Are You Zealous or Jealous?

Parashat Pinchas, Numbers 25:10–29:40

Suzy Linett, Devar Shalom, Ontario, CA

When I was young, I had a conversation with my mother that went something like this:

Me: Do we believe in Jesus?

Mother: No

Me: Do we believe in Santa Claus?

Mother: No

Me: Do we believe in the Easter Bunny?

Mother: No

Me (frustrated): Well, do we at least believe in snowmen?

Raised in a Jewish home, I knew about the holidays of my people. Of course, as a child, Hanukkah was my favorite. Yet my gentile friends seemed to have so much more fun. I didn’t want to learn about their religion, but I certainly wanted the regalia of the outward observance, including Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.

Our parasha this week, Pinchas, reminds me of that exchange so long ago. The Israelites were poised to enter the Promised Land. Forty years of travel due to their rebellion were drawing to an end. The target was in sight. Yet, they were jealous of the bells and whistles of the pagan worship of Baal Peor. This god was worshiped through vulgarity and obscene acts of depravity. Adonai required obedience to a moral code. Surely the Midianites had it better!

The Israelites descended into the realm of immorality until, in last week’s parasha, Zimri, the leader of the tribe of Simeon, openly engaged in sexually deviant behavior (public sexual activity of that nature is deviant) in front of the Tent of Meeting – immediately before the place of meeting with Adonai. The woman, named Cozbi, was of the Midianites. Her name means “liar” or “sliding away.” She enticed Zimri to slide away from obedience to the Lord to openly degenerate behavior. The Lord’s anger resulted in a plague during which 24,000 Israelites died. As last week’s parasha concluded, Phinehas speared through both of them while they were engaged in their action. The plague ended immediately.

As this week’s portion begins, Phinehas, the gradson of Aaron and son of Eleazar the current high priest, is rewarded by Adonai.

Then Adonai spoke to Moses saying, “Phinehas son of Eleazar son of Aaron the kohen has turned away My anger from Bnei-Yisrael because he was very zealous for Me among them, so that I did not put an end to Bnei-Yisrael in My zeal. So now say: ‘See, I am making with him a covenant of shalom! It will be for him and his descendants after him a covenant of an everlasting priesthood—because he was zealous for his God and atoned for Bnei-Yisrael.’” (Num 25:10–13)

Phinehas was zealous, not jealous. He knew the Lord, and knew that strict adherence to his rules was the only correct way to live. He was zealous for the Lord, not jealous of the lifestyle of the pagan nations.

A new census is taken following this incident. The Israelites 20 and older were counted from each of the tribes who would receive a land inheritance. The older generation, counted previously, had died during the wilderness journey. This census would determine how much land each tribe would receive. The distribution would be by lot as to the location, with the size based on the number of families headed by men. Following the completion of the census, five daughters of Zelophehad of the tribe of Manasseh went before Moses to ask what would become of them. Their father had died in the wilderness, but it was noted that he was not part of the rebellion of Korah from the parasha three weeks ago. These daughters had no husbands, nor did they have any brothers. Moses approached Adonai, who told him:

The daughters of Zelophehad are right in saying you should give them property by inheritance among their father’s relatives. You are to turn over the inheritance of their father to them. Furthermore, you are to speak to Bnei-Yisrael saying: If a man dies without a son, you are to transfer his inheritance to his daughter. If he has no daughter, you are to give his inheritance to his brothers.  If he has no brothers, you are to give it to his father’s brothers. If his father had no brothers, you are to give it to the nearest relative in his family that he might possess it. This is to be a legal statute for Bnei-Yisrael, just as Adonai commanded to Moses. (Num 27:7–11)

This was significant not only because it provided for these women, but also because it was a complete change, a 180-degree turn, from the Midianite use of women for debauchery. Women were to be respected and an inheritance was to be provided if there was no one to care for them. Groundwork for the kinsmen-redeemer statute was laid, which would become fundamental in the story of Ruth and the genealogy of the Messiah. Zealous, but not jealous, the women received all for which they had asked. They pled their case before Moses, knowing he would ask the Lord for direction. They did not try to grab, outwit, or con anyone to obtain the property, nor did they ask for any additional property out of jealousy for those with sons or brothers. Cozbi, by enticing Zimri, was used by the Midianites to bring women, and Israel, down. These sisters, by reaching out to the Lord through Moses, raised women up in status and elevated Israel to be one of the first to give inheritance rights to women without dependance upon men.

After all he had done, Moses was led to the top of a mountain to look at the Promised Land. Due to his disobedience, he would die without entering it. Yet, the Lord in His mercy allowed him to see it (27:12–14). Another man, Joshua, was appointed to lead the nation. Joshua had not rebelled; he had not succumbed to jealousy of the pagan tribes. He served the Lord and he served Moses with zealous obedience, giving a good report when sent to check out the land, and demonstrating faith that the Lord would give His people victory (27:15–23). After this, the Lord commanded Moses to provide a review of the moadim, His appointed times (28:1–29:40). The people had these times as specific appointments. They were to be on their calendars. They were to arrive on time, and show up for these dates. In today’s world, these dates would be on their phones, computers, social media and be of prime importance. The people were to be zealous for these appointments.

The Lord asks each of us to be zealous for Him. We are not to become ensnared by the customs and practices of other religions or of the world. We are to be zealous for His Word and instruction, not jealous of the enticing displays of sin in today’s society. We are to have the zeal of Phinehas and cast sin out of our lives. We are to be counted in the census of those who choose to follow Him and live for Him until we arrive and receive our inheritance in the New Jerusalem. We are to accept our inheritances, male and female, without comparison or dissatisfaction. We are to meet with Adonai at His appointments and in our hearts. Be zealous, not jealous.

Scripture references are from the TLV

Seeking Goodness Is Seeking Truth

Parashat Balak, Numbers 22:2–24:13

Dave Nichol, Ruach Israel, Needham, MA

Recently at dinnertime, as the family sat around the table, the question came up, “Why do parents think more highly of their own children than others? Does that reflect bias?” And, the implication, “If so, is that bias . . . ok?” 

As a dad, I naturally jumped at the opportunity to wax theoretical as long as my kids would listen, but aware that I only had about fourteen seconds, I also tried to be concise. My answer (doubtless since-forgotten) was that it is natural, healthy, and even truthful for parents to have this kind of bias for their children.

I tried to explain it so that a nine-year-old would at least give me a couple sentences before tuning out: parents have a front-row seat to all the awesomeness of these small humans they are entrusted with. If every person is endlessly, mysteriously, profoundly beautiful, parents are often the ones who have the best opportunity to see it up close. This is as it should be: everyone should have a cheerleader or two! A person—the very image of God manifest—should not be hidden under a basket, but have someone to appreciate them. 

After all, if the Mona Lisa is in a forest with no one to see it, it may still be beautiful, but it’s a shame. Similarly a human being, each of whom is a treasure of infinite worth and wholly unique, should be loved and appreciated accordingly. This is why community—family in particular—is so important. 

 *  *  *

In this week’s parasha, Balaam, a kind of freelance prophet, is retained by Balak king of Moab to curse the Israelites as they travel to Canaan. Balaam may be a pagan prophet selling his skills to the highest bidder, but he can’t just curse or bless apart from God’s involvement. So, intending to curse, he pronounces blessing on the Israelites not once, but four times. Intending to be a tool for Israel’s destruction (for a nice stipend), he finds himself a herald of Israel’s ascendance.  

The story is funny on many levels, but it’s not clear how we are to understand Balaam. Is he a buffoon whose attack on Israel backfires? Some kind of evil sorcerer who is out to get the Jews? How is he even a real prophet? 

One way to make sense of him from a literary perspective is as a foil for Abraham. Both are prophets from Mesopotamia (22:5) who have some kind of relationship with God despite coming from a pagan people. The Sfat Emet (R. Yehudah Leib Alter of Ger, Poland 1847–1905), however, identifies the contrast that the Torah may be accentuating:

The Mishnah says that whoever possesses the three characteristics of a good eye, a lowly spirit, and a humble soul is a disciple of our father Abraham, while one who has the three opposite characteristics is a disciple of wicked Balaam (Avot 5:19). Our sages here reveal to us that Balaam was the precise opposite of righteous Abraham. 

This fits with their comment on the verse, “What may I curse that God has not cursed?” (Num 23:8). This wicked man sought out the precise moment of divine wrath, of which it is said: “the Lord is wrathful each day” (Psa 7:12). But this wrath lasts only for a moment, since it also says: “The compassion of God is all day long . . .” (Psa 52:3). The entire goal of the wicked is to find that [moment of] wrath.

The righteous, by contrast, seek out the good will of Heaven. “As for me, my prayer is at a time of goodwill” (Psa 69:14).

The Sfat Emet alludes to a tradition (mentioned by Rashi on Num 23:8) that the essence of Balaam’s abilities was knowing the moment when God is angry, and leveraging that knowledge to secure curses upon others. Because God’s wrath is so infrequent compared to his compassion, this is actually quite a skill! The prototypical Abraham story, on the other hand, is when he enjoins God to spare Sodom if there are righteous people living in it. 

The symmetry is remarkable: Balaam keeps moving to different mountaintops to get a different view of Israel, seeking out an angle from which Israel offends God (e.g. Num 23:27–29). Conversely, Abraham repeatedly raises the possibility that there may be some righteous souls in Sodom, haggling until God agrees that ten righteous people is enough to spare it. Where Balaam seeks out the negative angle, Abraham manages to find the positive.

What is striking, however, is that the people described by Balaam’s words—the words of one whose “eye has been opened,” who hears God’s speech (24:3–4)—doesn’t quite match the quarrelsome, complaining people from the last several parashiot. God is not “capricious” or prone to changing his mind (23:19), but is this vision from God even . . . truthful?

 *  *  *

We can find a recipe for becoming “disciples of Abraham” in the interpersonal realm by looking at another passage in Mishnah Avot (1:6) where R. Joshua Ben Perachia enjoins us to judge everyone “with the scale weighted in their favor.” At face value this seems ironic at best: what’s the point of “judging” if you’re going to manipulate the scales? Doesn’t integrity matter? What about truth?

The sages have much to say on the importance of speaking truth, and they don’t always come down on the side of naively blabbing what we believe to be true in the name of “integrity.” But I see this more as an expression of humility: recognizing our own limitations in knowing and judging truth. What in fact devalues truth is to imagine that we have tamed its complexities and are best positioned to be its arbiter. 

And thus Joshua b. Perachia’s enjoiner to give others the benefit of the doubt, perhaps even radically. If there was a way Yeshua was radical in interpersonal relationships, it was in how he gave people chances, and saw them as whole people regardless of their past (or current) failings. Virtually his last words before dying were giving the benefit of the doubt (“they know not what they do”) to people who were literally in the process of killing him. Should we not follow suit and give the benefit of the doubt to others, even to a radical degree?

I don’t advise putting yourself in dangerous situations or letting yourself be taken advantage of. But in situations where we have little at stake, we should be aware how much choice we have in how we perceive others. With a little awareness and effort, we can choose a different angle to see them, consider their perspective’s merits, and think about how we might act if our situation were different. Most likely the only thing that holds us back will be our fear of what truths we might uncover about ourselves.

Balaam sought angles that made our ancestors look bad, but he underestimated God’s love for his people. This love is like—or better, the model for—the love of a parent for their child. As such it is not easily taken advantage of. Certainly no one knows a child’s foibles better than a parent, and yet . . . why should the flaws outweigh the beauty and magnificence of a human soul? Who can say a person’s value is significantly diminished because their weaknesses differ from our own, or bother us more?

Balaam calls himself one whose eyes are open (24:3–4), and certainly we seek to have open eyes. Yeshua teaches, however, that the eye is the lamp of the body, and that our eyes should not be simply open, but good (Matt 6:22). His dying words make sense if seen in this light, as the kind of thing a parent would say.

And so, let us become disciples of Abraham and imitators of Yeshua. That is to say, lovers of—and cheerleaders for—our neighbor, mindful of the deepest truth: that in all their imperfections, each person remains an endlessly beautiful reflection of their Creator. 

The Beauty of the Red Heifer

Parashat Chukat, Numbers 19:1–22:1

Barri Cae Seif, Sar Shalom Congregation, Dallas

Through the death of one perfect red heifer, the unclean receives purification. As we take a look at this passage in Numbers 19, let us ponder that statement.

This is the statute of the Torah which Adonai commanded saying: Speak to Bnei-Yisrael that they bring to you a flawless red heifer on which there is no blemish, and on which has never been a yoke. Give her to Eleazar the kohen. He will take her outside the camp and slaughter her in his presence.

 While watching, he is to burn the heifer, her hide, flesh, blood and refuse. The kohen is to take some cedar wood, hyssop and scarlet wool, and cast them into the midst of the burning heifer.

Afterward, the kohen is to wash his clothes and bathe his flesh with the water, and afterward he may come back into the camp. Still the kohen will be unclean until evening.  Also the one burning it is to wash his clothes and bathe his flesh with the water, and he will be unclean until evening.

 A clean man is to gather up the ashes of the heifer and put them in a clean place outside the camp. They are to be for the community of Bnei-Yisrael to use as water of purification from sin. (Num 19:1–10)

Death has a way of blending in with life. My first experience with death was when my father’s mother, my bubbie, died. It was as if there was a shadow cast over our home. There are rituals to accompany death and mourning in Judaism. I do not remember my father covering the mirrors, but I do remember him sitting close to the ground; he was unshaven. God gives us directives when we are called to deal with death.

Such is the content for this week’s passage, Chukat. God required a strange recipe for the priests who would at times touch dead things. Provision had to be made in order to sanctify themselves to become clean again.

The red heifer was a rarity and valuable. The red heifer was a limited edition. Looking for this animal is like looking for a needle in a haystack. The existence of a red heifer that conforms with all of the extreme requirements imposed by halakha is a biological anomaly. The cow had to be entirely of one color. The hair of the cow had to be absolutely straight. Not even a blanket could be placed upon this cow. The cow was never to be ridden. The requirements noted illustrate the principle of chok, or biblical law, for which there is no apparent logic.

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, of blessed memory, noted:

The command of the parah adumah, the Red Heifer, with which our parsha begins, is known as the hardest of the mitzvot to understand. The opening words, zot chukat ha-Torah, are taken to mean, this is the supreme example of a chok in the Torah, that is, a law whose logic is obscure, perhaps unfathomable. (https://rabbisacks.org/covenant-conversation/chukat/kohelet-tolstoy-and-the-red-heifer/)

 Rabbi J. H. Hertz adds:

This ordinance is the most mysterious rite in Scripture, the strange features of which are duly enumerated by the Rabbis. Thus, its aim was to purify the defiled, and yet it defiled all those who were in any way connected with the preparation of the ashes and the water a purification. ‘It purifies the impure, and at the same time renders impure the pure!’ (Hertz, The Pentateuch and Haftorahs, p. 652)

If by chance, a perfect red heifer was found, it had to be burned outside the camp and he who burned it was also unclean. Its ashes were used in the ritual purification in which water was also included. Three other elements were added: hyssop, cedar wood, and scarlet thread. Why these elements? It is because they were all used in the building of the sanctuary: the hyssop was used by the priests for sprinkling the blood; the cedar wood was used for the posts, and the scarlet thread was used for the construction of the curtains. Therefore, in mixing the sacred objects with the death of the heifer, death and life would be combined to bring forth cleansing and purification. This allowed the person to cross the bridge from unclean (tamei) back to clean (tahor).

In this ceremony, the cedar, hyssop, wool were burned along with the ashes of the heifer. The beauty of the red heifer was not in its life but in its death. It is more valuable in its death than it ever was in its life. In its death it changes forms. It does not cease its power, but it changes forms as it goes through a metamorphosis from the physical body to the ashes. This is the “chok” of which the late Rabbi Sacks spoke. It is a law whose logic is obscure and even unfathomable. It makes no sense.

Hebrews 9 notes:

But when Messiah appeared as Kohen Gadol of the good things that have now come, passing through the greater and more perfect Tent not made with hands (that is to say not of this creation), He entered into the Holies once for all—not by the blood of goats and calves but by His own blood, having obtained eternal redemption. For if the blood of goats and bulls and the ashes of a heifer sprinkling those who have been defiled sanctify for the cleansing of the flesh, how much more will the blood of Messiah—who through the eternal Spirit offered Himself without blemish to God—cleanse our conscience from dead works to serve the living God?

The red heifer teaches us about Yeshua. It helps us to understand the rarity of knowledge of him. The red heifer reminds us about the vicarious atonement of Yeshua that paves the way to life for us.

In conclusion, I ask myself, “What dead things do I have in my life?” I can’t cleave to dead things. What dead things do I think about? What is my past? What dead things do I keep visiting? Every time I touch these dead things, these past things, I diminish myself. Unforgiveness, envy and strife take away peace. If I touch these things, they defile me. I am not to cleave to anything that God told me not to touch.

Forget what is behind and press forward and upward.

Get rid of the dead to experience the fresh new move of God.

Our faith is purified as we go through fiery trials, when we are called to surrender our “lives” to El Chai, the Living God. We learn about God as we go through the fire.

We are to look forward and not behind; to look up and not down.

Rabbi Hertz’s words are exact: “It purifies the impure, and at the same time renders impure the pure!”

Yeshua purifies the impure; he renders the impure, pure!

To know Yeshua is a blessing. The Good News, the Besorah, is hidden from the world, but revealed to us. Many cannot see this, but God has allowed us to see who Yeshua is. We give thanks for the personal knowledge of knowing Him! This is the beauty of the Red Heifer.

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

You Say You Want a Revolution?

Parashat Korach, Numbers 16:1–18:32

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

Do you ever have – as one children’s book would describe it – a “terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day”?  Well, Moses sure did. In fact, it must have seemed to him like he had fourteen thousand six hundred days like that, and most of them are recorded in the book of Bamidbar. This week’s parasha, Korach, records a mutiny of sorts that becomes the archetype for rebellion in Judaism, and could also have become the standard for a really bad day, but for the intervention of Hashem.

As Americans, we are generally comfortable challenging authority. In fact, this is a country birthed out of an act of rebellion. America is a culture where you can spray graffiti on the wall that reads “Challenge Authority,” and another person will cross it out, subsequently challenging your authority! So, when we hear of elected officials invoking executive privilege, we collectively get nervous. In general, there has been public distrust of governance in the last several years. In the parlance of the sixties, “Don’t trust the Man.”

And aren’t the Jews the original challengers of authority? Abraham smashed his father’s idols, Nathan pointed his finger at guilty King David, and Elijah made himself an overall nuisance to Ahab and Jezebel. So, why does the Torah take such a hard line against Korach and his cohorts?

According to the Talmud, “Any dispute which is for the sake of Heaven will in the end yield results, and any which is not for the sake of Heaven will in the end not yield results. What is a dispute for the sake of Heaven? This is the sort of dispute between Hillel and Shammai. And what is one which is not for the sake of Heaven? It is the dispute of Korach and all his party” (Avot 5:17).

Of Mice and Men

In other words, Korach did not have a legitimate grievance because all his complaints and consternation were rooted in ambition, greed, and a need for self-aggrandizement. Korach, a descendant of Levi and a cousin to Moses and Aaron, is upset because the sons of Aaron, not him and his sons, have been given the priestly duties and honors. But observe the clever and convoluted argument he puts forth. Korach challenges Moses, saying “all the community are holy, every one of them” rather than “all the community is holy,” thereby emphasizing individuality rather than the collective nature of Israel’s holiness. Korach is self-motivated, unlike Moses who endlessly sacrifices himself for the good of the community. Korach is cunning and manipulative, and the tone of the rebellion he incites is one of entitlement. On the surface, he sounds like a patriot, sounding the bell of democratic rule. The truth is that despite the many miracles that Hashem performed by the hand of Moses in the Sinai wilderness, Korach is seething with jealousy!

Korach’s cohorts aren’t much better! Dathan and Abiram just want to be fed. It was somebody else’s responsibility to provide for all their needs in precisely the fashion that they desired. They constantly complain about the poor provisions in the wilderness and romanticize the good old days in Egypt! Isn’t it amazing how selective their memories were? Perhaps Egypt was a land “flowing with milk and honey” as they ironically postulate, but certainly none of it was flowing their way. According to midrashic tradition, the children of Reuben never forgot they were the eldest tribe and felt entitled. Because Levi and Reuben marched together (Num 2:16–17; 10:18, 21), they were corrupted, feeling jealous of the Levites and their positions of privilege; they were able to commiserate with the disenfranchised sons of Levi! According to this tradition, Dathan and Abiram were the perfect patsies for Korach’s misguided efforts. Bad companions can truly lead us down very dark paths!

But what a difference havurot tsadikim (righteous friends) can make. On, the son of Peleth, another Reubenite, is mentioned at the outset of the rebellion (Num 16:1), only to disappear from the narrative thereafter. Midrash fills in the gaps of this brief storyline. According to aggadot (lore), On is saved by his wife, who reasoned, “What benefit is there in this rebellion? Either Moses remains our leader and you follow him, or Korach becomes leader and you follow him.'” This sentiment was later encapsulated in the cynical anthem of the 1960s by The Who, Won’t Get Fooled Again – “Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.”

I suppose Mrs. On knew that it would be relatively easy for Korach to gather his lieutenants, 250 in total from among the most influential of the people (16:2). By the time the showdown between Moses and the rebels occurred, a significant mob was following Korach’s leadership. Mobs are nothing new and are always too ready to listen to inflammatory rhetoric. Korach had his followers, Hitler had his followers, and even today angry demagogues incite anger, fanning the flames of jealousy and fear.

Compassionate Leadership

Korach’s grave mistake was to confuse equality with sameness. Moses’ actions prove that he and Korach are completely different kinds of leaders. Korach challenges authority – but how does Moses react? Faced with the most threatening internal strife of his entire leadership, Moses might well have responded with tremendous force and passion. Instead, he falls on his face in prayer. This is not a last resort for Moses but rather his normal mode of operation. In doing so, he honors Hashem. Moses is not concerned with his own honor, but rather the honor of the Holy One of Israel!

The God that Moses celebrates is El Rachum v’Chanun, the God of compassion and mercy. So, as a result, Moses reacts to the insurrection by repeatedly expressing concern for the rebels! Rather than punishing them immediately, he makes his best effort to try to avoid the inevitable. Over and over again, broken-hearted Moses pleads for the difficult people he leads. This is why Moses asks God to acquiesce and punish only the 250 leaders of the revolt rather than the fickle masses deserving of punishment. Moses only desires to put the incident behind and restore communal harmony. He is clearly a different kind of leader than Korach. Clearly, the issue is not whether government is inherently evil (that was Korach’s gig) but rather whether the government is divinely established, sensitive to God’s authority, and compassionate to the core.

Fast Forward

Does this have anything to say to us today? Ask yourself, do I have a victim mentality? Do you consider your life a product of swirling, whirling forces beyond your control? Are you filled with jealousy for others? Are you impatient like Korach, wanting everything now? Moses was taking our ancestors to the Promised Land, but they could not muster the patience to wait. Korach and his cohorts despised authority – do you? Do you secretly resent anyone who suggests another way to look at life, or those who are just different? Such people would never say they despise authority, but they never seem to find anyone who they can follow.

Life is a gift, not entitlement. And leadership is a gift as well. So, do you really want a revolution?

The God of Each of Us

Sh’lach Lecha, Numbers 13:1–15:41

Suzy Linett, Devar Shalom, Ontario, CA

Years ago, when I attended my confirmation class as a teenager, the conservative Rabbi taught that the reason Scripture refers to Adonai as the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob rather than simply “the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob” is due to the concept of progressive revelation.

Each generation of the patriarchs built upon the foundation of the previous ones. Although the rabbi was not a believer in Yeshua, it has occurred to me that he was exactly right. Abraham was told by the Lord to leave his father’s house and to leave the pagan worship of idols to follow the one true God. Isaac experienced a unique blend of obedience and mercy/grace from the Lord. He grew up in a home with a believing father, and so was raised in faith. Rarely is his faith discussed, including what he might have been thinking while Abraham bound him to the wood. Jacob struggled with God and with men, receiving the name Israel in Genesis 32:29. In verse 30, he asked the angel/man/theophany for his name, and received a blessing. Although the name of the spiritual being was not given, Jacob named the place Peniel (“face of God”) – because he had seen God face to face.

No matter how this is interpreted, we see a continuum of deeper and deeper interaction with Adonai. Today is no different. There is progressive revelation of who the Lord is and how we are to relate to him.

This week’s parasha begins with a command to Moses from the Lord. He is to send spies from each tribe to “investigate the land of Canaan” (Num 13:2). We are told these men were “princes” of their respective tribes (v.3) and they were sent from the “wilderness of Paran” until they reached Hebron (vs.3–21). They traveled a good distance from Paran and came back to give their report. Caleb and Joshua gave a good report and encouraged the people to move forward and take the Land. The remaining ten expressed fear and certainty that the Israelites would be defeated. The people grumbled, they rebelled, they threatened the leadership. The Lord appeared in his glory and Moses pleaded on behalf of the people to spare them. The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob was indeed the God of Moses as well, but the people had failed to truly make him their God. We know the story. The ten who gave a bad report died in a plague, and the Israelites were destined to complete 40 years before they entered the Land.

In the Maftir section of our parasha, Numbers 15:37–41, Adonai gives the commandment and instruction for the tzitzit which were to be on the borders of the garment. They also were found on the hem of Yeshua’s garment in Luke 8:44, bringing healing to a woman who had been ill for 12 years. Let’s look at this passage a bit more closely and in a greater context. The people had failed to recognize the sovereignty and power of the Lord to lead them in safety. There was a need for a constant visual reminder of the Lord’s presence, and to make him personal. Israel had been redeemed from slavery as a nation, as a people group, and Aaron had been installed as high priest. Despite all of this, the people were swayed by the bad report of the ten spies. This commandment was not limited to Aaron, nor even to the tribe of Levi. We are told each Israelite was to make “his own” tzitzit so that individually there would be recollection of the mitzvot, and of what the Lord had already done.

Corporate worship and study are valuable, but Adonai also requires individual worship and time with him. When the people looked at each other and saw the tzitzit, and the commanded special techelet color, they recognized national covering of God. When they looked at their individual tzitzit, each recognized individual, personal covering. While the English translation simply uses the word “blue” to define the color, the Hebrew word, techelet, actually means a lot more. It is a specific shade, a highly prized and difficult-to-produce color/shade.

Even the Talmud makes mention of techelet (Menachot 44a) as a critical color in service to Adonai. Why blue? Why this very expensive shade of blue? When times are tough, we are to look upon the tzitzit covering us and we are reminded that God covers us; we are reminded to look up to the blue heavens, and the special, difficult-to-produce, and valuable dye reminds us not only that Israel significant as a nation, but also by wearing our own tzitzit, each one of us individually has specific importance to our heavenly Father. We are reminded that as he keeps close to each one of us, we are to keep ourselves close to him – individually as well as nationally.

The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob, and the God of Suzy? No, I am not putting myself in the same class as the patriarchs, yet there is indeed progressive revelation of the nature of God, who he is, and what my relationship with him is to be. I see this pattern in my personal life and in the life of others. The pattern ranges from the earliest years of my life, of hearing the Bible stories as a toddler and upwards; from learning the Shema and beginning to understand that indeed here is a God, one God, who is real. It continued into my teenage years of hearing others speak of him, on to my college years of ignoring him, all prior to coming to faith. The progressive revelation continued on to my mid to late 20’s when I had a divine encounter that really was a culmination of progressive encounters; a building upon foundations provided by those who went before me, and of those who shared with me sequentially, revealing more and more.

Even in the last 43 years, since coming to faith, I have seen the progressive revelation as I continue on my own spiritual quest. Each of us has an individual itinerary within our growing movement. Just as the Israelites were led out of Egypt as a nation and embarked on a national course, each was to make his own tzitizit for individual treks within the corporate movement. So it is with us. The Messianic movement is one of progressive revelation and growth, yet within that movement, each of us is responsible for our own individual journey. As I give thanks to the  Lord for my own progress, I also thank him for each individual and group I have met along the way as they continue on their own journeys, corporately as part of congregations and within the greater Messianic community, and individually, continuing to develop a personal relationship and walk with him.

Indeed, he is the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob. He is the God of Moses, and may he be revealed as the God of each of you in a new way. Shabbat Shalom!

 Scripture references are from the TLV.

Spirit-Infused Torah

Parashat Beha’alot’cha, Numbers 8:1–12:16

Russ Resnik, UMJC Rabbinic Counsel                                                                                             

I spent my earliest days as a follower of Yeshua in the Charismatic-Pentecostal world, where I heard more than once the saying, “We’ve got to get out of the Book of Numbers and into the Book of Acts.” It was a good-natured way of saying that we needed to turn our attention away from counting attendance and offerings and onto the work of the Holy Spirit in our midst. Beyond that, though, it also reflected the old Letter vs Spirit paradigm that has plagued Christian theology for centuries. And, of course, its portrayal of the Book of Numbers is way off-base. Numbers has a lot to say about the Spirit of God, and it goes a long way toward resolving the supposed tension between Torah, or “Law,” and Spirit.

Parashat Beha’alot’cha provides a picture of Torah and Spirit dwelling together at peace.

First, it reminds us that the glory-cloud, the visible presence of God’s Spirit, was not only with the Israelites as they journeyed through the wilderness, but actively led them in every stage of the journey.

On the day the Tabernacle was erected, the cloud covered the Tabernacle. By evening until morning, the cloud above the Tent of Testimony had an appearance like fire. It was that way continually. The cloud covered it, and by night it appeared like fire. Whenever the cloud lifted up from above the Tent, then Bnei-Yisrael would set out, and at the place where the cloud settled, there Bnei-Yisrael would encamp. At the mouth of Adonai, Bnei-Yisrael would set out, and at the mouth of Adonai they would encamp. All the days that the cloud remained over the Tabernacle, they would remain in camp. (Num 9:15–18)

In this last verse the Israelites get their direction from “the mouth of Adonai,” and as they follow the cloud. Word and Spirit work together.

As Paul reminds us, “Our fathers were all under the cloud, and all passed through the sea, and all were immersed into Moses in the cloud and in the sea” (1 Cor 10:1–2). The cloud and the sea point to immersion by or in the Spirit (1 Cor 12:13; Mark 1:8, etc.) and immersion by or in water, and our fathers experienced both, at least in prototypical form, and they “all ate the same spiritual food, and all drank the same spiritual drink—for they were drinking from a spiritual rock that followed them, and the Rock was Messiah” (1 Cor 10:3–4). We don’t need to wait for the Book of Acts to get a healthy dose of the Spirit.

In this week’s parasha, after nearly a year at the foot of Mount Sinai, the cloud moves on and Israel finally begins its journey towards the Promised Land. But within a few days the people begin to complain, and keep on complaining even after the Lord sends fire upon them as chastisement. Moses hears all this kvetching and lodges a complaint of his own against Adonai: “Why have You brought trouble on Your servant? Haven’t I found favor in Your eyes—that You laid the burden of all these people on me? . . .  I am not able to carry all these people by myself! The load is too heavy for me!” (Num 11:11, 14).

In response, Adonai instructs Moses to gather seventy of the elders of Israel and stand with them at the Tent of Meeting. There, the Lord says, “I will take some of the Ruach that is on you and will place it on them. They will carry with you the burden of the people, so you will not be carrying it alone” (11:17). The Spirit comes to rest on the seventy and they speak as prophets. When two men who did not go out to the Tent of Meeting with Moses begin to prophesy in the camp, Joshua urges Moses to stop them. Moses replies, “Are you jealous on my behalf? If only Adonai would make all the people prophets! If only Adonai would put the Spirit on all of them!” (11:29).

Moses in this one statement manifests both spiritual greatness and profound prophetic insight. The two men may be prophesying in the wrong place or manner, but Moses recognizes that something greater is going on. With prophetic insight, he longs for the day when all Israel – not just the seventy elders – will receive the gift of the Spirit. As a midrash comments:

The Holy One, blessed be he, said: “In Olam Hazeh, this age, only a few individuals have prophesied, but in Olam Haba, the age to come, all Israel will be made prophets,” as it says, And it shall come to pass afterward, that I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men, etc. (Joel 3:1). (Numbers Rabbah 15:25)

Last week we celebrated Shavuot, the Time of the Giving of Our Torah, which is also the Time of the Outpouring of the Spirit foretold by Joel, and described in the Book of Acts, which my Pentecostal-Charismatic friends contrasted with the Book of Numbers. This outpouring of the Spirit is spectacular and awesome, and Peter delivers a sermon to explain what’s going on. Like the midrash above, he quotes Joel, telling the crowd that the resurrected Messiah has “poured out this—what you now see and hear” (Acts 2:33). The conclusion is inevitable: “Let the whole house of Israel know for certain that God has made Him—this Yeshua whom you had crucified—both Lord and Messiah!” (Acts 2:36).

Shavuot isn’t about the Torah only or about the promised Spirit only, and ultimately not even about Torah plus Spirit. Rather, for followers of Yeshua, Shavuot celebrates the Spirit-infused Torah, the fulfilment of Adonai’s promise to Israel:

I will give you a new heart. I will put a new spirit within you. I will remove the stony heart from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. 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 36:26–27)

Today we remain in Olam Hazeh, this age, but we taste the realities of the Age to Come through the gift of the Spirit, poured out by the risen Messiah—a gift that doesn’t set aside the teachings of Torah, but empowers us to walk in them. This reality of Spirit-infused Torah is, or should be, the distinctive mark of Messianic Judaism, a reality that lifts us beyond the supposed conflict between Law and Spirit, and into the living Torah of Messiah Yeshua.

If this Torah-Spirit fusion is, or should be, the distinctive mark of the Messianic Jewish community, how do we walk it out in real life? We actively seek—and gladly depend upon—the leading and presence of the Spirit, just as our ancestors depended on the glory-cloud to lead them in all their journeys. We listen for the voice of the Spirit as we read the weekly parasha or recite the daily prayers of the Siddur. We expect the Spirit to show up in our lives in fresh and unexpected ways, even as we remain rooted in God’s Word, knowing that the two dimensions are not at odds, but mutually reinforcing.

Moses longed for the day in which we are living: “If only Adonai would make all the people prophets! If only Adonai would put the Spirit on all of them!” Let’s say Amen to that as we walk daily in the Spirit-infused Torah of the risen Messiah.  

All Scripture references are from the TLV.

Bless is More

Parashat Naso, Numbers 4:21–7:89

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

This week’s parasha contains one of only two prescribed blessings in all of Torah, the Birkat Kohanim.  

Adonai bless you and keep you!
Adonai make His face to shine on you and be gracious to you!
Adonai turn His face toward you and grant you shalom! (Numbers 6:22–26 TLV) 

This blessing is so familiar to us; it is part of the morning shacharit, and is traditionally chanted by the Kohanim, descendants of the priestly line, on Yom Kippur. Parents also say it over children on Erev Shabbat. I find it so meaningful that at Congregation Shuvah Yisrael it is our custom to have a Kohen deliver this blessing every Shabbat at the end of mussaf.  

This blessing is a cleverly crafted gem, which becomes particularly evident when it’s studied in Hebrew. The blessing contains an increasing pattern of words on each line (three, five, seven) and an increasing pattern of both consonants (fifteen, twenty, twenty-five), and syllables (twelve, fourteen, sixteen). The very wording therefore creates a sense of meter, order, climax, and completion.  

What is ultimately apparent in the recitation of this blessing is that the Kohen serves an appointed and vital, yet limited role. He is not a magician generating magic, but a channel for blessing to pass through on the way from the Holy Blessing One to the Jewish people. For that reason, each line begins by mentioning God as the active agent, and the last line explicitly states the words of Hashem, “In this way they are to place My Name over Bnei-Yisrael, and so I will bless them” (Num 6:27). 

Interestingly the entire blessing is phrased in the singular, an unusual phenomenon in Torah, which generally speaks to Israel in communal language. So why this anomaly? The simplest answer is that Torah does not conceive of any one person to be holy in a way that is different from the holiness of any other human being. At the same time, the priestly blessing reminds us of the sanctity of all humanity, and the awesome otherness of the God of Israel. This is of course an answer that would satisfy the universalistic spirit of this age. It sounds great, but is it true? In fact, Torah makes a point of establishing unique roles not only for Israel as a whole, but within Israel. The entire book of Vayikra (Leviticus) establishes the role of the sons of Aaron as priests, as does this blessing itself. And the blessing follows the precise details of Nazarite dedication, a path to a greater exhibition of holy behavior and commitment to Hashem. Torah establishes specific leadership positions, and much of the book of Bemidbar exposes the folly of transgressing godly leadership. In fact, this very idea is expressed by the villainous Korach when he incites mutiny against Moses by querying, “Aren’t all of Israel holy?” Holy yes, but all the same . . . ? I don’t think so.  

I think there is a more plausible explanation, that it is not always possible or even wise to extend the same blessing to everyone uniformly. For the farmer, rain may be an anxiously awaited blessing, but for a beach port vacationer, not so much. Wealth, good looks, or extraordinary talent might be tremendous gifts for one person, yet a tremendous burden for another. The fact is that only the Designer of all creation and the Endower of all gifts and resources knows what blessing is most appropriate for whom. Therefore, he instructs the kohanim to bless the people in the singular; so that each person might receive the blessing that is most appropriate for him or her. 

To this effect Rashi comments on the first verse of the Birkat Kohanim, “May God bless you and safeguard you” (6:24), by saying that we will be blessed with wealth and talent and guarded from dangers. Though the order may seem incorrect, and an individual might need to be protected before he or she is blessed, not all dangers are physical and external. A person who is given much wealth, for instance, may find that the money is their downfall. The Kohen’s blessing asks, therefore, that we be blessed with much wealth and safeguarded against its evil effects. Isn’t this what Yeshua meant when he taught us to pray, “Grant us our daily bread and lead us not into temptation”? I often pray for my children that they should never want for that which they need, but never have so much that they would enter perdition as a result.  

The second section of the blessing refers to M’ohr Torah, the light or illumination of Torah. May God enlighten you with the wondrous wisdom of Torah. Having the blessing of prosperity, we can go beyond the elementary requirements of survival. 

Finally, the third part of the blessing might express Hashem’s unconditional capacity to forgive. Again, Rashi explains this prayer stating, “May He suppress His anger toward you.” This means that by His countenance being upon you, God will show each of His people special consideration even if they are sinful. Therefore, when the Holy Blessing One places His gentle gaze upon us, we can lift our heads even when we are unworthy. 

This blessing is more than an ancient link to our tradition; it is an ongoing instruction to rely upon the beneficence of God. On exhibit in the Israel Museum in Jerusalem are artifacts from the excavation of a burial plot from the end of the First Temple period.  Among the exhibit is a small thin silver plaque the size of a thumb. Inscribed on it in Hebrew is the Birkat Kohanim. An observant Jew wore the same prayer that we are blessed with each week some 2600 years ago! We are blessed with the same prayers that have been echoed through countless generations.  

Much in human history changes; our customs, styles and cultures swell and shift radically. But there are three constants:

1)      The human heart retains many of the same needs, urges, and concerns throughout time.

2)      The God of Israel has not changed or faltered despite our changing perceptions of the divine.

3)      The covenant with Israel is still the tie that binds all of humanity to the God who gives us His good name – the Greatest Blessing of All!

This commentary was originally posted June 2020.

With Brotherly Affection

Parashat Bamidbar, Number 1:1–4:20

Matt Absolon, Beth T’filah, Miramar, FL

And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying, “Bring the tribe of Levi near, and set them before Aaron the priest, that they may minister to him. They shall keep guard over him and over the whole congregation before the tent of meeting, as they minister at the tabernacle. They shall guard all the furnishings of the tent of meeting, and keep guard over the people of Israel as they minister at the tabernacle. And you shall give the Levites to Aaron and his sons; they are wholly given to him from among the people of Israel.” Numbers 3:5–9

In this week’s portion, we see the emergence of a symbiotic relationship between the house of Aaron and the rest of the tribe of Levi. With Aaron and his sons appointed to lead the priesthood as High Priests, the rest of the tribe of Levi is assigned the task of ministering to Aaron and his sons.

The translation of the Hebrew v’shertu / “they may minister” (3:6) is a good interpretation and, like so much in our native language, it evokes multiple layers in the mind’s eye. In particular, this reading suggests a subservient “to wait upon,” like that of a servant waiting upon his master, and in parallel “to serve” by way of strengthening or nourishment, as a nurse or doctor might strengthen and nourish their patients.

In one form, the server is subservient; in the other form, the server is ascendant.

One of the pitfalls common to leadership is the pride of self-reliance. While it is good for God’s people to be confident and self-assertive, it is just as critical that we remember that we need each other to fulfill the destiny of national salvation.

Returning to the passage, we see how this symbiotic relationship displayed Aaron’s responsibility as leader and as a consequence, his need to be ministered to by those around him. Likewise, also the priesthood had the right to expect leadership from Aaron and the corresponding responsibility for them to minister to Aaron and his sons.

To receive ministry is to encourage spiritual humility; it is a buffer against the spiritual pride of self-reliance. It encourages spiritual humility when we embrace the truth that even the strongest amongst us need to be ministered to. We must not lose sight that those who minister unto us, also need to be ministered unto.

There is a symbiotic relationship between the leader and their followers. As much as the followers look to the leader for strength, the leader must learn to find strength from those who are following him or her. Together in harmony and mutual submission, we strengthen each other.

We see this exemplified in the life of our Lord. Though Yeshua was the embodiment of the divine, yet he too needed to be ministered to in order to be strengthened and encouraged.

Then Yeshua said to him, “Be gone, Satan! For it is written, ‘You shall worship the Lord your God and him only shall you serve.’” Then the devil left him, and behold, angels came and were ministering to him. (Matt 4:10–11 )

Our Lord demonstrates to us that he is not immune to human frailty. He too needed to be ministered to. Although in this passage he received strength from angels, in later stories he will be ministered to by his many friends. Mary, Martha and Lazarus come to mind. We see as a matter of regular spiritual discipline that the Lord received ministry from both angels and those who followed him. Much as God resting on the Shabbat serves as an example to us to receive the Shabbat rest, so also Yeshua’s receiving of ministry serves as an example to us to receive ministry from our family of faith.

This is a word of encouragement to both our leaders and lay folk in our communities. To our leaders, do not fall into the trap of self-reliance. While we need our leaders to be strong, understand that in your times of frailty the strength of the community is imperative for your spiritual walk.

To our lay members, do not underestimate the power of a word of encouragement, or a kind mitzvah towards your leadership. As much as you need your leaders to show the way forward, the leaders also need you for moments of respite and recovery.

Our forefather Paul the apostle encourages us to behave towards one another in this way:

Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor. (Rom 12:9–10)

May the bonds of brotherly affection fill our communities as we learn to lean on one another. Shabbat shalom!

Scripture references are from the English Standard Version (ESV), adapted.

Our apologies: an audio version is not available this week.

Be an Agent of Hope

Parashat Bechukotai, Leviticus 26:3–27:34

Mary Haller, Tikvat Israel, Richmond, VA

Preparing this drash has taken me on a journey through my own faith walk. While processing the challenging part of this week’s reading known as the Tochechah (“Reproach” or “Rebuke,” Lev 26:14–43), I realized how prayerful self-examination holds the potential to lead us to a deeper connection with hope.

When we read through this portion we are initially made aware of the importance of obedience and how it has an effect on our future. In the Tochechah, we quickly learn how Israel’s failure to follow God’s laws and keep his commands has consequences. History tells us these consequences can be deadly. Thankfully, this dark section is immediately followed by a wonderful reminder of hope in 26:44-45.

Yet for all that, when they are in the land of their enemies, I will not reject them, nor will I hate them into utter destruction, and break My covenant with them, for I am Adonai their God. But for their sake I will remember the covenant of their ancestors, whom I brought out of the land of Egypt in the sight of the nations, that I might be their God. I am Adonai.

In my early walk of faith, life seemed simple—do good and be obedient and it will be okay. It didn’t take long for me, however, to realize life on earth is not at all simple. It was during that time I began to read scripture not just for face value, but to understand the underlying meaning. This shift initiated lessons that were challenging but valuable. It wasn’t too long before my prayers shifted from what I needed to prayers for understanding what my Creator desired of me.  I wanted to live out what he had designed me to do.

The day was May 25; the year was 2005. Memorial Day celebrations in the USA were just around the corner. The day was clear and the morning sun was shining brightly in the eastern sky, bringing with it a warmth that felt like a loving hug. I was sitting at my desk looking out the large window onto my peaceful street. Thoughts were flooding my head as I prepared my fingers to be the vehicle that brought my thoughts to the keyboard and into words. My thoughts of love, mercy, grace, and hope were then interrupted by the harsh clanging sound of the doorbell.

Answering the door that day changed my life forever. God’s lesson plan was nothing I could have predicted, and my only preparation was the life I had lived leading up to that day. My childhood, my choice to surrender my life to Messiah, and every moment led me to this time.

On the other side of my door were two young soldiers, one male and one female. They were in dress greens with maroon head covers. Let me explain: both my son and my son-in-law were serving in the military. The maroon head covers told me these two soldiers were attached to an airborne unit. Immediately my mind went to thoughts of my son, since his assignment was with the 82nd Airborne Unit. Confusion set in and I asked myself what could possibly have happened that would cause these soldiers to be at my door? It was as if my whole body was moving in slow motion, as if time had stopped.

The day suddenly took a sharp detour. One moment I was preparing a lesson on living a life filled with the hope we have in Messiah and the promises of blessings that are ours. The next moment the messengers were delivering their news. One soldier was a chaplain from Ft. Liberty (then known as Ft. Bragg) and the other was his driver. 

The message they were tasked to deliver was harsh. With it came a lesson for my entire family. Life has dark days, and we must choose how to proceed. The soldiers stood straight and tall asking repeatedly for my daughter. My thoughts were not of relief. I knew the message was dire and her future would be forever changed. 

The Army only sends soldiers to a family member’s door to deliver a death notification. Our son-in-law sacrificed his life that day carrying out a mission in Iraq. My heart was broken for my young daughter, and for my son-in-law’s family. Anger could have followed the brokenness that invaded my soul, and that anger could have slipped into hatred, utterly disabling me from providing loving support for my daughter.  

Thankfully, I was able to press on in love, extending grace and mercy, and being an agent of hope in this time of despair.

Throughout history, many people have been faced with dire circumstances. Elie Wiesel was clearly an agent of hope in a time when hope was scarce. He made many statements on the value and importance of hope, including this:

One must wager on the future. I believe it is possible, in spite of everything, to believe in friendship in a world without friendship, and even to believe in God in a world where there has been an eclipse of God’s face. . . . We must not give in to cynicism. To save the life of a single child, no effort is too much. . . . To defeat injustice and misfortune, if only for one instant for a single victim, is to invent a new reason to hope. 

It is now nineteen years since we lost our son-in-law, and my choice to hold on to hope has birthed blessings. The dark night dissipated; the sun eventually rose brightly bringing a new day.  

Ha Tikvah (the hope) will only fade if we allow it to. I encourage you to be an agent of hope. Your life will dispel the darkness.                            

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

Sooner or Later, Jubilee is Coming

Parashat Behar, Leviticus 25:1–26:2

Russ Resnik, UMJC Rabbinic Counsel

Have you ever wished that you could start over? That you could be, as in the words of Dylan’s immortal song, “forever young”—going back to your earliest years of life, able to erase all your mistakes, cancel all your debts, and undo all your sins? In the dark time we’re living through right now, we might be especially drawn to the idea of a new, fresh beginning.

Such thinking may sound naïve and wishful, but it was a reality in the Torah legislation of the Jubilee recounted in Parashat Behar. From one Jubilee to the next, the Israelites counted forty-nine years—seven sevens of years. Seven, the number of perfection, was itself perfected. Then came the fiftieth year, in which Moses instructed the people to “proclaim liberty throughout all the land,” so that “you shall return, each man to his holding and you shall return each man to his family” (25:10). The liberty of Jubilee restores to its original owners any land holding that had been sold, and to his family any Israelite who had sold himself into slavery. Jubilee returns Israel to the original order that the Lord intended for it, the order that he will restore forever in the age to come. Thus, it is a great enactment, both of justice and of the prophetic future.

The count of forty-nine years between one Jubilee and the next reminds us of the count of forty-nine days leading up to Shavuot, the Counting of the Omer, as outlined in our previous parasha (Lev 23:15–21), in which we’re currently engaged. There we see that Shavuot, like all of the festivals, anticipates the conditions of the age to come. The laws of Shavuot provide a share of the harvest to all who live in Israel, anticipating the restored justice of the age to come.

Even more than Shavuot and the rest of the festivals of Leviticus 23, Jubilee provides a foretaste of “the day that will be all Shabbat, and rest for everlasting life” (Soncino Talmud, Tamid 33b).

As the year of restoration in Israel, Jubilee shapes the messianic hope of restoration described in the Scriptures and beyond. Thus, Ezekiel employs Jubilee language to rebuke the false shepherds of Israel. They have not done for Israel what the Jubilee is designed to do: “The weak you have not strengthened, nor have you healed those who were sick, nor bound up the broken, nor brought back what was driven away, nor sought what was lost; but with force and cruelty you have ruled them” (34:4).

Ezekiel proclaims that the Lord intends the liberty of the year of Jubilee for all who are broken and estranged. He promises that the day will come when he himself will accomplish what the shepherds of Israel have failed to do. “I will feed my flock, and I will make them lie down. I will seek what was lost and bring back what was driven away, bind up the broken and strengthen what was sick; but I will destroy the fat and the strong, and feed them in judgment” (34:15–16).

The hope of Jubilee restoration echoes through the prophets and into the prayers of Israel. In the second blessing of the Amidah, the traditional series of daily blessings, we address the Lord as the One who “sustains the living with kindness, resuscitates the dead with abundant mercy, supports the fallen, heals the sick, releases the confined, and maintains His faith to those asleep in the dust” (Artscroll Siddur 101).

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

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

Once during a discussion at my home congregation’s interfaith couples meeting, one of the non-Messianic Jewish men said, “OK, Yeshua is a great guy. I’ll even accept that he is the greatest guy, but Messiah—who knows? Besides, who needs a Messiah?”

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

Jubilee decrees that each one is to return to his family and to his holding. In our day of isolation and estrangement, this promise is especially significant. In the final chapters of Leviticus, God provides a way of return to himself which anticipates the great restoration that is the underlying theme of all the books of Torah. This return includes restoration of families and friendships that may have been damaged, and restoration to the inheritance of Scripture and the tradition that flows from it. Those who follow Messiah Yeshua believe that he is the one who brings about this return. Therefore, we refuse to account our personal Jubilee complete apart from the Jubilee for all Israel, which ultimately is the Jubilee that restores all humanity.

Jubilee must be proclaimed. Moses says, “You shall sound the shofar, and you shall proclaim liberty” (Lev 25:9–10, paraphrased). As we await the Jubilee to come, may we proclaim the Jubilee that is already here in Messiah Yeshua, so that many in Israel and beyond may return to their families and their holdings, and to the God who is calling them back.

Adapted from Creation to Completion, Messianic Jewish Publishers, 2006.