sense to you, my reader, but I have to admit that you’re unlikely to really get it until circumstances or God’s grace—or a combination of both—open your eyes to your barrenness and need for divine rescue. We do a lot in the modern world to avoid reaching this sort of eye-opener. Our consumerist, high-tech, entertainment-oriented, and addicted culture seems designed to distract us from such a realization. That’s why spiritual practices like worshipful prayer, contemplative reading, and self-examination are so important. And even as we pursue these practices, we’re still dependent on God’s faithfulness to bring us through.

In his book Addiction and Virtue, Christian scholar Kent Dunnington contrasts worship and addiction:

Addiction is seductive because it promises to address the disorder and disunity of the self without requiring that we relinquish control over our own lives. . . . Right worship, on the other hand, trains us to see that the disorder and disunity of the self are themselves a symptom of our sinful insistence on maintaining control over our own lives. . . . Worship trains us to see that the self is not something that we establish but rather something that we continually receive from God. 

So “the desolate one” refers to those who have finally given up on the need to control life and make something out of themselves. They’re devoid of any way to do that and, more important, they finally realize it. This desolate state allows God to move in, and amazingly, when he does the desolate one bears children.

I’m writing this as I sit in a gleaming lobby of Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles, a world-class institution where my oldest brother is hospitalized, struggling with an aggressive cancer and cascading medical problems. The staff is excellent, the technologies are state-of-the-art . . . and everything still hangs on God’s timing and mercy. As family we have words to speak and decisions to make, but we can only surrender the outcome into God’s hands.

It’s a difficult lesson, of course, but one that we all need to learn and re-learn continually. We become fruitful not through self-effort and not through passivity either, but through actively turning over our lives and circumstances to the God “who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist.”

We can be realistic as we face our failings and shortcomings during the Days of Awe, as addicts are realistic when they admit to being powerless over the alcohol or drugs or porn or compulsive spending or whatever has bound them up. We can be realistic as my family and I need to be in facing my brother’s impossible medical situation. Such realism isn’t ultimately pessimistic because it still counts on the merciful promises of God. We can be realistic and still maintain a joyful hope, “‘For the children of the desolate one will be more than the children of her who is married,’ says the Lord.”

In memory of my big brother, Dennis Resnik, who passed away on the night of August 20.

The Lord gives and the Lord has taken; blessed be the name of the Lord.

What Are We Waiting For?

Fourth Haftarah of Consolation, Isaiah 51:12–52:12

Michael Hillel, Netanya, Israel

When we pick up a book and glance through it to determine whether we would like to spend the time reading it, we may look over the table of contents as well as the chapter headings or introductions. However, it is the text itself that we read and delve into to truly understand the heart of the book and the goal of the author(s). Therefore, it is worthy to note that the chapters and verses of Scripture are not in the original texts but are a much later addition. A cursory online search shows an agreement that the current chapter and verse designations in the Christian translations of the Bible originated with Stephen Langton, Archbishop of Canterbury around 1227, and were first used in the Wycliffe English Bible in 1382. The Tanakh has a few deviations from this pattern, possibly due to the work of Rabbi Nathan in 1448.

Why this history lesson, you might ask. Often when we read the Scriptures, we subconsciously accept the stop-and-go pattern of the chapter breaks, verses, and even sub-headings. While these are useful tools in locating and remembering sections of Scripture, they were not part of the original inspired work of the Ruach set down by men of old.

With this in mind, let’s turn to the fourth of the Haftarot of Consolation, which follow the remembrances of Tisha b’Av and culminate the Shabbat before Rosh Hashanah. This week’s reading, Isaiah 51:12 through 52:12, continues the unbroken flow of Hashem’s encouragement through the prophet Isaiah that began four weeks ago with Shabbat Nachamu, (Isaiah 40:1–26). This week’s passage opens with the repeated emphasis by the Lord that it is he that comforts Israel. “I, I am the One who comforts you. Who are you that you should fear man?” (Isa 51:12).

Rav Shaul’s words of comfort to the believers in Rome may well have been inspired by Isaiah’s words: “If God is for us, who can be against us?” (Rom 8:31b).

The exterior circumstances should not be our main focus, no matter how difficult, or whether they be problems of our own making or the simple reality of living in world groaning for the realization of tikkun olam. Our main focus should be on him who provides the comfort, as the “author and finisher of our faith” (Heb 12:2), especially as he promised through the prophet Jeremiah: “‘For I know the plans that I have in mind for you,’ declares Adonai, ‘plans for shalom and not calamity—to give you a future and a hope’” (Jer 29:11).

Later in the Haftarah, Israel, and we as well, are encouraged, possibly even commanded, to awaken to this necessity, that of focusing on the Lord and not the circumstances. First the Lord says, “Awake, awake! Stand up, Jerusalem! From Adonai’s hand you have drunk the cup of His fury, the chalice of reeling that you have drained to the dregs” (Isa 51:17).

Yes, it was Israel’s fault that the discipline had come, and she was chastised like an errant child. By not choosing life (Deut 30:19), Israel received the promised consequence. But the consequence was not the final state of things. Discipline is performed not to bring death and destruction, but to bring change, growth, and redemption. Isaiah’s encouragement continues,

Awake, awake! Clothe yourself in your strength, Zion! Clothe yourself in beautiful garments, Jerusalem, the holy city, for the uncircumcised and the unclean will never invade you again. (Isa 52:1)

It is important to realize that along with the comforting words of Hashem, Israel is encouraged, maybe even commanded, to wake up, to stand up, and even to strengthen themselves. The Lord comforts and restores after discipline but it is Israel’s responsibility to get up, to stop wallowing in the mud of depression and self-pity, and to walk in the comfort and provision of her Lord. Remember, the Lord delivered Israel from Egyptian oppression and slavery, but they had to get up and walk out on their own. Had they sat in their homes instead of following Moshe out, who knows how the story would have ended? Rav Shaul exhorted the believers at Philippi to “work out your salvation with fear and trembling.  For the One working in you is God—both to will and to work for His good pleasure” (Phil 2:12–13). It would appear that both in the Tanakh and in the Apostolic Writings, we have a responsibility to work with Hashem for our betterment, for tikkun olam; we are not expected or even allowed just to sit on our tuchuses waiting for things to happen.

The 16th century kabbalist, Rabbi Shlomo Halevi Alkabetz, possibly summarized this Haftarah in his poem, Lecha Dodi, which is sung on Friday evening welcoming the entrance of the Shabbat.

Wake up, wake up,
Your light has come, rise and shine.
Awaken, awaken; sing a melody,
The glory of God to be revealed upon thee.

As we read the Haftarot of Consolation, can there be any greater consolation than being encouraged to enter into the rest provided by our Lord? What are we waiting for?

Isaiah's Riddle

Third Haftarah of Consolation, Isaiah 54:11–55:5

David Wein, Tikvat Israel, Richmond, VA

Question: How many bagels can you eat on an empty stomach?

Response: One. After that, your stomach is no longer empty.

This, of course, is a riddle; it’s an old rabbinic one, designed to invite the talmidim (followers) to think differently, and perhaps groan or roll their eyes. Riddles force us to slow down and examine our own assumptions: “Is there a double meaning that I’m missing here?” “Is there another way to think about this everyday idea?” 

This week’s haftarah portion contains a kind of riddle, which the prophet inserted perhaps to invite us, his future talmidim, into the text. Chapter 55 of Isaiah opens with:

All you who are thirsty, come to the water!

You without money, come, buy, and eat!

Yes, come! Buy wine and milk

without money — it’s free!

Why spend money for what isn’t food,

your wages for what doesn’t satisfy?

Listen carefully to me, and you will eat well,

you will enjoy the fat of the land. (Isaiah 55:1–2 CJB)

This is designed to get the proverbial hamster in our brain back on the wheel:

“And here I thought there was no such thing as a free lunch.”

“How can you possibly ‘buy’ something for free?”

“If what I’ve been buying to eat isn’t real food, then what is this real food, and how can I get some of it?” 

As for the word “buy” (Hebrew: shivru), the root first finds its use in the narrative of Joseph, in the book of Genesis. In order to survive, Joseph’s brothers need to buy food, which they can only do from their brother, whom they rejected. Of course, they do not have anything that Joseph really needs in exchange, so when they do buy grain to survive, we get the sense that Joseph is providing for them, and gifting them even beyond what they deserve. Indeed, Joseph is providing for all the surrounding nations as well in this kind of way, but especially for his brothers, the sons of Jacob. 

Our first sense of what salvation means comes from this very narrative. Salvation in Joseph’s story is abundant, packed to the full with forgiveness and restoration, and entirely orchestrated by the Savior himself. The ones who are being rescued pay nothing much, except perhaps their very selves. 

Salvation and restoration may be one answer to the riddle. Isaiah alludes to this earlier:

For I will pour water on the thirsty land

and streams on the dry ground;

I will pour my Spirit on your descendants,

my blessing on your offspring.

They will spring up among the grass

like willows on the riverbanks.

One will say, “I belong to Adonai.”

Another will be called by the name of Ya‘akov.

Yet another will write that he belongs to Adonai

and adopt the surname Isra’el. (Isa 44:3–5 CJB)

We imagine water on the thirsty ground bringing life and the presence of God, the fullness of restoration to Israel like lush flora, even to the point of affirming the very identity of Israel as belonging to Hashem. 

The medieval commentator, Rashi, links the water of Isaiah’s riddle to the Torah. In the apostolic witness, the authors link the water of restoration and salvation to the Messiah. We think of Yeshua’s exchange with the Samaritan woman in John 4:14: “Whoever drinks the water I will give him will never be thirsty again! On the contrary, the water I give him will become a spring of water inside him, welling up into eternal life!” Or the very last page of Scripture, in Revelation 22:17: “The Spirit and the Bride say, ‘Come!’ Let anyone who hears say, ‘Come!’ And let anyone who is thirsty come — let anyone who wishes, take the water of life free of charge.” The prophetic witness of the Hebrew Scriptures points to Hashem himself as the wellspring of life, the waters of salvation:

For my people have committed two evils: they have abandoned me, the fountain of living water, and dug themselves cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water! (Jer 2:13) 

Here we get a sense of meaning for that other sustenance which does not sustain: idolatry. Anything else besides God does not truly fill us, and is not really food. So why are we buying it, and eating it and drinking it up? Idolatry has a true cost to it, and in the end leaves us empty. Worshiping God, however, brings something we don’t need to purchase: salvation, restoration, and wholeness. 

So, the water and food, what do they represent in Isaiah’s riddle? Rescuing and restoration? Messiah? Torah? God? Since Isaiah himself does not answer the riddle, perhaps we are meant to hold all these possibilities in our mind, and to think them through. Perhaps we are meant to pause and re-examine something we think we already know. 

Do we thirst for Torah, for Messiah? Do we guard our hearts for Hashem, or do we spend our efforts trying to fill our lives with meaningless idols? The remainder of the riddle puts wine and milk in the analogy. Wine typically represents joy, and milk typically represents basic sustenance or provision, as for a baby. So, are we pursuing God in such a way that we are filled with joy, that we are nurtured by God and rely on Him like milk for an infant? 

The Haftarot of Comfort in the latter part of Isaiah point us to this truth: the redemption of Israel, and of all things, is at hand. So let us press into Isaiah’s riddle during this season of hope. For our hope comes from Yeshua, who is the fullest measure of salvation, restoration, Torah, the Messiah, and the visible image of the invisible God. Let us drink freely from the waters of life.

Look to Abraham Your Father

Second Haftarah of Consolation, Isaiah 49:14–51:3

by David Friedman, Union rabbi, Jerusalem

In the Torah’s narrative, we are at a critical juncture. Moses is teaching the new generation, those who would soon enter to live in the Land of Israel, and his words are recorded in the book of Deuteronomy. 

It will be important to the tribes as they make aliyah (immigration to Israel) to always remember that they are a people bound to God by covenant. Some 600 years after Moses’ death, Isaiah was sharing his message for the Kingdom of Judah and the same truth was relevant.

In Isaiah’s lifetime, there were both righteous and unrighteous kings in Judah. Yet it appears that in the end, idolatry and breaking the Torah were rife throughout the Land. Therefore, Isaiah foresees a judgment similar to what occurred to the Kingdom of Israel. He shares a message of the need to turn back to God (to do tshuvah in Hebrew) and to keep the covenant with him. Isaiah knows the people will need to remember these two crucial items in the near future.

Perhaps the biggest lie that Israel would ever believe, in all generations, is given to us for examination by Isaiah, as he considers the future of his people: Zion said: “Adonai abandoned me, and my God forgot me” (Isa 49:14, my translation). 

Believing this lie would affect Israel’s ability to live as the light that God created us to be. It doesn’t matter when in history this lie would be believed, the results would be the same: a great weakening of our shining light, whether in Israel or in the Diaspora. 

Isaiah was quick to counter this lie with the truth: 

Would a woman forget her tiny infant, from having mercy on the child of her womb? If this were possible, I still will not forget you!… Your [city] walls are always before me (Isa 49:15, 16b, my translation).

The questions in verse 15 are certainly rhetorical, in the poetry of the Hebrew Bible. Yet they confront our people throughout the generations with a wake-up call that is encouraging. 

I did not personally have to go through the Holocaust. Had I done so, I may very well have wondered, as in verse 14, if God was really faithful and loving. I have spoken with a number of persons (including Holocaust survivors) who indeed believe that if God exists, he abandoned our Jewish people during the vicious reign of Hitler. I will not judge any Holocaust survivor or victim for their thoughts on this. Yet Isaiah gives us the true perspective: God will not abandon Israel, not during the Babylonian Exile, and not during the Holocaust:

Though he walk in darkness, and have no light,        

Let him trust in the name of God, and rely upon his God. (Isa 50:10b, JPS)

What a compelling picture of Israel’s future from Isaiah’s day! So many Holocaust survivors have referred to that time period as an era of darkness, when little light was to be found. And a mere hundred and twenty years after Isaiah’s lifetime, Judah would experience siege, slaughter, and darkness. Even the light that existed is described as a raging, destructive fire: “He has ravaged Jacob like flaming fire, consuming on all sides” (Lam 2:3b, JPS). There was but darkness: “Bitterly she weeps in the night” (Lamentations 1:2, JPS).

Living in Israel today, it is not always easy to comprehend what Isaiah tells us. When 200,000 rockets face your borders, and when soldiers and civilians are constantly being attacked by jihad inspired terrorists, one can question where in the world God is and why he does not intervene. When we bury our young men and women in Israel in a continual stream, when the world’s politicians daily pick on Israel with slander, and when you have to go through a terror attack yourself (my family has been through a number of them), it is too easy to think, “Where is God? Why does he leave us in such circumstances? Why doesn’t he do something decisive? Is he present at all? Has he forgotten about us?”

When we are beset with such questions Isaiah’s words offer true and real comfort, and help us reconnect with the God who is indeed there. I have found that Isaiah’s words further on in our haftarah also are 100% true:

You shall know that I am Adonai, those who trust in Me shall not be shamed. . .

I will contend with your enemies, and I will deliver your children. (Isa 49:23b, 25, JPS)

These are simple and strong promises that are ever so relevant for our people today. Isaiah’s haftarah is like an Rx for our people’s pain and the situation in which we find ourselves today, in 2018.

 But Isaiah reverses this situation in our haftarah. God addresses the people of Judah, and asks them:

            Why, when I came, was no one there?

            Why, when I called, would no one respond? (Isa 50:2, JPS) 

God had come and called out to the tribes, to the leaders, the prophets and the priests; but no one listened to him. If the people were disappointed in God, well . . . he seemed to be disappointed in their responses to his call, as well.

And then Isaiah’s words, like a set of exclamation marks, come at the very end of our haftarah section. They challenged the Kingdom of Judah then, as well as us today, to understand our situation in light of God’s actions in biblical history:

Look to Abraham your father, and to Sarah, who gave you birth. He was alone when I called him, and I blessed him and made him many people. (Isa 51:1–2, my translation).

Why look to Abraham? What does this even mean? The Hebrew word used for “look to” here means to “take a look at” others, to consider them and their life.

Isaiah encourages us to consider Abraham and Sarah for a lesson we can learn about God’s faithfulness. Abraham was but one person when God singled him out for a close relationship via an eternal covenant. And God was faithful to bless him and cause his barren wife to be fruitful and have descendants. We can make a rabbinic kal ve’homer (a fortiori) argument here: if God is faithful to his promises to Abraham, will he not also be faithful to all of Abraham’s descendants? The answer is again implied, and it is a strong “yes!” 

Another strongly implied truth of our haftarah is that God’s promises to Israel (and those who are grafted into Israel) are eternal. They pass down from one generation to another. This is not a new message in Isaiah’s day. But it is a crucial one, and that may be why it appears as a thread in our haftarah text. If this was not the case, there would be little hope in Isaiah’s message here. 49:16 uses the word tamid in Hebrew to express the truth that God will “always” remember Israel. For God, it means the constant, daily remembering of his promises to Israel. 

Isaiah 49:17–26 specifies what this “daily remembering forever, always” would look like: it includes gathering the people of Israel and returning us, with the great aid of Gentile governments, to our homeland. (Indeed, King Cyrus of Persia did this in history, and perhaps there are modern day persons [David Lloyd George and Arthur James Balfour among them] who also can be counted as having carried out Isaiah’s words.)

They will bring your sons in their bosoms, and carry your daughters on their backs.

Kings shall tend your children, their queens shall serve you as nurses… (Isa 49:23b, JPS).

 The daily remembering also includes fighting against Israel’s enemies:

 I will contend with your adversaries, and I will deliver your children (Isa 49:25b, JPS).

Let us remember the lessons that Isaiah spoke out to the Kingdom of Judah: that God remembers Israel daily; that his remembering includes gathering and protecting Israel, and bringing us back to our homeland. Let us remember today that he will be present when trouble and darkness attack our lives. Finally, let us remember that we can learn about his faithfulness from the life of Abraham.