Depth Perception

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

Suzy Linett, Devar Shalom, Ontario, CA

When I entered kindergarten at the age of five, it was discovered that I required glasses. I had already been learning to read and had no problem seeing things which I held close. When it came to seeing the words things the teacher wrote on the chalkboard, however, everything was blurry and difficult to distinguish. As soon as I received my glasses, I remember being startled by things I could see. My vision included not only what the teacher wrote, but also I could see individual leaves on trees and details that I had simply missed before. This week’s parasha, Re’eh, reminds me of that. Re’eh means “see.” It is not a simple glance or a casual observation that we need, but instead a true, deep vision of the word of God and what our Lord requires of us. 

In this Torah section, the Lord lays before us choices. We not only see what is required; we also see the consequences if we are not obedient. We see the good and we see the bad that can result from our behavior. We cannot appreciate the good unless we see the bad, and we have no desire to avoid the bad unless we see the good. In the human body, it is necessary to see out of both eyes to perceive the depth of things around us. As each eye sees things at a slightly different angle, the brain interprets the two different messages and puts them together to calculate distance and relative position. Re’eh requires that we see not only what we gain by following the Lord, but also what we lose if we don’t. 

As it is read between Tisha b’Av and the beginning of the High Holy Days, Re’eh serves as a way to bring us from deep sorrow into the presence of the Lord God of Israel in glory and joy. It follows the instruction about obedience in last week’s portion, Ekev, which taught that blessings will abound to a people chosen by and obedient to the Lord, and actually that super obedience yields super blessing. In Re’eh, Moses continues with lessons about consequences of choice and of behavior, about holiness and service. 

These lessons are given in the wilderness prior to entry into the Land of Promise. The old generation has died, and only Joshua and Caleb remain with memories of Egypt and the Exodus. Two paths are laid in front of the people. The choice is theirs. They need to see both. Just as we need both eyes for visual depth perception, the Israelites need to see both options for spiritual depth perception. 

The first verse of this parasha, Deuteronomy 11:26, sets the tone: “See, I am setting before you today a blessing and a curse.” Both are set before the Israelites, and indeed, both are set before us today. A choice must be made. There is no middle of the road. One or the other. That’s it. There is distinction and separation. There is no confusion, no gray areas at all. We cannot “stumble” into disobedience; it is a choice, a decision, as the Lord has given us a view, a vision, the power to see consequences. As the parasha continues, it is evident that in order to fully live in the Land, to live the life promised by the Lord, the Israelites had to “cross over” the Jordan River. They had to leave and go to “the other side.” We see this throughout biblical history. Indeed, the word “Hebrew” derives from a root meaning to cross over. Avraham had to cross over the Euphrates, the Israelites had to cross over the Red Sea, the disciples had to cross over the Sea of Galilee, we must cross over from old lives to new ones. We must see the Lord, and we must see how He desires each of us to live.

In Numbers 13, the ten spies who gave a bad report were only able to see the physical realm. They did not have the spiritual depth perception to see what the Lord could do. A few weeks ago, we read how the donkey was able to see the Angel of the Lord even though Balaam could not. In Genesis, Abraham saw the Promised Land of the future. The author of Hebrews, when discussing the faith of our ancestors, wrote, “These all died in faith without receiving the things promised—but they saw them and welcomed them from afar, and they confessed that they were strangers and sojourners on the earth” (11:13). They had spiritual vision, true spiritual depth perception, to see not only what was, but also what is, and what will be.

Separation is the theme of the rest of this parasha. The Lord requires not only that we see spiritually, but that we separate from the path of disobedience completely. We are to eat clean animals only. Unclean animals are simply not food. We are to follow the tithing cycle, which means forgoing the sacrificial system of the pagan nations, and following the Lord’s commands about giving. We are to sanctify the first-born, not sacrifice him to a pagan deity. We are to live apart, not intermingle, yet become an example to the nations around us. In Revelation 3:16 we read, “So because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I am about to spew you out of my mouth.” How do these commands relate to spiritual depth perception? There is a connection between the physical and spiritual realms. Our physical lives set the stage for spiritual blessings. The English writer John Heywood (ca. 1546) wrote, “We cannot see the forest for the trees.” This applies spiritually. Are we so focused on details that we miss the bigger picture? Or, are we so intent on the future that we cannot see those things right in front of us? Re’eh requires that we see the forest and the trees. We must have the depth perception to really see both and how they impact each other.

A song written by Johnny Nash in 1972 says,

 I can see clearly now, the rain has gone
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It's gonna be a bright, bright sun-shining day
It's gonna be a bright, bright sun-shining day

We must have spiritual vision and depth perception to see clearly. “Turn my eyes away from gazing at vanity but revive me in Your ways” (Psalm 119:37). Instead of asking “Do you see what I see?” Re’eh asks, “Do you see what He sees?”

Scripture references are from the TLV

Not by Bread Alone

Parashat Ekev, Deuteronomy 7:12–11:25

Dr. Daniel Nessim, Congregation Kehilat Tsion, Vancouver, BC

Ekev. It means “because” but shares the same spelling as “ekev” as in “heel,” the root of the name of our patriarch Yaakov. It is an odd word, or at least an odd use of the word. The Baal HaTurim by R. Yaakov (1270–1340) explains that the word עקב (ekev) is used because it has a numerical value of 172—the number of words in the Ten Commandments, which were given to Israel in the previous parasha. Perhaps that has merit.

What we do know about this parasha is that it is a veritable cornucopia of admonitions, encouragements, warnings, affirmations, blessings, exhortations, and promises. Here in Ekev God pours out his blessings and well-wishes upon Israel. Written at the end of forty years in the wilderness, throughout its chapters the parasha is rooted in the story of redemption from Egypt, and the subsequent events that Israel had experienced in the wilderness over the past four decades.

Some of the passages are memorable, even pivotal, and well-known.

There is the phrase “You shall be blessed above all peoples” (Deut 7:14). This the Lord says to the nascent nation, still in the process of being delivered. Perhaps today these words seem problematic as envy over Israel’s chosenness has stuck in the craw of supersessionists and antisemites; but the words are unavoidable.

Looking forward to the conquest of the Promised Land, Moses assures Israel of God’s faithfulness with the prophetic phrase “Adonai your God will expel those nations ahead of you little by little” (Deut 7:22). In fact, as the Tanakh records, this process would take many centuries until it was approximately completed in King Solomon’s reign (1 Kings 4:21).

Our parasha this week encourages introspection and self-awareness. The Lord knows our propensity to self-reliance, entitlement, and self-aggrandizement. So we are warned that when we are prosperous we ought to “remember Adonai your God, because it is he who is giving you the power to get wealth” (Deut 8:18).

In this parasha we are given the promise of inordinate success as Moses tells our ancestors: “You are to cross the Yarden today, to go in and dispossess nations greater and stronger than you, great cities fortified up to the sky” (Deut 9:1).

Nevertheless, in this parasha Moses recounts how he broke the first tablets, and then interceded for the people. Again and again, repeatedly, we are reminded to “remember you are a stiff-necked people.”

It is in this land, in the words that have become central to birkat hamazon (the blessing after meals) that Moses promised וְאָכַלְתָּ וְשָׂבָעְתָּ “and you shall eat and be satisfied” (Deut 11:15).

What is the context of all these messages? The context is memory.

Memory, in a reproof to those who say they have no use for history, is crucial for the people of Israel. It is a defining characteristic of our people to this day. It is because of the memory that we were strangers in Egypt that we are not merely to tolerate, but to love the stranger who is among us (Deut 10:19). This is a command which the Soncino Chumash asserts is “unparalleled in the legislation of any ancient people.”

The memories of what God has done and what has happened all culminate in what may be the most crucial exhortation of all:

And now, O Israel, what does the Lord your God demand of you? Only this: to revere the Lord your God, to walk only in His paths, to love Him, and to serve the Lord your God with all your heart and soul, keeping the Lord’s commandments and laws, which I enjoin upon you today, for your good. (Deut 10:12–13 JPS 1985)

The problem, as has already been noted, is that we are stiff-necked. This is why we are admonished to “Circumcise . . . the foreskin of your heart; and don’t be stiff-necked any longer” (Deut 10:16). Christian translations, at least the English ones, tend to downplay the graphic nature of this admonition. When that is done, presumably for the sake of 20th century modesty, some of its impact and significance is obscured. The idea is that just as the uncircumcised skin of the male member protects its most sensitive part, so do our stiff necks shield our most sensitive part—our hearts. Jewish translations into English sometimes word this more directly, using language such as “Cut away, therefore, the thickening about your hearts” or “You are to remove your heart’s blockage, not to make yourselves stubborn anymore.”

It is an understandable thing to shield one’s sensitive heart, but to shield our hearts from God is not sensible at all. It is a misdirected act of self-preservation if, when we suffer the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,” we blame God and turn away from him. Perhaps a parent has lost a child. Perhaps a child has a parent held hostage in a Hamas tunnel. Perhaps life just isn’t turning out the way we have hoped. There is something painful about accepting these things. It hurts even to bring them to Hashem, and perhaps there is some solace in having someone, something, to blame for our pain. To resist the temptation to blame God and to accept his love and to love him with all of our hearts is painful: but it also puts us on the pathway of life, so that we may walk in his paths, for our own good. Perhaps—and this was the point of our suffering in the wilderness as the Lord says in Deut 8:3—even the hardships we endure are for our good.

Our hearts are to be his. It is all he asks—that we revere him, walk only in his paths, love him, and serve him with all our heart and soul, knowing that his commandments and laws are not dated, outmoded, capricious, or nonsensical, as we may be tempted to think. We may not understand the reasoning behind them, but they are for our good.

We are admonished to have an open heart to God, to walk in his ways—and as much as this might mean a painful exposing of our hearts, it is for our good. The rewards promised are outrageously extravagant. They are wondrous and profuse.

Concerning our parasha’s reminder of God’s provision for Israel in the wilderness, Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai was once asked by his disciples, “Why didn't the manna come down for Israel once a year?” After all, it would have been much easier to bring in the harvest annually, as is done for wheat and barley. Why have to go out to reap every single day?

Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai replied:

I shall give a parable. This thing may be compared to a king of flesh and blood who had an only son, whom he provided with maintenance once a year, so that he would visit his father once a year only. Thereupon he provided for his maintenance every day, so that he called on him every day. The same with Israel. One who had four or five children would worry, saying: Perhaps no manna will come down tomorrow, and all will die of hunger? Thus, they were found to turn their attention to their Father in Heaven. (b. Yoma 76a)

It is as our Rabbi Yeshua taught by quoting from this very parasha while suffering the hardship of a forty-day fast in the wilderness. We were given hardship in the wilderness to teach us that “Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of Adonai.”

Unless noted, biblical citations are from the Complete Jewish Bible.

The Consolation of Children

Parashat V’etchanan, Deuteronomy 3:23–7:11

Matt Absolon, Beth T’filah, Miramar, FL

You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. (Deut 6:7)

Nothing breathes more life into a community than the sound of young children, laughing and playing. Even the sound of a baby’s cry, somewhere in the back of the room, can bring feelings of hope. Hope in the future, hope in the next generation, hope that there will be someone to teach.

This week’s parasha features children as a central focus for the purpose of God’s covenantal relationship with our people.

When your son asks you in time to come, “What is the meaning of the testimonies and the statutes and the rules that the Lord our God has commanded you?” then you shall say to your son, . . . “It will be righteousness for us, if we are careful to do all this commandment before the Lord our God, as he has commanded us.” Deut 6:20, 25

The Lord has a keen interest in the way we raise our children. Moreover, the Shema seems to imply that the bearing of children and dedication to their nurturing is an essential mitzvah in our covenantal work. If the words of Torah are on our hearts, we will teach them diligently to our children.

When we gather for the second day of Rosh Hashanah, we read of a terrifying and horrific moment in the history of our people:

Thus says the Lord: “A voice is heard in Ramah, lamentation and bitter weeping. Rachel is weeping for her children; she refuses to be comforted for her children, because they are no more.” (Jer 31:15)

Today, Rachel weeps once more. She weeps for 1,139 victims of October 7. She weeps for her children Ariel and Kfir Bibas who remain in captivity. She weeps for the twelve children of Majdal Shams. She weeps for the children who are no more. She weeps and we weep with her.

And in our weeping we are reminded of those generations who went before us whose children were snatched away, whose young ones were dashed, whose very future was snuffed out. To whom would those generations diligently teach the Torah? Whose son will ask the questions? Who will carry on the covenant into the next generation?

We are reminded of the words of the prophet Isaiah in the haftarah portion for this week:

Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem. . . . He will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms; he will carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young. (Isa 40:1–2, 11)

In the passage, Isaiah comforts our people with a vision of children. The Shepherd of Israel will gather the lambs and gently lead those who are with young. He will gather the young children and the expecting mothers. He will gather the future of our people. The faithfulness of the Lord will once again bring us hope through this picture of rebirth. We find hope and consolation in our children.

Here in the UMJC we remain steadfast in our commitment to our children. We are proud, and glad, to have the Ashreinu School where we teach our children and nurture the spiritual development of the next generation. We have youth camps that instill faith and community bonding among our teens and young adults. We find consolation that there will be a next generation of Messianic Jewish children who will be tenderly gathered in the arms of our Shepherd.

As we gather this Shabbat Nachamu (Shabbat of Consolation) I encourage us all to remember those whose children are no more. I encourage us to see children through the eyes of the Good Shepherd who gathers them in his arms. And when we hear the cry of the baby in the room during our morning prayers, or the pitter-patter of little feet running up and down the aisles, to smile and be glad, Ashreinu, for Rachel will find consolation in her children.

Scripture references are from the English Standard Version, ESV.

Tisha b'Av: Lamenting with Hope

Tisha b’Av 5784 (August 12–13), the Scroll of Lamentations

Russ Resnik, UMJC Rabbinic Counsel

We live in an era that’s impatient with the past. We often hear people ask why we should remember and revisit events that happened centuries ago. History is increasingly neglected in our schools and bulldozed out of our media to make way for whatever is the latest thing. A date like Tisha b’Av, the ninth day of the Hebrew month of Av—on which the ancient Temple of Jerusalem was destroyed in 586 BCE and again in 70 CE—can seem especially remote. The drama that this date memorializes, however, is as current as today’s news stream. Recognizing and honoring that drama has been and remains a key to the vitality of the Jewish people.

After Israel’s declaration of independence in 1948, some Jewish voices advocated abandoning the observance of Tisha b’Av. This catastrophic date embodied all the loss and suffering of the exile that followed, and it also marks some of the lowest points of that exile, such as the expulsion from Spain in 1492, and the outbreak of World War I, which set in motion the events leading to the Holocaust. But with the return to the land of Israel it seemed as if the exile was coming to an end and its mourning could be replaced with rejoicing, as the Prophets had foretold.

Seventy-five years later, it’s clear that continuing to observe Tisha b’Av was the right direction to take. The Jewish return to the land of Israel is ongoing, but so are the conditions of exile and the forces of resistance to Jewish restoration. The first days of the month of Av this year are overshadowed by the threat of retribution by Hezbollah and Iran, its puppet-master. After the elimination of Hamas’ leader last week, the terrorist group chose the mastermind of the October 7 attack on Israel as its new leader, defiantly signaling its undying urge to destroy the Jewish state.

So, our commemoration of Tisha b’Av remains sadly relevant in the year 2024. And the special reading for Tisha b’Av, the scroll of Eicha or Lamentations, traditionally attributed to the prophet Jeremiah, can guide us in our commemoration. It raises a voice of lamentation but also insists on hope, two impulses that have carried us as a people through our agelong exile.

The first Hebrew word in the scroll, which provides the name of the book, is Eicha, meaning literally, How? “How lonely sits the city, once so full of people!” as in the TLV and numerous other translations. One recent translation, however, might capture the sense of the original more compellingly:

 Eikhah! How can it be –
that she sat alone,
the city so great / so swelled with people?

Rabbi David Seidenberg, https://opensiddur.org/

If we hear the words of Lamentations well, and if we are paying attention to the swirling events around us right now, we might well ask, “How can it be?” Jeremiah wisely does not just provide explanations, as we often seek to do in the face of tragedy and loss. Rather, he goes beyond explaining how it can be to draw us into a response to how it is, a response with two components—lamentation and hope.

Lamenting is evident from the first verse, just cited, onward through the entire scroll. Toward the midpoint, after two and a half chapters of mourning the destruction of the Temple, and the sins that brought it on, Jeremiah calls out to Adonai:

Remember my affliction
my homelessness, bitterness and gall.

Whenever I remember,
    my soul is downcast within me. (Lam 3:19–20)

In this context, we might not expect verses of hope but they are coming. Before we look at them, it’s good to remember the familiar contrast between hope and optimism. Like some of you, I sometimes say I’m not optimistic, but I am hopeful. Optimism considers the circumstances, sees some promising elements, and believes, however cautiously, that things are going to work out. Hope considers the circumstances and then looks past them to the One behind all circumstances and hangs on to his promises. As Jeremiah declares,

This I recall to my heart—
    therefore I have hope:
Because of the mercies of Adonai
    we will not be consumed,
    for His compassions never fail. (3:21–22)

Toward the end of Lamentations, both themes, lamentation and hope, seem intertwined. We ask God, “Why do You always forget us and forsake us for so long?” (5:20), and then we voice the famous lines, Hashivenu Adonai elecha v’nashuva. Chadesh yameinu ki-kedem. “Turn us back, Hashem, to you and we shall return; renew our days as of old!” (5:21, my translation).

Tisha b’Av keeps alive the memory of the whole Jewish story through the centuries, a story reflecting both the lament of exile and the hope of return. Those who follow Messiah Yeshua see both exile and return, lament and hope, embodied in his death, burial, and resurrection.

In light of this truth, as I mentioned in last week’s Weekly Torah email, the UMJC Exec is calling for an emphasis on repentance, or teshuva, return, along with prayer for Israel, in addition to the traditional prayers, during our observance of Tisha b’Av next week (Monday evening, 8/12–Tuesday, 8/13). 

Here are seven points of prayer for Tisha b’Av and the days leading up to it:

• For all plans of retaliation against Israel to fail. May the unprecedented events of recent days that threaten to tip the Middle East into all-out war, instead set the stage for lasting peace.

• For all the hostages to be set free, speedily and soon. “He has sent me . . . to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound” (Isa 61:1).

• For many within the ranks of Hamas and Hezbollah to see the futility and wickedness of their hatred of Israel and the Jewish people, turn away from it, and drop their arms.

• For the children of Gaza and the Palestinian territories to be freed from the indoctrination toward hatred in their schools. For seeds of understanding and peace to be sown among both the Arab and Israeli populations.

• For deep repentance within Israel over the growing divisions and discord there. Pray for wise and sacrificial leadership that can help bring the people of Israel together.

• For mercy and minimal harm upon civilians on all sides, and for a growing awareness and turning toward the one true God among them all.

• Against the rising tide of antisemitism around the world. Pray with authority against the demonic forces of hatred directed at the Jewish people. 

Arise, Adonai! May Your enemies be scattered! May those who hate You flee from before You! (Num 10:35)

Scripture references, unless otherwise noted, are from the Tree of Life Version.

According to Jewish tradition, the regulations for fasting on Tisha b’Av are similar to those for Yom Kippur, with abstinence from the same five activities: 1) eating and drinking; 2) washing one’s body; 3) anointing oneself (which includes perfume, cologne, etc.); 4) wearing leather shoes; 5) marital relations. On Erev Tisha B’Av it is customary to read the book of Lamentations, often seated on the floor or on low stools.

Be True to Your Word

Parashat Matot-Masei, Numbers 30:2–36:13  

Matt Absolon, Beth T’filah, Miramar, FL

Moses spoke to the heads of the tribes of the people of Israel, saying, “This is what the Lord has commanded. If a man vows a vow to the Lord, or swears an oath to bind himself by a pledge, he shall not break his word. He shall do according to all that proceeds out of his mouth. (Num 30:2–3)

The Torah places a high value on words. It even has a book named “Words,” or Devarim. God’s words are the vehicle through which our universe was created and God’s words are the vehicle that offer mankind the bread life. It is fundamentally central to the character of God that he is a “God of his word,” that is to say, that God means what he says. God is a God of integrity.

That is a very comforting thought.

The subject of words takes front and center stage as we open up this week’s portion. More specifically, the mitzvah that a man “shall not break his word.” The Hebrew for break, yachal, is often translated by the sages as “profane.” The imagery is that we should not sully or muddy our word.

In Psalm 12:6 we read, “The words of the Lord are pure.” We should strive to be like our Father, whose words are pure.

It’s a very Jewish thing for us to take our word with all earnestness. We are people of the Book, a book made up of words. We are then, quite literally, a people of words. And when we “give our word” in the colloquial sense, we understand that God is watching and recording.

As we open the services on the eve of Yom Kippur we start out with that ancient prayer of Kol Nidrei, translated as “All Vows.” The Kol Nidrei prayer draws its theological power from this week’s portion and it sets the tone of Yom Kippur. In reciting the Kol Nidrei we seek forgiveness for the vows and oaths we have spoken in vain or (in the case of persecution) under duress.     

Why should we open Yom Kippur with the Kol Nidrei? Perhaps one answer might be found in the Psalms:

O Lord, who shall sojourn in your tent? Who shall dwell on your holy hill? . . . he who swears to his own hurt and does not change. (Psa 15:1, 4)

In this psalm King David highlights one of the necessary character traits of those who will dwell on God’s holy mountain, those who keep their word even to their own hurt. The Kol Nidrei seeks to make amends before the Heavenly Court for our disingenuous vows and oaths, so that we might restore the integrity of our word before our God and King. On Yom Kippur we seek to restore our integrity and purity before God. We start by restoring our words.

As God’s children we must value the virtue of having integrity of our word.

Yeshua admonished our forefathers about the importance of integrity when we give our word. In Matthew 5 he tells the crowds gathered to hear his Sermon on the Mount, “Let what you say be simply ‘Yes’ or ‘No’; anything more than this comes from evil.”

It is important for us as God’s people to display integrity and purity when we give our word. In the vows we vow and the oaths we pledge, we must live out the nature of our Heavenly Father, whose living Word is pure and bring us to eternal life.

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. John 1:14

Shabbat Shalom!

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.