I Can’t Forgive Myself

Days of Awe 5781

Rabbi Russ Resnik

A young man I’ll call Jerry was sitting across from me in my counseling office, struggling to tell his story. He had immigrated to the USA with his family about 15 years earlier as a young teenager. His family stuck together, worked hard, and expected a lot from the kids. Jerry earned good grades throughout high school, got into a good university, and married a young woman from his community before he even graduated. They soon had two children; Jerry was working at a good job; they went to church together . . . and then Jerry left it all. He got into heavy drinking and was unfaithful to his wife and finally lost her to divorce.

Now, he was sober, getting his life back together, and tormenting himself with regret. “I asked my ex-wife to forgive me, and she did. My family forgave me too, and I know God forgives me, but he has to—he’s God. But I can’t forgive myself.”

When I teach or counsel about forgiveness, this is a question I hear more than any other: How do I forgive myself? I’ve searched the Scriptures for verses on forgiving yourself and can’t find any. You can repent (with God’s help) and you can receive God’s forgiveness, but you can’t forgive yourself.

And realizing this fact can be liberating, an essential step in the right direction.

I’m hesitant to speak of steps, though, because it might make this sound like a self-help exercise, and the truth is we can’t help ourselves. If we don’t realize that during the Days of Awe, we’re missing the whole point. But some of you might still feel like Jerry, even on Yom Kippur. And even if you don’t, you can probably think of a friend or loved one who does, who struggles with self-unforgiveness, not just during these days of repentance, but throughout the year.  

So the first thing is this: Give up. You cannot forgive yourself. You can stop blaming, second-guessing, tormenting yourself with regret—at least for a while—but the deep, cleansing, life-giving forgiveness—that can come only from God.

That leads to our second component: Receive God’s forgiveness. We receive it as a gift, undeserved and paid in full. One contemporary rabbi captures the paradox well:

Self-forgiveness is the essential act of the High Holiday season. That’s why we need heaven. That’s why we need God. We can forgive others on our own. But we turn to God . . . because we cannot forgive ourselves. (Alan Lew, This Is Real and You Are Completely Unprepared)

Accordingly the liturgy of Yom Kippur highlights our need to receive what we can’t give ourselves. As we recite the litany of our personal and communal sins, we interrupt the list again and again to call  out, “For all these sins, God of forgiveness, forgive us, pardon us, grant us atonement.”

God is always a God of forgiveness, always ready to forgive. Jerry told me that God forgives, “but he has to—he’s God.” Of course, that’s not quite right. God doesn’t really have to do anything, and he doesn’t forgive just because he is God, but because of the kind of God he is. Furthermore, we believe that through Messiah Yeshua he has granted atonement as the basis for his forgiveness once and for all time. This reality points to a third component of receiving forgiveness.

God’s forgiveness is once-for-all, but it’s hard for us to receive it once-for-all. We need to renew our hold on it continually, perhaps even every day. We do this by thanking God daily for his compassion, just as we do every year on Yom Kippur. Pray from the traditional Siddur or the Psalms and you can make thanking God for his forgiveness a daily habit.

In addition to giving thanks we might also need to seek God’s forgiveness repeatedly because we transgress against him repeatedly. Our Master taught us to pray like this:

Give us the food we need today.
Forgive us what we have done wrong,
    as we too have forgiven those who have wronged us. (Matt 6:11–12)

Just as we need food every day, so we’re likely to need forgiveness every day, or at least most days.

We receive God’s forgiveness once-for-all, then, and we renew our hold on his forgiveness daily through giving thanks, and through clearing out any sins that might have sprung up since.

This brings us to a final point. We express our gratitude for forgiveness not only in words but also through action. In his model prayer, Messiah Yeshua points us to one way of responding to God’s forgiveness, which is to forgive those who have wronged us. He makes a similar point later on: “And when you stand praying, if you have anything against anyone, forgive him; so that your Father in heaven may also forgive your offenses” (Mark 11:25).

We need to hear these words in balance with the rest of Messiah’s teaching, as well as the rest of Scripture. The Father’s forgiveness isn’t conditional on our acts of forgiving others. It’s a free gift, but we can’t lay hold, or keep hold, of that gift as long as we’re hanging on to the charges we have against others. I can’t forgive myself, but I can forgive others, and in doing so I receive God’s forgiveness and begin to live in a climate of forgiveness and compassion. “Be kind to each other, tenderhearted; and forgive each other, just as in the Messiah God has also forgiven you” (Eph 4:32).

So during this season of repentance and forgiveness, let’s remember four essentials:

1. Give up: you can’t forgive yourself, so

2. Receive forgiveness as a gift from God, and

3. Renew your hold on that gift each day, and

4. Forgive others as an expression of thanks.

The Torah sums up its instructions for Yom Kippur like this: “For on this day, atonement will be made for you to purify you; you will be clean before Adonai from all your sins” (Lev 16:30). “Atonement will be made for you” is Yikhaper aleikhem in Hebrew, literally, “He will make atonement for you,” but it’s not clear who the “he” is here. It might be the High Priest, as in some translations, but the sages don’t all agree. I like Rabbi Akiva’s reading:

Happy are you, O Israel. Before whom are you made clean, and who makes you clean? It is your Father who is in heaven, as it says (Ezek 36:25), “And I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean.” (m.Yoma 8:9)

Amen. Thank you, Father, that you have designed things so that we can’t forgive ourselves, but must come to you to receive forgiveness. And thank you that you provide the cleansing water of forgiveness in full measure, once for all and renewed each day, through the atoning sacrifice of Messiah Yeshua.

All Scripture references are from Complete Jewish Bible (CJB).

Jerry’s story is based on actual counseling sessions with details changed to protect privacy.

A Tale of Two (Non-Binary) Sons

Rosh Hashana 5781

Rabbi Russ Resnik

Now that my title got your attention, I’ll let you know this message isn’t about non-binary gender identity. Instead, it’s about looking beyond the usual binary reading of Isaac and Ishmael, in which Isaac is the chosen son, the beloved, the faithful, the son of destiny, and Ishmael is the rejected son, the unloved, the son of unbelief and perdition. There’s a lot to support that reading, for sure, but our non-binary reading is truer to the whole narrative of Genesis, and brings out a dimension of the story that’s of special importance to us, particularly as we approach the Days of Awe.

The Akedah, the account of the binding of Isaac in Genesis 22, traditionally read on the second day of Rosh Hashana, is so iconic that we’re liable to forget the preceding story, which we read on the first day. Genesis 21 opens with the birth of Isaac, the son promised to Abraham through his wife Sarah. Sarah soon begins to pressure Abraham to send away his first son, born through his union with Hagar, Sarah’s bondwoman. Abraham is not happy about this idea, but God instructs him to listen to Sarah, adding, “And I will make a nation of the son of the slave woman also, because he is your offspring” (Gen 21:13). Isaac is the chosen one, but God has a parallel purpose for Ishmael.

The parallel between the two sons becomes even more striking in the very next phrase: “So Abraham rose early in the morning . . .” (Gen 21:14). This phrase, just three words in Hebrew, Vayashkem Avraham baboker, is repeated verbatim in the Akedah, as Abraham’s response when God commands him to offer up Isaac. In both cases Abraham rises up early to obey the divine command, and both cases constitute a great trial of faith for Abraham.

After Hagar and Ishmael are sent away, Genesis 21 goes on to recount their story with great compassion, pointing beyond the binary of chosen/rejected to their shared humanity. Jewish theologian Michael Wyschogrod notes that this same compassion pervades the story of Esau, and draws a conclusion:

Surely non-election does not equal rejection. Ishmael and Esau, the sons of non-election, are suffused in the divine word with a compassion in some respects more powerful than the love of the sons of election. . . . Not to be the favorite son of a human father is a painful experience, but the non-election of God is never a finality, only one way of being touched by the finger of God. [1]

In contrast, Paul pictures Isaac and Ishmael in sharply binary terms in one of his letters. He’s writing to a group of Yeshua-followers who are being influenced to receive circumcision and become “obligated to keep the whole law” (Gal 5:3). In response, Paul says the story of Abraham’s two sons “may be interpreted allegorically,” as pointing to two covenants, one “from Mount Sinai, bearing children for slavery”—the bondage of trying to fulfill the law on our own power—and the other reflecting “the Jerusalem above which is free, and she is our mother” (Gal 4:22–24, 26). Paul continues:

Now you, brothers, like Isaac, are children of promise. But just as at that time he who was born according to the flesh persecuted him who was born according to the Spirit, so also it is now. But what does the Scripture say? “Cast out the slave woman and her son, for the son of the slave woman shall not inherit with the son of the free woman.” (Gal 4:28–30)

Paul builds on one element of the Isaac-Ishmael story to make a vital point to followers of Yeshua: we are children of Abraham not through self-effort, but through promise and by the Spirit, and this is how we are to live our lives in union with Messiah. But the wider implication of the original story that Wyschogrod identified remains: Ishmael too is “touched by the finger of God.” Beneath the level of his non-election, he shares profoundly in Abraham’s story in the end:

These are the days of the years of Abraham’s life, 175 years. Abraham breathed his last and died in a good old age, an old man and full of years, and was gathered to his people. Isaac and Ishmael his sons buried him in the cave of Machpelah, in the field of Ephron the son of Zohar the Hittite, east of Mamre. (Gen 25:7–9)

At Abraham’s death, the estranged brothers come together again. Then, immediately after noting God’s blessing on Isaac, the story continues with a list of the generations of Ishmael, who fathers twelve sons, which become twelve tribes, paralleling the twelve tribes of Israel. Moreover, the text describes Ishmael’s death in 25:17 with the term vayigva, “he breathed his last” or “he expired,” a term, according to Rashi, which is usually applied only to the righteous (like Abraham at 25:8). And also like Abraham, Ishmael after breathing his last is “gathered to his people” (Gen 25:17). This wording—“breathed his last” and “gathered to his people”—appears only two more times in Genesis, at the death of Isaac (35:29) and the death of Jacob (49:33). Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob . . . and Ishmael as well.

Upon the death of Abraham, not only are Isaac and Ishmael reunited, at least briefly, but Ishmael regains his stature as a son, even if not as a chosen one.

During this season of repentance and humility, we might be tempted to remind God of our chosenness, of the favor he has already bestowed upon us. And we might wonder why we need to go through the litany of repentance and calling out for mercy, since we’ve surely been forgiven through the atoning work of Messiah Yeshua. But perhaps it’s a time to approach God in more basic, non-binary terms. We are simply human beings, loved by God but fallen and in need of his mercy—like all of humankind.  

As we enter the Days of Awe, then, let’s not resort to the shallow refuge of labeling ourselves as the good son or daughter, the chosen, the righteous, the saved, but let’s stand instead with all those in need of mercy, ki ein banu ma’asim, because we have no good works of our own.

For God has consigned all to disobedience, that he may have mercy on all. 

Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways! 

“For who has known the mind of the Lord,
    or who has been his counselor?”
“Or who has given a gift to him
    that he might be repaid?” 

For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen. (Rom 11:32–36)

All Scripture references are from the ESV.

[1] Michael Wyschogrod, “Israel, the Church, and Election” in Abraham’s Promise: Judaism and Jewish-Christian Relations (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), 186–187.

Walking Life's Narrow Bridge

Photo by appratio App Builder on Unsplash

Haftarat Nitzavim, Isaiah 61:10–63:9

Rabbi Stuart Dauermann, PhD

If maintaining one’s balance is always a challenge, how much more so is this the case in tumultuous times?

The great Rabbi Nachman of Breslov (1772–1810) put it this way: “The world is a narrow bridge and the important thing is to not be afraid.” Afraid of what? Afraid of falling off onto one side, or one extreme, or the other.

From time to time, all of us are uncomfortable on the narrow bridge of life. That is when we walk by fear and not by faith, when we are called to walk by faith and not by sight.

Picture someone walking across a tightrope, walking slowly and carefully to the other side. We can only get from our “here” to God’s “there” if we can learn to keep some sort of balance. Today’s haftarah calls us to that balance and gives us some hints about how to maneuver.

The balance we must maintain is the balance between the certainty of Israel’s final redemption, and the imperative that we do all we can to hasten that redemption. To put it another way, we must walk the balance between recognizing that the salvation of Israel is in the hands of God and recognizing that he holds us all accountable to do what we can to bring it to pass.

Our haftarah takes us out onto this tightrope, as it opens this way, speaking of Israel’s final destiny:

I am so joyful in Adonai!
My soul rejoices in my God,
for he has clothed me in salvation,
dressed me with a robe of triumph,
like a bridegroom wearing a festive turban,
like a bride adorned with her jewels.
For just as the earth brings forth its plants,
or a garden makes its plants spring up,
so Adonai, God, will cause victory and glory
to spring up before all nations. (Isa 61:10–11 CJB)

Here we have the certainty of the glorious salvation of Israel in the sight of all the nations. Then, immediately following, we read of our present responsibilities—which we tend to neglect. Isaiah alludes to two responsibilities. The first is our priestly responsibility to engage in intercessory prayer for Israel, and through Israel, for the nations.

For Tziyon’s sake I will not be silent,
for Yerushalayim’s sake I will not rest,
until her vindication shines out brightly
and her salvation like a blazing torch. (Isa 62:1 CJB)

This is our prophetic responsibility. It is not to be bystanders, or observers, but rather to be participants, intercessors, doing the work to which God calls us. We are called to not be silent. We must never be the silent partners of the Holy One.

This refers first to our responsibility to not be silent in prayer. Speak to the Holy One on behalf of his people. But also, speak to our people and encourage them to align themselves with God’s salvation, especially that salvation he has provided us in Messiah.

God’s glorious salvation of Israel is in the hands of God. But we are charged for Zion’s sake to not be silent—to be diligent and persistent in the priestly work of prayer, and in the prophetic work of proclamation bringing our people to engage with God’s saving activity in the world, especially as accomplished in our Messiah and released by his Spirit.

This is why we are told,

At many times and in many ways, God spoke long ago to the fathers through the prophets. In these last days He has spoken to us through a Son, whom He appointed heir of all things and through whom He created the universe. This Son is the radiance of His glory and the imprint of His being, upholding all things by His powerful word. When He had made purification for our sins, He sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high. (Heb 1:1–3 TLV)

We also read,  

This Yeshua God raised up—we all are witnesses! Therefore, being exalted to the right hand of God and receiving from the Father the promise of the Ruach ha-Kodesh, He poured out this—what you now see and hear. (Acts 2:32–33 TLV)

He poured out his Spirit to empower us for the work of inviting and urging all people to align themselves with the will of God before the time comes when Messiah returns as judge of all.  

God is at work; that is clear. But look at the tightrope in the text—not only is he at work, but we must be at work as well. “For Tziyon’s sake I will not be silent, for Yerushalayim’s sake we must not rest, until her vindication shines out brightly and her salvation like a blazing torch.” That is God’s responsibility—bringing Israel to her promised final destiny.

Again, the issue is balance. This tightrope is what is called an antinomy—two truths that seem contradictory but which must both be affirmed—and kept in balance, lest one fall off to one side or the other. We should trust as if it all depends on God and we should pray and proclaim as if it all depends on us.

Our haftarah reminds us how the Holy One has already done the heavy lifting that guarantees his saving future.

Who is this, coming from Edom,
from Botzrah with clothing stained crimson,
so magnificently dressed,
so stately in his great strength?

“It is I, who speak victoriously,
I, well able to save.”

Why is your apparel red,
your clothes like someone treading a winepress?

“I have trodden the winepress alone;
from the peoples, not one was with me. . . .
I looked, but there was no one to help,
and I was appalled that no one upheld me.
Therefore my own arm brought me salvation,
and my own fury upheld me.” (Isa 63:1–3a, 5 CJB)

Yeshua modeled the triumph of faith and commitment: “For the joy set before Him, He endured the cross, disregarding its shame; and He has taken His seat at the right hand of the throne of God” (Heb 12:2 TLV). He is walking the tightrope ahead of us. Our task is to follow him onto that narrow bridge between our today and the tomorrow to which we are pointed by a faithful God.

How Can I Be Sure?

Parashat Ki Tavo, Deuteronomy 26:1–29:8
by Michael Hillel, Netanya, Israel

In August of 1967, The Young Rascals recorded what would become their fourth Top Ten hit, How Can I Be Sure? The chorus echoes in our thoughts as we traverse the month of Elul in preparation for the Days of Awe, Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. 

How can I be sure, in a world that’s constantly changing?

How can I be sure, where I stand with you? 

The month of Elul is a time of introspection, looking back on our lives and actions, on our thoughts and motives, on our attitudes toward the world around us. A time not just to examine, but more importantly to adjust or change what is needed and to work toward reconciliation or restoration when required—both with God and with our fellow man (or woman). So, what does Elul have to do with this song? How can we be sure where we stand in our relationship with our God as well as with others? In Deuteronomy 10:12–13, Moses encouraged Israel, 

So now, O Israel, what does Adonai your God require of you, but to fear Adonai your God, to walk in all His ways and love Him, and to serve Adonai your God with all your heart and with all your soul, to keep the mitzvot of Adonai and His statutes that I am commanding you today, for your own good? 

Moses could have ended this admonition with “for you must be holy as Adonai your God is holy,” which would have been a true statement, oft repeated in Scripture. Instead, Moses chose to end with the words, “for your own good.” Serve Hashem, keep his mitzvot, because it is “for your own good.” The prophet Micah would later write similar words, 

He has told you, humanity, what is good, and what Adonai is seeking from you: only to practice justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God. (Micah 6:8)

Then there is Yeshua’s declaration to his talmidim, “If you love Me, you will keep My commandments” (John 14:15). In context, Yeshua is explaining to his talmidim how to stay in proper alignment with his father. 

Therefore, in answer to How can I be sure, where I stand with you? (in reference to standing before Hashem) the answer is quite simple—obedience to what we know we ought to do. Just to be clear, I am not talking about our eternal relationship with God or the forgiveness of our sin that comes through Yeshua, but of our daily relationship with him. It’s interesting that in Micah’s words, justice and mercy are actions focused toward our fellow man, while walking humbly is focused on Hashem. If expressed mathematically, it seems that we need to work twice as hard to ensure proper relationships with others than we do to be rightly related to Hashem. 

Now let’s consider this week’s parasha, Ki Tavo, Deuteronomy 26:1–29:8. It begins by describing the offering that Israel was to bring to the kohen (priest), after they had come into the land, and possessed and settled it (Deut 26:1). I want to draw our attention to the affirmation of the covenant in Deuteronomy 26:16–17. 

This day Adonai your God is commanding you to do these statutes and ordinances—so you are to take care and do them with all your heart and with all your soul. Today you have affirmed Adonai as your God, that you will walk in His ways, keep His statutes, mitzvot and ordinances, and listen to His voice.

Again, we see an answer as to how we can be sure of where we stand—by taking care and doing all that Hashem has requires. Moses then points out some specific areas of obedience: 

1)      Care for those in need. “When you finish tithing the full tenth of your produce in the third year, the year of the tithe, you are to give it to the Levite, to the outsider, to the orphan and to the widow, so that they may eat within your town gates and be satisfied” (Deuteronomy 26:12).

2)      Proper treatment of one another. In Deuteronomy 27, the causes of the curses that will come upon Israel are listed. Notice that these causes deal with how we treat one another:

a.       Dishonoring parents (vs 16)

b.      Misleading the blind (vs 18)

c.       Perversion of justice (vs 19)

d.      Sexual immorality (vss 20–23)

e.       Murder (vss 24–25)

3)      Idolatrous worship (vs 15). While idolatry could be considered an action toward God, the making and setting up an idol potentially draws others away from the true worship of Hashem, so that idolatry also applies to human relationships. Therefore, it could be said that all the causes of the curses are due to improper interactions with others. 

These points affirm one way to know “how we can be sure where we stand with Hashem”—by remaining properly related to others. We need to guard their dignity, to help supply their needs when we are able, and to truly see ourselves as responsible for one another’s welfare.  

Social justice and care for the poor and needy are intrinsically tied to Judaism. The conditions of this fallen world breed want and need, poverty and despair. But Hashem prepared a solution for tikkun olam, for the repair of the world. He desires to pour out his blessings on his people, not for their betterment alone, but for the welfare of the community. But this understanding of tikkun olam is not primarily motivated by the needs of others. Rather tikkun olam should motivate the people of God to follow his commandments. This week’s parasha ends with, “keep the words of this covenant and do them, so that you may prosper in all that you do” (29.8; [9]). John would later write to his community: “We know that we love God’s children by this—when we love God and obey His commandments” (1 John 5.2). 

Probably the best answer to “how can I be sure” comes from Yeshua’s answer when a lawyer asked, “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Torah?”  

And He said to him, “‘You shall love Adonai your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’” (Matt 22:36–39)

In other words, Yeshua was telling the lawyer that the greatest commandment is to be properly related to both Hashem and to one another. During this month of Elul, we can know where we stand with Hashem by ensuring that we too are properly related toward God and toward one another. 

Unless otherwise noted, Scriptures are from the Tree of Life (TLV) translation.

“How Can I Be Sure” licensed to WMG (on behalf of Atlantic Records).

Compassion in an Unjust World

Photo by Quaid Lagan on Unsplash

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

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

Recently I went on a picnic with my wife and youngest daughter at a local park well known for its exceptionally groomed rose gardens. I was reminded of a time over two decades ago, when I took a leisurely walk with my wife and in-laws at the same park and we happened upon an understated and unpublicized public demonstration. At the time we went down a path that led to a small, shaded pond where we would sometimes go to relax and feed the ducks. That day the pond was crowded with about fifty participants launching tiny replica sailboats. Several spectators like ourselves probably happened serendipitously upon the event. It was not immediately apparent what the significance of the boats was until a series of speeches were given which proclaimed the activity as a commemoration of the nuclear bombing of Hiroshima by the U.S. military. I was immediately impressed by the passivity of the demonstration against war in general and nuclear proliferation specifically.  

My father-in-law, though, was visibly upset. Though he was not a hawkish type at all, he reacted to what he understood as a simplistic and naive demonstration, which had failed to acknowledge the lives saved by the historic bombing. One of those lives saved might have in fact been his own, since he had just finished boot camp in Biloxi, Mississippi, at the time of the unprecedented military action. It did not escape me then or now that the horrific attack on Hiroshima may have ironically saved not only my father-in-law’s progeny but by extension mine as well. We might ask if it is necessary to take such drastic measures in dealing with the present injustices that exist in the world to fulfill a mandate of compassion. 

This moral conundrum is still pressing today. Though I do not believe just civilizations desire to be involved in continuous and protracted violence, some would say it is often necessary for the greater good. It should be taken into account that the decision to escalate the response using weapons of mass destruction changed the history of violence exponentially. President Harry S. Truman wrote concerning the decision to drop the bomb, “I felt to extract a genuine surrender from the Emperor and his military advisors there must be administered a tremendous shock which would carry convincing proof of the power to destroy the Empire. Such an effective shock would save many times the number of lives, both American and Japanese, than it cost.” Yet reasonable people cannot be comfortable with the nuclear proliferation that has followed that initial action, as well as the use of chemical weapons and other WMDs. How should true believers feel when attempting to hold hatred of violence and compassion for those victimized in creative tension with contempt for evil and the necessity in this world for swift and proportionate justice? 

This week’s parasha, Ki Tetse, begins, “When you go to war against your enemies.” The realities and assumptions of the ancient world are expressed in this statement from God by the mouth of Moses. Notice it says “when” and not “if.” This does not mean that the Holy One universally advocates war; rather that he recognizes that in this age there will be war. In the ancient world, life was governed and patterned by morally capricious and mean-spirited deities, not a benevolent and purposeful God. The message then was clearly understood – grab what you can when you can. But Torah initiates a change in how first Israel, and then the other nations, would begin to understand and incorporate mercy and compassion into the fabric of society.  

Of course, this can be hard to observe from the first command given in this parasha. Roughly paraphrased, if a man takes a woman as a spoil of war, he is commanded to give her a place in his harem rather than merely discarding her, in this way domesticating and systematizing war rape. But there is also a caveat that if the man should grow weary of the woman, he may dismiss her, but he may not sell her into slavery. Certainly, these practices would not be deemed acceptable today anywhere in the civilized world. The men of Israel are told how to treat women captured in war, but are never told to keep their hands off, instruction which, from our ethical vantage point, would be considerably better. But within a world system where women were considered weak and inferior, valued only for their physical appeal and procreative abilities, the laws of Israel provided much greater protection. In the ancient Near East, when a woman’s apparent fate was captivity, she would beautify herself in hopes of being accorded mercy by her captors. Only in the Torah of Israel are war captives afforded this level of civility, and given an appropriate length of time to mourn their dead while being cared for and protected. Only then could they be “married” by their captors.  

Though it may sound ludicrous on the surface, the biblical narrative and stipulations do describe a process of taming an already chaotic world. Israel and its law system are radical and transforming to the ancient world of the Bible, but they do not immediately overturn the entire social order of the existing world system. To say they did not go far enough might seem like an extreme understatement from our contemporary vista, but they introduce standards of mercy that were previously absent in the ancient world. Torah describes the entrance of God’s cosmic ordering into the socio-moral plane. Israel in turn acts as the conduit of God’s principles to a world already filled with disharmony, violence, and inequality.  

Ki Tetse continues to lay out an array of commandments all concerned with ethical and moral treatment, and compassion for all. The favoring of siblings (Deut 21:15–17), dealing with unruly offspring (21:18–21), honoring the deceased (21:22–23), compassion toward animals (22:6–7; 10; 25:4), and the proper treatment of hired help (24:14–15) are all covered in this portion. Like the treatment of women, the statutes contained in this portion may at times seem inadequate, dated, or irrelevant to us. But in fact, they represent a code and trajectory that has changed and transformed the world and continues to do so, when God’s people understand and apply the intention of these commands, ordinances, and judgements. They suggest to us that first and foremost our creator wishes us to imitate him by bringing a touch of mercy into an already unjust world. Only in Torah can mercy and justice be held together in such a delicate tension.  

An ancient midrash tells of a king who possessed a delicate set of glasses. He desired to pour hot drinks into them but feared they might expand and shatter. He wished to pour cold drinks into them but feared they might contract and break. So, he chose to mix the hot and the cold beverages and pour them into the glasses, leaving them intact. In the same way, the midrash continues, the Holy One, blessed be he, mixes together mercy and justice, for if the world were filled with only justice who might stand? – but if it were filled with only mercy, evil would proliferate.  

Above all God is the Merciful One. If we wish to imitate him, we must bring compassion into all of the circumstances of life. The High Holidays are approaching, a time of reflection and introspection. This is a time when we ask the Holy One how we might better reflect his glory in the coming year.  

Rachmunas – compassion – is what we see in the Torah passage, because God is a compassionate God. If we want to make him smile, we ask ourselves the question, “How can I be a more compassionate human being and bring mercy into an often-unjust world?” As moms, dads, friends, neighbors, employers, and children of God – how can we live and act more compassionately? Through the month of Elul as you hear the shofar, and into the Days of Awe, Torah compels us to answer this question.

Are You a Perfectionist?

Parashat Shoftim, Deuteronomy 16:18–21:9

Dr. Vered Hillel, Netanya, Israel 

I am a perfectionist! For as long as I can remember, I have been a perfectionist with a passionate love of God. Together, these two characteristics have helped me be a healthy perfectionist, which is a person who has high standards and good organizational skills, is persistent, and adheres to a set of goals that energizes them but does not make them feel overwhelmed or paralyzed.  

The Bible calls us to be perfectionists. Its understanding of perfectionism, however, is quite different from that of the world in which we live. In the Bible, a perfectionist is one who walks blamelessly or wholeheartedly before Hashem, or who is whole, complete, or perfect (Gen 17:1; Josh 24:14; Psa 18:23, 26; Matt 5:48; Rom 12:2; and so forth). The command to be “perfect” is buried among the responsibilities for civil and religious authorities in this week’s parasha, “You must be tamim (perfect, blameless, wholehearted, completely loyal) before Adonai your God” (Deut 18:13). The key, then, to understanding the biblical view of perfection is the word tamim. Let’s take a brief look at various uses of this word in the Tanakh. 

We are probably most familiar with the term tamim from the Pesach (Passover) lamb, which is to be “perfect (tamim), a male one year old” (Exod 12:5). In fact, all of the sacrifices are to be tamim, meaning they are to be “unimpaired,” or “flawless,” with no blemishes, diseases or physical defects. Tamim also describes a complete year (Josh 25:3) or a complete/full day (Josh 10:13). We begin to see that tamim indicates something that is complete, or whole. When tamim is used in relation to people, however, the word refers to ethical and moral behavior related to one’s walk with God and is often contrasted with behavior that Hashem deems abhorrent or unacceptable. Scripture says that Noah was tamim in his generation and walked with God (Gen 6:9). Hashem commands Abram to “walk before me and be perfect (blameless)” (Gen 17:1). Walking with/before God indicates proper worship of and relationship with him.  

In Parashat Shoftim, B’nei Israel is standing on the other side of the Jordan River about to enter Canaan. In the midst of Moses’ farewell speech to Israel, Hashem warns B’nei Israel not to learn and imitate the behavior of the people in the land, which includes divination, sorcery, necromancy, augury, and soothsaying. Instead, B’nei Israel is to be wholehearted/ blameless/perfect before him (Deut 18:9–14). In these verses, tamim is connected with behavior; don’t behave like the world around you but be tamim. Behavior and its consequences are further contrasted in the wisdom books. Psalm 37:18–21 contrasts the consequences of the tamim with that of the wicked; Psalm 101 contrasts a person who walks in the way of tamim, which includes integrity and honesty in every area of life, with those who are proud, deceitful, dishonest, and slanderers (cf. Psa 15:2[1]— one who walks in tamim does what is right and speaks honestly). Hashem watches over the tamim and withholds no good thing from them (Psa 37:18, 84:12). Proverbs 2:21 and 11:5 contrast the tamim with the wicked.  

Hashem’s ways and Word are perfect (tamim): “As for God, his way is perfect (tamim)” (Psa 18:31) and “the Torah of Hashem is perfect (tamim) and restores life” (Psa 19:8[7]). People who walk in the ways of Torah are blessed for their actions: “How blessed are those whose actions are blameless (tamimei), who walk in the Torah of Adonai “ (Psa 119:1). Psalm 18:24[23], 26[27] also explain that a tamim person keeps Hashem’s commands and does not violate them. Psalm 119 expresses the psalmist’s plea to Hashem, “May my heart be tamim to your statutes, so that I might not be ashamed (Ps 119: 80). 

From these verses we learn that being “perfect” directly relates to our walk with God, which includes our relationship with and worship of him, imitating him and not the world around us, and loving his Word and keeping it. One who is perfect (tamim) in this manner is blessed; their soul is restored, and they lack no good thing. Notice that nothing is said in these verses about doing things wrong, or sin, or failure, or judgment. The Bible’s view of perfection is a wholehearted commitment to Hashem and his Torah. Being tamim means that a person is undivided in their loyalty to God, relying on him alone, and serving him with undivided loyalty (be-tamim u’ve’emet, Josh 24:14). Deuteronomy 32:4 tells us that Hashem’s deeds are perfect (tamim). He and his deeds are reliable and faithful, completely loyal. 

Yes, the Bible teaches us to be perfect; to be perfectionists who seek Hashem with our whole hearts, mind, and soul, and who loyally and faithfully walk with and serve him. Our perfectionism lies in imitating Hashem and his ways and not the ways or standards of the world around us. This understanding is echoed in Rav Shaul’s command, “Do not be conformed to this present world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may test and approve what is the will of God—what is good and well-pleasing and perfect (teleios=tamim).” 

As I said at the beginning, I am a perfectionist by nature. Both my perfectionism and love and desire for Hashem are gifts from him. My God-given desire for him led me to be a perfectionist by his standards and not by the world’s. I still sin, do wrong, and unintentionally struggle with the ways of the world as listed in Psalms—pride, deceit, dishonesty, and slander. But they are not who I am. I encourage all of us to be perfectionists for Hashem; to be people who imitate God with our whole hearts, mind, and soul, who with undivided loyalty and faithfulness walk with and serve him, and who are not conformed to this world, but are continually renewing our minds so we can be tamim before him.

Check Your Idols

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

Rabbi David Friedman, Jerusalem

In today’s portion, Moshe continues his exhortations to the tribes before they enter their land of inheritance.  

See, I am setting before you today a blessing and a curse — the blessing, if you listen to the mitzvot [instructions] of Adonai your God that I am giving you today; and the curse, if you don’t listen to the instructions of Adonai your God, but turn aside from the way I am ordering you today  and follow other gods that you have not known.

When Adonai your God brings you into the land you are entering in order to take possession of it, you are to put the blessing on Mount Gerizim and the curse on Mount ‘Eival. (11:26–29 CJB)

Moshe explains to the people how to enter into a life of blessing. The Hebrew word “blessing” (berakha, ברכה) comes from the word for “knee.” In the ancient Jewish mind, to be blessed was to be given reasons to bow one’s knee in thanksgiving to the Almighty. This is what Moshe was helping the nation to experience. The other option was to live lives full of cursing. The word for “curse” (kelala, קללה) comes from the word “lightweight,” reminding us of the properties of a feather. So if one is cursed, one’s life has the effect and influence of a feather. Everything one does comes to naught. So Moshe pulls no punches here. He makes it quite clear that there are two options for the twelve tribes in the Land of Israel: a life of obedience and blessing or a cursed life.  

The first exhortation is to listen to God’s instructions as they are taught by Moshe. “Listen,” or shema (שמע) in Hebrew, is best translated as “physically hear with the intention of carrying out what you hear.” That is, put yourself in a position to do what you are taught. The word is in its plural form, so Moshe was addressing the entire nation: all twelve tribes are being exhorted to do what they are learning and hearing. 

Then Moshe tells them that they are to have a ceremony at the site of Shechem (close to today’s modern city of Nablus). This ceremony will have part of the people stand on Mt. Gerizim, and the others on Mt. Ebal, reciting the blessings and curses involved in obeying or disobeying God’s instructions. We later read about that ceremony in Joshua 8. It is a testimony to the enduring power of God’s words that even in modern times, the area around Mt. Gerizim (the hill of blessings) is green, while the area around Mt. Ebal (the hill of curses) is much dustier, much more desolate. That is how those two high places looked when I went there on a personal pilgrimage just one month ago. “When Adonai your God brings you into the land you are entering in order to take possession of it, you are to put the blessing on Mount Gerizim and the curse on Mount ‘Eival” (11:29 CJB). 

Moshe concludes this section with his constant and repeating point: “And you are to take care to follow all the laws and rulings I am setting before you today” (11:32 CJB). 

It is amazing how heartfelt obedience to God influenced matters then (and now, too!). It is perhaps paralleled, to some degree, by the parent-child relationship. Those of you who are parents know that nothing is more pleasing than when your child does something they know will please you with all their heart. It makes us parents happy, grateful, and pleased. I imagine God looks at things similarly when his people do what pleases him with all our hearts. 

It is worthwhile to note the very first thing on the to-do list of God’s instructions is to deal with idolatry. It is written: 

You must destroy all the places where the nations you are dispossessing served their gods, whether on high mountains, on hills, or under some leafy tree. Break down their altars, smash their standing-stones to pieces, burn up their sacred poles completely and cut down the carved images of their gods. Exterminate their name from that place. But you are not to treat Adonai your God this way. (12:2–4 CJB)

 And again, Moshe re-emphasizes this need:

Be careful not to be ensnared by inquiring about their gods, saying, “How do these nations serve their gods? We will do the same.” You must not worship your God in their way, because in worshiping their gods, they do all kinds of detestable things Adonai hates. They even burn their sons and daughters in the fire as sacrifices to their gods. (Deut 12:30–31)

He continued, in this talk, to emphasize this line of thought:  

If your very own brother, or your son or daughter, or the wife you love, or your closest friend secretly entices you, saying, “Let us go and worship other gods” (gods that neither you nor your ancestors have known, gods of the peoples around you, whether near or far, from one end of the land to the other), do not yield to them or listen to them. (Deut 13:6–8)

We can see how crucial it was to eliminate all traces of idolatry. Idolatry is one thing that God would not tolerate, the quickest way to threaten the covenant relationship with him. Even the former places of Canaanite idolatry were to be destroyed. God did not want his beloved people to be tripped up and have their lives ruined by idolatry. Entrance into the Land of Promise was only the beginning. The presence of Jacob’s descendants in the Land was to be anchored by a covenant-based faithfulness to God. That is, their blessings would depend upon how well they followed God’s instructions, as explained in the covenants. It really wasn’t hard to please God: love him will all one’s heart, love one’s neighbors, and keep God’s instructions. That was the winning formula. And it is this winning formula that Moshe now takes pains to carefully impart to the people. This is what we see in our parasha this week.

Today’s parasha also contains part of Israel’s economic structure that is simply marvelous. Let’s remember that it was God who conceived this structure: 

At the end of every seven years you must cancel debts. This is how it is to be done: Every creditor shall cancel any loan they have made to a fellow Israelite. They shall not require payment from anyone among their own people, because Adonai’s time for canceling debts has been proclaimed. . . . However, there need be no poor people among you, for in the land Adonai your God is giving you to possess as your inheritance, he will richly bless you, if only you fully obey Adonai your God and are careful to follow all these instructions I am giving you today. For Adonai your God will bless you as he has promised, and you will lend to many nations but will borrow from none. (15:1–6) 

In today’s world, there is much ado being made about viable economic structures and policies. Countries really struggle to find a system that promotes national wealth and doesn’t bankrupt their citizens. In ancient Israel, all people were considered valuable; their economic welfare was to be a concern of everyone. A key to economic blessing was forgiveness of debts. God never meant for there to be poor people anywhere in the nation.   By including these instructions, Moshe was tying together how doing what the Torah instructs promotes blessing in all of society, for everyone.

 I get the feeling that after hearing this set of talks by Moshe, the prevailing attitude was an enthusiastic “Yala, kadimah” (Modern Hebrew for “let’s get up and go”). Moshe instilled confidence in God by his words. And we are told that that entire younger generation did indeed keep the Torah as they settled the Land: “Israel served Adonai throughout the lifetime of Joshua and of the elders who outlived him and who had experienced everything Adonai had done for Israel” (Joshua 24:31). 

Moshe is a master instructor, and that is what we see him doing in today’s parasha. We would do well to pay attention today to the messages found in our still-precious Torah. 

Unless otherwise noted, Scripture citations are the author’s translation based on the NIV.

Our Heels or Our Hearts?

Parashat Ekev, Deuteronomy 7:12-11:25                                                                     

Rabbi Dr. John Fischer, UMJC President

As frequently translated, Deuteronomy 7:12–13a reads: “If you pay attention to these laws and are careful to follow them, then the Lord your God will keep his covenant of love with you as he swore to your ancestors. He will love you and bless you.”

This text begins with the word “Ekev,” the title of this week’s parasha. Although often translated “if”—as it is here—this term is far richer than its usual translations. In fact, it is not even the normal Hebrew word for “if”; that term is im. Actually, ekev is much better translated “because” (as per Ramban) or “when.” The idea then appears to be an encouragement, namely, that the people (we) will in fact follow God’s instructions and reap the benefits God has committed himself to lavishing on us. Moreover, according to several rabbinic commentators (Saadyah Gaon, Ibn Ezra, and Onkelos) there is a suggestion or connotation of reward inherent in the wording here. So the thought in our text more fully is: “Here’s the reward when(ever) you pay attention to these guidelines.” Later, in chapter 28, this idea is reinforced when Moses lists the many blessings God will rain down on his people whenever they follow him.

And, in our parasha, the rewards are great as well! “He will love you and bless you.” Interestingly, these verses sound almost identical to Yeshua’s statements in John 14:21: “Whoever has my commands and obeys them is the one who loves me. The person who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I too will love them and show myself to them.” Certainly this is the ultimate in “blessing.” In fact, there’s a strong likelihood that Yeshua is referring to Ekev at this point.

There is a further dimension to the term ekev; it also means “heel.” On the significance of this meaning, the Artscroll Chumash perceptively notes:

Midrashically, the word “ekev” . . . alludes to the sort of commandments that people may regard as relatively unimportant, so they tend figuratively to “tread on them with their heels.” Thus, the Torah assures Israel that if they are careful to observe even these neglected commandments, they can be certain that God will reward them.

This, too, sounds just like Yeshua, as he reminded us:

Anyone who breaks one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever practices theses commands will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. (Matt 5:19)

God wants us to be very careful to follow him fully, even in the least of matters.

Then, there is an interesting connection of our parasha with Jacob. Ekev (ayin-qof-vav) is also part of Jacob’s name. His name more accurately means “May he (God) be at your heels,” as in your “defending rear guard.” His name and its meaning are alluded to in a strategic text found in Isaiah 52:12: “For the Lord God will go before you, the God of Israel will be your rear guard (i.e. your ‘Jacob’).” This verse immediately precedes the introduction to the classic text of Isaiah 53, which unveils the ultimate way in which God went before Jacob (and his descendents) and protected us! It is the core of the blessings God showered on Jacob the man and Jacob the people. And, if the Jacob story is properly understood, Jacob (the ish tam or “complete person” of Gen 25:27) serves as the pattern of the kind of God-expected lifestyle described in our parasha; he is faithful to God (Heb 11:21).  

But there’s more in our text, which can be translated, “God will safeguard (rather than ‘keep’) his covenant of love with you” (Deut 7:12). The Hebrew translated “keep” is the word (shamar) used to describe the watchmen or guards on the ancient city walls, or, later in history, the sentries protecting Israel’s early kibbutzim. They were responsible to be alert and to keep the city’s inhabitants safe. That is precisely how God will watch over the covenant he made with our ancestors (and with us), alertly and faithfully, and lovingly. In fact, the covenant itself is characterized by and described as a “covenant of love,” a covenant of deep, abiding love as the Hebrew hesed (profound, faithful love) indicates. And, our responsibility is similar, since the same Hebrew term (shamar) is used for our response to the covenant (“careful to follow”). We must alertly and lovingly treasure God’s guidelines. As one response at the presentation of the Torah during Shabbat services puts it: “The ark now unveils its treasure. . . . The Torah stands there in all its richness . . .” (Siddur for Messianic Jews, emphasis added).

Notably, the covenant found in our passage is the very one God made with our ancestors at Mt. Sinai, and it is called a “covenant of love” (not law!). Hesed is a very strong word used to describe God’s unlimited graciousness, overflowing compassion, and unconditional commitment to us. If we truly realize that God’s covenant with us at Sinai is a covenant of love, we should be even more anxious and eager to carefully safeguard and gratefully follow it.

One further thought, in the Torah scroll itself the passage in this week’s parasha is directly adjacent to the text of the Shema. It even begins with tishm’un (“pay attention”), which contains the same letters as shema. The implication seems pretty clear. If I’m really sincere about the Lord being my God, the only one whom I will serve—if I’m serious about loving him with my whole heart, strength, and life—I will, then, more carefully, enthusiastically, and gratefully follow all his instructions in the Torah.

So, we do need to be far more careful to treasure and follow God’s guidelines in the Torah because we love him. And, he guarantees that the reward will be great!

All Scripture references are NIV.

The Groan of Redemption

Thoughts on Tisha B’Av from Jerusalem

Dr. David Friedman, UMJC rabbi

Director, Bet Midrash Lev Zion

Tisha B’Av is upon us—the ninth day of the month of Av, commemorating the destruction of the Holy Temple. While I don’t relish a day of pain and sadness, performing a good cleansing tshuvah (repentance) is always in order. Being honest, however, the prevailing emotion I experience on Tisha B’Av is indeed one of pain. 

I hurt for my nation. I hurt that we as a nation turn to God on a couple days of the year like Tisha B’Av, but find it difficult to do so on many of the others. We sit in humbleness on Tisha B’Av when we recite the Book of Lamentations. But as abortion, hatred, slander, our international enemies, and now disease harass our very existence as a country, we do not call upon God as a nation to help us. How strange! How sad. We have our box that we put him in; he goes in there on Tisha B’Av. We call on him on that day, but then. . . . I hurt when half of our population views God as far removed from us, and does not consider him as any part of their lives. His people, his covenant people, adrift in a sea of relativity, of humanism, and of factions that are among us.

I hurt when many of our people who do want to keep Torah and be faithful to God, keep Torah in such a way as to alienate other Jews; there is sometimes a harshness, a nastiness, and a hardness among such persons.   

On Tisha B’Av, I can only imagine how the Almighty himself must feel about all of us in his beloved land. Heartbroken? Yes, and yet full of the most incredible hope, because he knows the future. So Tisha B’Av is about failure, but it also encompasses hope. And in the words of a famous prophet, we Jews are “prisoners of hope” (Zechariah 9:12).  

Rabbi David Geffen of modern-day Israel wrote: “Tisha B’Av is always about loss and hope.” Regarding this year, Tisha B’Av 5780, he added: “This year there is an emotion never felt before. Our deep mourning on Tisha B’Av in the soil of suffering is the prelude to our hopes for a better world.” 

When I immigrated here some 40 years ago, we knew all the others who believed in Messiah like we did. There weren’t many of us; we could all meet in one facility at the same time. Today? Today I constantly hear of new congregations or home groups; I constantly hear of new individual Messianic Jews. Something has been afoot here that carries the mark of God’s work over these years. And that is encouraging. He will do what he will do in spite of us, who can only see through a smudged up mirror:  

Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely. (1 Cor 13:12 NLT)

Maybe these feelings that I have this Tisha B’Av are part of the pains that Rav Shaul mentions in Romans 8:22: “We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.” 

I groan on Tisha B’Av. I groan for the nation of Israel to be what we were created to be. And we will get there. I groan on Tisha B’Av for the nation of Israel to be the society that we have been called to be: full of love, justice, in pursuit of truth, and shining God’s light to the world. And we will get there, too. I groan while I stand at the banks of the Jordan River, waiting to enter the Land of Promise and to live as our holy Torah instructs us to live (to use images from our parasha of this past week).

Tisha B’Av this year feels like one big groan. But it’s a redemptive groan. It comes from the kishkes (Yiddish for “gut level”). Perhaps it’s as the prophet Zechariah pictures. Everyone in Jerusalem is standing at Messiah’s future appearance in the Holy City:

Then I will pour on the House of David and on the residents of Jerusalem the spirit of favor and of comforting mercy. So they will look on me, the one whom they stabbed through, and mourn for him, according to the mourning rites for individuals, with bitterness concerning him like bitterness over a first born. (12:10, my translation)

Zechariah envisions us all crying, groaning, weeping, wailing, as we do on Tisha B’Av. But this time the cries will be different, as they will directly precede the most redemptive period in the history of Israel, may that day come soon. This series of lamentations will lead to our national destiny. 

Living in Israel is an exercise in patience, in endurance, and in bearing a certain amount of Tisha B’Av-like pain every day. When I board a bus here, which I often do, I look at every person who boards. I cannot help but to offer a prayer on each one’s behalf, that they would come to know Messiah, that they would be spared the pain and death that so many people would like us to experience again, Tisha B’Av style. That’s not easy to do: the bus moves fast and people get on and off. On the other hand, it’s nice that people can and do pray openly in buses in Israel, so I can do this and not look like a crazy man.

When some people talk about future events in Israel, they talk about how many dead Jews there will be; they talk about the coming partial destruction that awaits Jerusalem and modern-day Israel. To such persons, we are numbers in their theology. My neighbor with five children, my friend down the street, my former student, my former player (I was a   coach here for over 20 years), my son’s friends, my son’s classmates, my grandchildren’s friends and playmates . . . we are Israel.  

We are those who get assigned the task of dying and suffering in the previously mentioned theology; we are the numbers that get thrown around (not to worry, I don’t necessarily hold to any such theology, but that’s another discussion for another time). Hearing such talk pains me. And the reality of our future suffering, be it mild or harsh, be it long or short in duration, makes me groan, too. 

Tisha B’Av can spark our minds about our future redemption. Otherwise, it is about mourning events and dates that we cannot ever change or improve upon; it goes nowhere. “Return to your fortress, you prisoners of hope; even now I announce that I will restore twice as much to you” (Zech 9:12). 

That hope captures us, indeed; the hope that all Israel will see our true identity as a people, understand who our God really is, and who our Messiah is. And that hope, “does not make us ashamed” (Rom 5:5). Zechariah pictures the Ninth of Av in the future as a day when Israel will rejoice! “So declares Adonai of the Heavenly Armies, ‘the fast of the fourth (month), fifth (month), and the seventh (month) and tenth (month), will be for rejoicing and joy’” (Zech 8:19, my translation). 

Medieval commentator Rashi identifies the fast of the fifth month as Tisha B’Av. In the future, when Israel takes her rightful role as God’s priestly nation and his holy people, as his international servants and emissaries, when Messiah rules from Jerusalem, we will experience Tisha B’Av like never before . . . with smiles on our faces. There will be happiness in our hearts. And I will not ever have to pray for the safety of my fellow bus travelers again. 

Repeat That

Parashat Devarim, Deuteronomy 1:1–3:22

Rabbi Aaron Allsbrook, Ohev Yisrael, Springfield, VA

Many of us who are parents know that we have to repeat things a lot. This is summed up well in the all-too-familiar question, “How many times have I told you that?!” It seems like every time you say it is the first time you’re saying it. It can become very frustrating and make you feel like your children aren’t listening. Then there’s the follow up question, “How many times do I have to say this until you get it?!”

Well, the fact of the matter is, we have to say things a lot, and we have to keep saying them, and this is not something new to us. This has been a struggle since the beginning of the Jewish people. Moses knew this very well, as did God (and still does). The very book we begin this week is called—in the transliteration of its Greek name—Deuteronomy, meaning, “repetition of the Torah.” Moses gives a holistic recall of all that Israel has endured from leaving Egypt to standing at the threshold of the land of Canaan, the land of promise. He repeats what they’ve been through and what they’ve been taught, so that when they do enter, they will know how they got there, who got them there, and how they’re to live once they’re in there. He repeats all of it because it’s really important.

The fact is that we all repeat things that are really important. Think of actors or musicians: how many times must they repeat their lines or their music so they not only know them by heart, but know what they mean, how to interpret them, how to make them their own? Repetition is a good thing, a necessary thing. Repetition can also offer security, solidity, confidence. How many times must an athlete perform certain movements, certain plays—the fundamentals? John Wooden, the famed UCLA basketball coach, said, “I believe in learning by repetition to the point that everything becomes automatic.” He certainly knew what he was talking about. He did win ten NCAA championships along with boasting of four perfect seasons. Repetition is a good thing.

What happens if we don’t repeat, if we ignore repetition? Well, let’s turn to the biblical text. Moses recalls to the people how, when they came to Kadesh-Barnea, the people wanted to send in spies to check out the land they were about to inhabit. Moses had no problem with that, so he complied. When these spies came back, they reported just how big the people were, how big the cities were, even how big the fruit was! The people, however, did not respond well. Moses recalls,  

Yet you would not go up, but rebelled against the command of Adonai your God. In your tents you grumbled and said: “Because Adonai hates us, He has brought us out from the land of Egypt to hand us over to the Amorites, to destroy us! Where are we going? Our brothers have discouraged our hearts saying, ‘The people are greater and taller than we are! The cities are great and fortified up to the heavens! Besides, we have even seen the children of Anakim there!’” (Deut 1:26–28)

 Moses is frustrated and responds,

Then I said to you, “Don’t tremble or be afraid of them. Adonai your God, who goes before you, He Himself will fight for you—just as He did for you in Egypt before your own eyes, and in the wilderness, where you saw how Adonai your God carried you as a man carries his son, everywhere you went until you came to this place.” Yet for all this you did not trust in Adonai your God—the One who goes before you on the way to scout out a place for you to camp and to show you the way you should go, in fire by night and in the cloud by day. (Deut 1:29–33)

In other words, he said to them, “Had you repeated to yourself what God has already done for us, you would know that this is not going to be a problem!” The people needed some repetition in their lives.

Moses recalls when Israel was about to engage in war against King Og of Bashan. This guy was huge, even bigger than Goliath! In the natural, the people surely had something to fear. Through repetition, however, God encouraged the people through Moses, “Do not fear him, for I have handed him over and all his people and his land. You will do to him as you did to Sihon king of the Amorites, who lived in Heshbon” (Deut 3:2). King Sihon was no joke, and King Og was something even greater, yet God had proved that, through him, the people could overcome.

Now, standing at the River Jordan, ready to enter the land of promise for which they’ve endured 40 years in the wilderness, the people hear Moses repeat to Joshua virtually the same thing God had said to him: “Your eyes have seen all that Adonai your God has done to these two kings. Adonai will do the same to all the kingdoms you are about to cross into. You must not fear them, for it is Adonai your God who fights for you” (Deut 3:21–22). Moses learned the lesson of repetition and taught it to Joshua. This empowered Joshua in faith to overcome an enemy that once frightened an entire nation.

The fact of the matter is that we all need repetition. We constantly need to be reminded me of what God has done, which is a lot! We live in a world where everything is transient, everything is changing; old is bad, new is good. While innovation and change have their value, the historical faithfulness of God is what anchors us in the storm.

We certainly do live in a tumultuous time, so it is incumbent upon us to repeat to ourselves what God has done to our people, what he has done for us as individuals, and how he took his Son out of the grave, which brings us to the ultimate statement of Messiah we need to repeat, “In the world [we] will have trouble, but take heart! I have overcome the world!” (John 16:33). Just as God encouraged Moses and Joshua by repeating what he had done to kings greater than they, Yeshua encourages us that he has indeed overcome all things on this earth; therefore, we too can overcome. I’ll repeat that, he overcame, so we can overcome!         

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