42 Sermon Illustrations on Jews

Jesus believed the Kingdom of God was being fulfilled in his own ministry. The chosen people are no longer Jews, but those who believe in Jesus. The “chosen” are rejected - Matt 8:10-12. The chosen come from the four corners of the earth - Mk 13:27. The OT promises are universalized.

Religious parties in Israel gained in 1988 election. Hasidic Rabbi Menachem Schneerson, 86, of Brooklyn, N.Y., is the revered leader of the populist Lubavitcher movement, which promotes old-fashioned dress and strict observance of Jewish law and ritual. He refuses to visit Israel until the Messiah comes. A rival is Rabbi Eliezer Schach, 92, who founded the Degel Torah party.

The Hasidic offered their rebbe's blessing to anyone who would promise to vote for Agudat (Schneerson's party). In their ardor, some campaigners offered miracle cures, and in Tiberias they even assured a widow that the blessing would resurrect her husband.

Such tactics were so effective another rabbi complained to a special religious tribunal, which solemnly freed voters from their oath of allegiance to Agudat and promised to protect defectors from any curse that Schneerson might lay upon them.

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The current theological trend is to absolve Jews, collectively and individually, from the guilt of killing Jesus. Maier argues that this is simplistic. Jews are not collectively guilty but certain Jewish leaders, as well as Pilate, had a role to play in his death. This is the consistent testimony of early Jewish sources (Josephus, Babylonian Talmud) and the early Church fathers. It is also important to see that some contemporary Jews supported Jesus, even during the trial and crucifixion (note wailing of bystanders).

"Two covenant" theology says that God will save the Jews under their own system, not Christianity. Many Christian theologians have condemned the evangelism of Jews as anti-Semitism. Some of them see the New Testament as anti-Jewish as well.

J.I. Packer warns evangelicals of 4 temptations in making salvation...

1. Less urgent.

2. Less agonizing.

3. Less central.

4. Less substantial.

"To withhold the gospel from any people is to ensure their spiritual death. There is no distinction, since all have sinned."

Rev. J. David Davis was pastor of the Emmanuel Baptist Church in Athens, Tennessee, when he discovered his "new light" and converted his church into a Jewish synagogue named "B'Nai No'ach" (children of Noah). They dismantled the church's steeple and carted it off to the dump because it was a "fertility symbol." Half the 140 members defected to other churches. They do not keep kosher, ritual circumcision or bar mitzvahs. Davis says Jesus was merely a traditional rabbi of his day, "a great prophet but no divinity." (How could he be a great prophet if he were a fraud and a deceiver, claiming to be divine, accepting worship, and insisting he was equal with the Father? He is either God or demoniac; there are no other logical choices.)

The "Wall Street Journal" quoted Jack Scallions, an Athens minister and head of a Christian school, as saying, "I think it's a cult." Davis and his crowd aren't the first to return to Judaism. The Book of Hebrews was written to folks nearly 2,000 years ago who were making the same tragic mistake, entering into a condition which made it "impossible" - if they truly understood what they were doing - to be brought again to the place of repentance and salvation. [1496]

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Sermon by Rabbi Joel Soffin on Yom Kippur Morning - 5754. The sermon deals with writing letters to God. A Rebbe is a rabbi for the Hasidic sect of Judaism.

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Rabbi Elie Spitz' mother says to him: "This is my kvitl. When you get to Jerusalem, put it between the stones in the kotel for me."

When my mother visited me during my first year in rabbinical school in Israel, she brought with her a shopping bag full of these kvitlach - these pieces of paper with notes on them for G-d. She also had with her three blank pads in case I had not had the opportunity to complete all of my own messages and to place them in crevices in the Western Wall.

How did this tradition arise? When did we first begin to write letters to G-d?

A kvitl was originally a note given by a Hasid to his Rebbe. It contained a brief description of his physical and spiritual needs. It was accompanied, of course, by a contribution to support the Rebbe's household and his work.

It was given to the Rebbe in the belief that his prayers would be more likely to be heard by G-d. Because of his great piety, the Rebbe was seen to be an effective conduit to G-d. He had a much closer, more personal relationship with G-d than the average Jew.

By the eighteenth century, this tradition of writing notes was transferred to the Western Wall. After all, it had served as the outer retaining wall of the Holy Temple itself and was as filled with holiness as any place on earth. The stones in the wall became a spiritual mailbox with countless correspondents.

That's how Jews began to write kvitlach, crumple them up into a tight ball and wedge them into every crack and crevice in the awe-inspiring stones of the Kotel. While at the Wall, they would kiss the stones and standing very close, whisper prayers to G-d. Some say it is from this practice that the expression arose that "the walls have ears." In any event, express mail was delivered faithfully every moment of the day and night from Jews to G-d.

When my mother came to visit me with her shopping bag full of kvitlach, I wasn't very pleased. Who had time to put all of those notes into the Wall? If you have ever been to the Kotel, you know that there are few if any spaces left. There is a great temptation to pull out other people's notes to make room for your own. Regardless of how careful you try to be, they will inevitably fall to the ground anyway.

I also had grave theological doubts about this whole endeavor. It felt too much like idol worship. Just as I didn't believe that the Rebbe was holier than any other Jew or closer to G-d, so I didn't believe that this Wall was a special chute to G-d's mailbox. Surely, G-d would hear the prayers of all Jews equally whether they were excerpted and stuffed into the Wall or not.

My mother, on the other hand, would not be waylaid on her way to the Kotel, shopping bag in tow. She was a rather short woman but very determined. So soon I found myself standing alongside her, squeezing those kvitlach into their spaces. Embarrassed or not, there was a spiritual job to be done.

I still feel a great reluctance to write such notes and place them into the Wall. I am not enthusiastic about turning one of our Religious School rooms into a mock Western Wall, complete with slotted shoe boxes to receive our children's notes. And when I read of how you can now FAX a message to G-d, I am even more dismayed.

Yet, when we went to visit Israel several years ago and one of my sons put together the things he was bringing, there they were again: seven pieces of paper with notes to G-d written on them. "Let all the Soviet Jews go free." "G-d, let there be peace in the world." As I read the notes, my theological objections melted away. Without comment, I helped him to pack them carefully into the suitcase.

Now, I was a willing participant in the process. I lifted him up so he could find out-of-the-way places in which to put his precious kvitlach. I did nothing to dampen his enthusiasm or to discourage him in any way. Instead, I found myself thinking about my mother.

Why had she been so set on placing notes into the Wall? Why did she make such an effort to help her friends prepare their own notes to G-d and then carry them across the ocean? And why did she want me to write dozens of them for myself?

The answer couldn't be that she saw the Wall as an idol or as a postage free passage to G-d's Post Office. Her connection to G-d was deeper and truer than that of any person I've ever known. She spoke to G-d often, praying for us behind shielded eyes after she had blessed the Shabbat candles, talking to G-d many times during the day.

These letters and notes were just one more way for her to stay in touch with G-d. While in Jerusalem, it seemed imperative to do so. The fact that those notes which fell out of the Wall would be swept up and buried, like holy books, just added to the sense of spirituality my mother felt.

Psychologists tell us that writing letters can be very helpful and therapeutic. Imagine writing not to G-d but to your parents. So often, there are things that were never said, feelings we had but could not share -either because we were uncomfortable verbalizing them, or because our parents couldn't hear them.

It hurts us to have our feelings closed off in this way. We need to be able to share the truth of our lives with our parents, to express gratitude for the sacrifices they made and the love they shared - and to reveal, in a kind and gentle way to be sure, the pain and sadness we experienced with them as well. Sometimes, the only way to do so is through a letter.

Such a letter can bring us closer to our parents and can reestablish the bonds between us. It can let them know that we have some understanding of what life was like for them, that it was not always so simple and so easy. It can tell them that we have much love for them and that we forgive them. And such letters can be written, if not sent, to our deceased parents, ALAYHEM HASHALOM, as well. They can bring closure to the unfinished business of a life cut short by death.

Think about it. Isn't this the kind of New Year's card we ought to be writing?

And then there are the letters to our children. One of my colleagues, Rabbi Richard Israel, wrote his daughter Alisa four special letters over the course of the first twenty-seven years of her life. The first one, he wrote in the hospital waiting for her to be born:

"May you be able to be either kind or angry for others' sakes. Even more, may you be willing from time to time to risk doing something that may turn out to be foolish, for the sake of a wise concern. I promise you that I will try hard and hope that you will not have to pay too much for my on-the-job training as a father. If you try to forgive my mistakes, I'll try to forgive yours."

He wrote again when she was eighteen and going off to college, when she was twenty-four and about to get married, and finally, when the cycle was complete and she was soon to have a child of her own. At that time he wrote:

"You already seem to know what to do with babies, something I never quite learned. I was determined to be an outstanding parent - an outrageous goal. You are more likely to want to be a good-enough parent. Undoubtedly, you will not make the same mistakes we did. Rather, like us, you will make your own new and improved mistakes. Just don't assume that by doing the opposite of what we did, you will be more likely to be right."

There is nothing more precious than these letters and the love found within them. They will be saved and treasured forever. Wouldn't you want to be able to read and reread four letters like these written to you by our parents? Don't deprive your children of this precious gift.

I have left the most personal letters of all for last. These may be the hardest to write at first, but they will be well worth the effort. They are like the kvitlach my mother used to write. They are full letters to G-d. Yes, without the Kotel and without the Rebbe, I am suggesting that you write your own letters to G-d.

This is a uniquely Jewish way of communicating with G-d. It is a reminder that an audience with G-d is easily accessible. It underscores the importance of expressing our deepest yearnings, gratitude and concerns directly to our compassionate G-d.

The power of these letters to G-d will be felt the first time you try to write one. It won't be easy. We are not very comfortable communicating so directly with G-d. Rarely do we open our hearts to G-d.

In a letter, there will be no choice. We have to be honest with G-d. There can be no deception. We trust G-d too much for us to hold back or to cover up anything. The letters will be between us and G-d alone. Great will be the emotional release and the insight gained by such direct and truthful sharing.

A woman once came to see Rabbi Elie Spitz for counseling. She had cancer and was undergoing chemotherapy. Her husband was being very supportive. Yet, she still felt a fundamental aloneness due to the ordeal of her treatment. The hour she spent each week awaiting the report of her hormone levels, which might indicate the need for stronger treatment, was filled with anxiety and a deep loneliness.

The rabbi told her of the Jewish practice of kvittel writing. He suggested that she find a quiet time before going to the doctor's office to write such a letter. It would allow her to feel G-d's presence and to express her anxieties and fears.

He has encouraged many others - some who are ill and others who are physically well - to write letters to G-d also. Listen to what a twelve year old wrote:

Dear G-d, It seems like there are so many wars. So many bad things in the world. I don't understand why these terrible things happen to certain people. So many innocent people are murder victims. It scares me to think that these things could just as easily happen to me as anyone else.

And this is the letter written to G-d by an adult physician:

Dear G-d, First, my thanks for all the wonderful blessings I've received. My religion has helped me mold my understanding of You as a loving, forgiving and helpful G-d. I wish for little else beyond what I already receive. My hope and request rather are for the perpetuation of our religious ethics, of the best tradition and character of our people and for longevity, happiness and love of G-d by my family and descendants. Keep up the good work!

Difficult as it may be to write kvitlach like these to G-d, there is one even more challenging letter that remains to be written. Rabbi Spitz told the woman who had come to him for counselling and the others who wrote letters to G-d, that now they had to write answers from G-d. That's right: they had to write themselves letters back from G-d.

It is not easy to write from G-d's point of view, to see yourself as G-d might see you. You are not taking G-d's place, just trying to imagine how G-d might respond. These letters will surprise you with their depth and insight. They will give you a sense of G-d's compassion and will teach you to listen for the still, small voice of G-d that speaks within each of us.

Listen now to how G-d answered the letters I described to you earlier. The woman awaiting news about her chemotherapy wrote a reply from G-d that offered her the reassurance that "she would receive no burden greater than she could bear" and offered her an opening to G-d's comfort and accessibility in confronting her aloneness.

The twelve year old wrote this letter: "I know that there are many wars and innocent people being killed. I myself can't control mentally sick people. So many people are dissatisfied with their life that they want to ruin other people's. Love, G-d."

And the adult physician received this response from G-d: "Fear not for Jews, for your family or for those you love. They will be helped and protected by the same values and ethical precepts that guide you and will [... omitted]. Remember, I will always be here to talk to, to write to, to lean on. Keep up the good work yourself. Love, G-d."

I wrote a sermon letter to my father before Jeremy's Bar Mitzvah. My mother did not leave me any letters like Rabbi Israel's to his daughter, though I wish she had. But my mother did speak to G-d and write to G-d, and she taught me to do so as well.

May you be blessed with parents who will write to you, and may you write to them and to your children in return. Most of all, may you have the faith and the courage to write letters to G-d and the chutzpah and the blessing to receive letters back in return.

AMEN.

#2574

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Followers of the Rebbi Schneerson in Morris County, New Jersey, have put up billboards exhorting Jews to be ready for the coming of “Moshiach” or Messiah. A picture of the Rebbi reading the Bible is on the board. The followers say the Rebbe told them before his death that he specifically wanted an all-out advertising campaign to prepare people, particularly Jews, for his resurrection. He had preached about spreading goodness and kindness through individual acts, and his followers believe that if enough people follow his message, the world will be better prepared to receive him, and his arrival will be speedier.

“The rebbe told us himself, five years ago, ‘The time has come for preparation.’ He said Moshiach is ready to come. The world is prepared, now we each have to prepare by doing good and kind things for one another,” says Shifra Chana Hendrie of Morristown. “In the Jewish faith, we believe in a balance between good and evil. It could be just one good deed done by you or me that tips the scales so that he returns.”

Morris county has an estimated 40,000 to 45,000 Jews. Most Jewish leaders disagree with the signs and believe it is inappropriate. “That is not what the rebbe wanted. He was not running for office,” Rabbi Moshe Herson says.

[For part 1, see #3545]

What motivated the rescuers of Jews during World War II? Rescuers have given a wide variety of answers to the question of what motivated them. Here are the major reasons for rescue that have been cited:

* Personal ties with Jews. A significant number of rescuers acted, at least in part, on the basis of a personal relationship with a particular Jew in need. Rescuers were more likely to have been people who had Jewish friends before the Holocaust, not because they had greater opportunity to make such friends, but because they were more open to such friendships. These friendships then bore fruit during the Holocaust, as rescuers “laid down their lives,” sometimes literally, for their Jewish friends (John 15:13). We see the moral importance of friendship, and of Christian openness to diverse kinds of friends. Jesus was one who could be found at the home of nearly anybody, from tax collector to sinner to Pharisee (Matt. 9:10-11). Do we cross social boundary lines, including the stranger among us, the way he did?

* Group influence. Some rescuers report that they saved Jews because of the moral example or exhortation of a group that was important to them. Such groups included family, friends, church groups or subgroups, resistance networks, neighbors, or community leaders. Western ethics long has built its theories around the lone individual making moral decisions based upon rational considerations. But anyone who has lived among people rather than as a hermit knows that we are indeed profoundly influenced in our decisions by those whose opinions matter to us. Perhaps we ought to ponder who those influential people and groups are in our lives and whether each merits the place it occupies. As well, we ought to ask whether the church can recover its appropriate role as such a community of moral action and accountability.

* Patriotism and political convictions. A considerable number of rescuers acted on the basis of patriotism and various other political convictions. This occurred in Germany, where a patriotism that led to rescue was both countercultural and a capital crime. More often, it happened in lands under German occupation, such as Denmark and Holland, where the assault on the Jews was seen as an assault on a portion of that nation’s citizens as well as on national values. Those most likely to help Jews for patriotic reasons were people involved in underground resistance movements engaging in a wide range of anti-Nazi activities.

This finding helps to show the appropriateness of a life- and justice- affirming patriotism for Christians. A rightly conceived patriotism can be a powerful resource for right action. But the activities of other kinds of “patriots,” those who murdered the innocent in the name of their tribe or nation - and continue to do so today - demonstrate the extraordinary danger of an uncritical patriotism that will follow the nation’s leaders even into genocide. There are God-given limits on any appropriate Christian patriotism (Acts 5:29).

* Justice, care, and compassion. Rescue was quite often the instantaneous response of one individual to another in need. Rescuers sometimes employ the language of a principled commitment to justice and human rights when describing why they responded to the needy person as they did. Sometimes rescuers saw the outrageous mistreatment of a Jew and simply knew that they must personally redress such injustice. One hears the cry of outrage of the prophets in the voice of such rescuers. “Seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow” (Isa. 1:17).

Others talk about the moral obligation to care for people, especially those in need. These were often people who had been taught to be kind, merciful, and generous, to do something to help when help is needed. “But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds...and took care of him” (Luke 10:33-34).

A third group cannot give a reason why they helped, beyond the fact that they were simply moved to the depths of their being by the plight of a Jewish person or family desperately in trouble. They did not think about what to do; they simply acted with compassion to help those who needed help.

* Christian faith. A minority of rescuers tell researchers that they acted to rescue Jews on the basis of explicitly Christian motives. Of course, from a Christian perspective, every motive already listed has a place in the Christian life, as the biblical references show. But there were other motives that only the “religious” Christian rescuers cite.

For example, some Christians were influenced toward rescue by a sense of special religious kinship with Jews. This religious philo-Semitism particularly characterized rescuers from the theologically orthodox Reformed churches in the Netherlands and in France. This is an extraordinarily important finding for evangelicals, all of whom should be seeking to free Christian theology from the evil of anti-Semitism (Rom. 9:4-5) without compromising biblical faith in the process.

Devout Christian rescuers often cite the teachings of Jesus and other biblical texts as requiring them to rescue Jews. The most important of these for rescuers were the Golden Rule (Matt. 7:12), the story of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37), the double love command (Matt. 22:34-40), and the Great Judgment (Matt. 25:31-46). Some Christians saw that Nazism was an outbreak of the demonic that was completely irreconcilable with Christian faith. Their response was to rescue Nazism’s primary victims. A handful of Christian communities acted together to rescue Jews, such as the French Protestant village of Le Chambon. This community was especially influenced by the remembered experience of their own persecution at the hands of Catholic France, which led them to reach out to another persecuted religious community.

Once convinced that rescue was God’s will for them, Christians were sustained by the classic resources of Christian piety-prayer, worship, Bible study, and community support where that was available. Some Christians believed that they were under special providential care as they rescued, while others gained courage from the thought that if they were caught and killed for rescue, they would face God with a clear conscience. There are few forces more powerful than the faith of committed Christian men and women who know that they are doing the will of God and are empowered by God’s Spirit as they do it.

FOLLOWING JESUS CHRIST

Those of us who have pledged that Jesus Christ is our Lord must live in accordance with his teachings and conform our lives to his will and example (Matt. 7:21). This is what it means to call him Lord and to be his disciples. It was this same Lord Jesus who told his first disciples, “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me” (Matt. 16:24).

Can there be any doubt what Jesus would have done if a Jewish family came to his door and asked for his help in surviving the Holocaust? Can you imagine him turning that family away, or running off to get the Gestapo? Never. The Righteous Gentiles of the Holocaust were people who followed Jesus by the conduct of their lives. They bear witness to the church by their example. They ask us to consider whether we, too, are following Jesus Christ in the conduct of our lives.

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David P. Gushee is assistant professor of Christian Ethics at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky. This article is based on his new book, “The Righteous Gentiles of the Holocaust: A Christian Interpretation” (Fortress).

Copyright (c) 1994 Christianity Today, Inc./CHRISTIANITY TODAY Magazine

May it be Thy will that the Temple be speedily rebuilt in our days.

That plea to God, recited three times a day in Jewish prayers, expresses a yearning that makes Jerusalem's Temple Mount potentially the most volatile 35 acres on earth.

Two Talmudic schools located near the Western (Wailing) Wall are teaching nearly 200 students the elaborate details of Temple service. Other groups are researching the family lines of Jewish priests who alone may conduct sacrifices. Next year an organizing convention will be held for those who believe

themselves to be of priestly descent. Former Chief Rabbi Shlomo Goren, who heads another Temple Mount organization, believes his research has fixed the location of the ancient Holy of Holies so that Jews can enter the Mount without sacrilege. He insists, "I cannot leave this world without assuring that Jews will once

again pray on the Mount." -- Time, October 16, 1989, p. 64-65.

The 17th century Jewish historian, Raphael Levi, admitted that long ago the rabbis used to read Isaiah 53 in synagogues, but after the chapter caused “arguments and great confusion” the rabbis decided that the simplest thing would be to just take that prophecy out of the Haftarah readings in synagogues. That’s why today when we read Isaiah 52, we stop in the middle of the chapter and the week after we jump straight to Isaiah 54.

What happened to Isaiah 53, you might be wondering? That is exactly what this article is about.

In the Bible, in the book of Isaiah, chapter 53 the prophet prophesies about the Messiah that he would be rejected by his people suffer and die in agony and that God would see his suffering and death as an atonement for the sins of humanity. Isaiah lived and prophesied about 700 BCE. According to his prophecy in chapter 53 the leaders of Israel would recognize they had made a mistake at the end of days when they rejected the Messiah, so Isaiah put the prophecy in past tense and because he saw himself as part of the people of Israel he used third person plural (we).

At the end of chapter 52 Isaiah writes an introduction to chapter 53:

“Behold, my servant shall prosper...”

The term “servant” is supposed to connect back to sections earlier in the book that speak of “the Servant of the Lord” (for example, in chapters 42, 49 and 50, where the Messiah is described as a servant that suffers).

“He will be high and lifted up and greatly exalted.”

This is to emphasize the eminence of the Messiah who would in fact rise from the dead, and ascend to the heavens and sit next to the Father. His actions would give him a higher status that every human king or ruler.

“Just as many were appalled at You — His appearance was disfigured more than any man, His form more than the sons of men.”

Before the Messiah is exalted he would suffer and be humiliated. His body would be abused and tortured so badly that he would be completely disfigured and unrecognizable.

“So He will sprinkle many nations. Kings will shut their mouths because of Him, for what had not been told them they will see, and what they had not heard they will perceive.”

Despite the horrific suffering the day would come when even kings would come to look to him with reverence.

And now, let’s dive into chapter 53 itself...

“Who has believed our report?”

This is describing the lack of faith among the people of Israel who don’t believe what they’ve heard.

“To whom is the arm of Adonai revealed?”

Isaiah calls the Messiah the “Arm of the Lord”. Earlier, in chapter 40 Isaiah declares that the “Arm of the Lord” would rule for him. In chapter 51 the gentiles put their hope in the “Arm of the Lord”, and the “Arm of the Lord” would redeem. In chapter 52 the “Arm of the Lord” brings salvation. Now, in 53, Isaiah reveals to us that the “Arm of the Lord” is in fact the Messiah. The Messiah is very much part of God himself.

For He grew up before Him like a tender shoot,

like a root out of dry ground.

He had no form or majesty that we should look at Him,

nor beauty that we should desire Him.

He was a shoot in spiritually dry ground – there had been no word from God for 400 years.

“He had no beauty that we should desire Him”.

He was not appealing to us. We didn’t want him. His appearance wasn’t particularly glorious or impressive, and the way he showed up didn’t cause people to desire him. In contrast to what rabbinic Halacha teaches today, according to this prophecy, the Messiah would not be born to a prestigious rabbinic family or grow up in the grand residences of wealthy rabbis. We can say with near certainty that the external appearance of the Messiah was nothing extraordinary at all.

He was despised and rejected by men,

a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief,

One from whom people hide their faces.

He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.

The life of the Messiah was characterized by pain, rejection and suffering. He didn’t get the honor due to the Messiah, but was despised and rejected by the leaders of his people. We considered him some kind of social misfit – someone we might hide our faces from when we pass someone on the street that we are embarrassed to see.

We didn’t think he was the Messiah. We didn’t even register it could be him.

Surely He has borne our griefs

and carried our pains.

Yet we esteemed Him stricken,

struck by God, and afflicted.

The Messiah suffered in our place – he carried our sicknesses, our suffering, our pain ... and the sins we committed, while our people – while we – thought he was being punished, and that his suffering was God’s punishment for sins that he himself had committed. We didn’t understand that it was for OUR sin.

But He was pierced because of our transgressions,

crushed because of our iniquities.

The chastisement for our shalom was upon Him,

and by His stripes we are healed.

The Hebrew says wounded, pierced. He died. Like someone who has fallen wounded, or someone perforated with bullets – not for any fault of his own, but it was our wrongdoing. He was crushed because of our inequities, our sins – the punishment and discipline we deserved went to him. The “stripes” are hard blows that leave marks, and by his scars we are healed. In exactly this way, hundreds of years later, the prophecy was fulfilled. Yeshua was sent to the cross in order to take the death we deserved.

We all like sheep have gone astray.

Each of us turned to his own way.

So Adonai has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.

The Hebrew talks of going astray like sheep wander off and get lost. We all, people of Israel, ignored him and went on our way, but despite this, God put all our sin and iniquity on him – on the Messiah.

He was oppressed and He was afflicted

yet He did not open His mouth.

Like a lamb led to the slaughter,

like a sheep before its shearers is silent,

so He did not open His mouth.

The Hebrew says he was exploited, abused ... his dignity and right to a fair trial were taken from him. The Hebrew says he was afflicted – tortured – but he didn’t open his mouth. This shows that he did not resist his unjust sentence. He didn’t try to rebel or escape, and he didn’t take legal representation in spite of the fact he was facing a death sentence, but he was led like a sheep to the slaughter, or to be sheared without resisting the injustices being done to him.

Because of oppression and judgment He was taken away.

As for His generation, who considered?

For He was cut off from the land of the living,

for the transgression of my people —

the stroke was theirs.

They arrested him and took his to trial. As a result of the trial he was “cut off from the land of the living”. A death sentence. Not for his own crimes, but those of his people. In the Scriptures, “My people” always means the people of Israel. The Messiah would die not for his own sin but for the sin of his people – the people who should be taking the punishment for their own sins – but the Messiah took it upon himself. He is the one who died.

His generation wouldn’t care to bring him up in conversation, but would rather sweep his existence under the carpet. So for the last 2000 years, Yeshua the Messiah has been the best kept secret in Judaism, and this is precisely why he was labelled “Yeshu” in Judaism, which stands for “May his name and memory be blotted out”.

His grave was given with the wicked,

and by a rich man in His death,

though He had done no violence,

nor was there any deceit in His mouth.

Even though he was taken out to be executed like a criminal, even though he did nothing wrong, and never lied, in his death he was to be buried in the fancy tomb of a rich man. Yeshua really was killed on the cross and was buried in the grave of a rich man a member of the Sanhedrin, Joseph of Arimathea. It’s a clear symbol of the ironic situation in which the Messiah receives honor for the noblest deed of them all – taking the death sentence we deserve on himself.

Yet it pleased Adonai to bruise Him.

He caused Him to suffer.

If He makes His soul a guilt offering,

He will see His offspring, He will prolong His days,

and the will of Adonai will succeed by His hand.

So who is responsible for the death of the Messiah? “The Jews”? As so many Catholics have accused us of in the past? Maybe the Romans? They were the ones who actually crucified him? No.

“God was pleased to bruise him”. God is the only one able to forgive and bring salvation to the world and he turned himself into a sacrifice. What kind of sacrifice? A guilt offering. The death of the Messiah was no accident – God used his own stiff-necked people as priests in order to bring about the forgiveness of sins not only for his people Israel, but for the whole of humanity. In contrast to the Yom Kippur sacrifice which was only valid until the following year and just ‘covered over’ sin, the atonement of the Messiah took away our sin once and for all! None of us as human beings are perfect – we are not able to be that perfect sacrifice. Only God himself could do that.

After that comes a very interesting statement:

“He will see His offspring, He will prolong His days,”

In spite of the fact he would be killed, he would also prolong his days. He would rise again from the dead and would see the “fruit of his seed”, planted in his resurrection. By the way, we also have a video on the resurrection of Yeshua.

As a result of the anguish of His soul

He will see it and be satisfied by His knowledge.

The Righteous One, My Servant will make many righteous

and He will bear their iniquities.

The Messiah would see and be satisfied by his labor, because many would be made righteous by the suffering he endured, as a righteous man when he took on himself the sins and iniquities of many. All who recognize him as the Messiah will be his “seed” in a spiritual sense.

Therefore I will give Him a portion with the great,

and He will divide the spoil with the mighty —

because He poured out His soul to death,

and was counted with transgressors.

For He bore the sin of many,

and interceded for the transgressors.

The Messiah was the one interceding for us an advocate for us as sinners before a holy God. The Messiah took on his shoulders the sin of all who believe in him. It’s an encouraging prophecy of hope and a future. God is not just interested in forgiveness expressed in words but also demonstrated in actions. That’s why he took on the appearance of a servant and took the punishment that we deserve on himself.

The Jewish Sages thought Isaiah 53 was about the Messiah

It’s important to understand we’re not just talking about a Christian interpretation here – the Jewish Sages of ancient times also always interpreted Isaiah 53 to be about the Messiah. In fact, the well-known term “Messiah ben Yosef” is actually from this very text.

In the ancient Jewish translation of Yonatan ben Uzziel (Targum Jonathan) from the first century opened the section with the words “The Anointed Servant” that is to say Ben Uzziel connected the chapter to the Messiah, the Anointed One.

Rabbi Yitzhak Abravanel who lived centuries ago admitted that “Yonatan ben Uzziel’s interpretation that it was about the coming Messiah was also the opinion of the Sages (of blessed memory) as can be seen in much of their commentary.”

The Book of the Zohar recognizes the principle of substitution that the suffering of the Messiah would come to take the suffering that others deserved for their sins. On the verse “Surely He has borne our griefs”, the Book of the Zohar says, “There is in the Garden of Eden a palace named the Palace of the Sons of Sickness. This palace the Messiah enters, and He summons every pain and every chastisement of Israel: All of these come and rest upon Him. And were it not that he had thus lightened them off Israel and taken them upon himself, there had been no man able to bear Israel’s chastisements for the transgression of the law.”

Midrash Konen in discussing Isaiah 53 puts the following words in the mouth of Elijah the prophet: “Thus says the Messiah: Endure the sufferings and the sentence your Master who makes you suffer because of the sin of Yisroel. Thus it is written, “He was wounded because of our transgressions, he was crushed because of our iniquities”, until the time the end comes.”

Tractate Sanhedrin in the Babylonian Talmud (98b), writes about the name of the Messiah: “His name is ‘the leper scholar,’ as it is written, “Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows yet we did esteem him a leper, smitten of God, and afflicted”.

In Midrash Tanhuma it says, “Rabbi Nachman says, it speaks of no one but the Messiah, the Son of David of whom it is said, here a man called “the plant”, and Jonathan translated it to mean the Messiah and it is rightly said, “man of sorrows, acquainted with grief”.

Midrash Shumel says this about Isaiah 53: “The suffering was divided into three parts: One for the generation of the Patriarchs, one for the generation of Shmad, and one for the King Messiah”.

The prayers for Yom Kippur, the ones we all know also relates Isaiah 53 to the Messiah. The prayer added for Yom Kippur by Rabbi Eliezer around the time of the seventh century: “Our righteous Messiah has turned away from us we have acted foolishly and there is no one to justify us. Our iniquities and the yoke of our transgressions he bears and he is pierced for our transgressions. He carries our sins on his shoulder, to find forgiveness for our iniquities. By his wounds we are healed.”

The deeper we go into this prayer for Yom Kippur the more significant it gets. The prayer brings the sense that the Messiah left his people. “The righteous Messiah turned [away]”. That is to say, the Messiah has already come and left. Also, the Messiah suffered in the place of the people, and the sins of people were put on him then after the Messiah suffered, he left them that was the reason for their concern and so the people are praying for his return. A large part of this prayer is taken straight out of Isaiah 53, so from this we can prove that up to the 7th century the Jewish perception – also among the rabbis – was still that Isaiah 53 was about the Messiah.

In Genesis Rabbah, Rabbi Moshe haDarshan says that God enabled the Messiah to save souls but that together with that, he would suffer greatly. Also Maimonides relates Isaiah 53 to the Messiah in his Epistle to Yemen. Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai wrote, “And Messiah of Ephraim died there and Israel mourns for him as it is written: ‘He is despised and rejected of men’, and he goes back into hiding, for it says: ‘and we hid, as it were, our faces from him’.”

Also in Tractate Sotah 14, Midrash Rabbah Parasha 5, Midrash Tanhuma, Midrash Konen, Yalkut Shimoni and actually the whole Talmud always related the chapter to the Messiah, as did all the rabbis until about a thousand years ago. Everyone agreed that Isaiah 53 prophesies about the Messiah.

Rashi’s revision in the Middle Ages

Rashi lived, as we know, in Spain, at a time when Jews and Christians lived together and so naturally, arguments arose between them. Christian friends and neighbors of Rashi tried to convince him that Biblical prophecy pointed to Yeshua. Among other prophecies, they of course showed him Isaiah 53. Because the prophecy in Isaiah 53 is so sharp and clear, Rashi had no choice. He obviously didn’t want to admit that Yeshua was the Messiah, so he had to try to reinterpret the prophecy so that it was no longer about the Messiah but instead about the people of Israel. Rashi’s claim was that the suffering servant is a metaphor of the people of Israel who suffered at the hands of the gentiles.[*]

Many different rabbis – Gaon Rabbi Saadia, Rabbi Naphtali ben Asher, and Rabbi Moshe Alshich adamantly opposed Rashi’s new interpretation, and demanded that the Sages of Israel should ignore him and return to the original interpretation, the most famous of among them was Mamonides, who categorically declared that Rashi was completely mistaken.

But today, it is Rashi’s interpretation that is accepted among the rabbis who also are not interested in admitting that Yeshua could have been the Messiah who was rejected, suffered and died exactly as Isaiah prophesied.

A good example comes from Rabbi Haim Rettig, who writes, “Is it possible that any Christian anywhere in the world could fit the description of the Servant of the Lord that is led like a sheep to the slaughter? It cannot be that Isaiah the prophet could prophesy about a Christian event rather than a Jewish one. The prophecy of Isaiah is talking about the people of Israel throughout the generations, the Israel has given itself to be the innocent lamb”. What irony! Despite the fact that rabbis twisted Yeshua’s name into “Yeshu the Christian”, changing his name didn’t turn him into a Christian. The official religion of Christianity was only established in the third century. Yeshua was in fact Jewish, from the line of David, who lived here in Israel.

Also, when Rabbi Rettig claims that the prophecy of Isaiah 53 is not about the Messiah but about Israel, that gave itself up as an innocent lamb, can we really say that the people of Israel could be described as “an innocent lamb”? Innocent lamb is a Biblical definition for one without sin, who is blameless, spotless, never does evil and would never sin, but is perfect, pure and clean from sin. Does the people of Israel really this description? It’s enough just to open the paper or listen to the news to get your answer.

And since we’re talking about Isaiah the prophet, we’ll let Isaiah answer this question as well. Notice the words to the people of Israel just six chapters after chapter 53:

“For your hands are defiled with blood and your fingers with iniquity. Your lips have spoken lies, your tongue mutters wickedness. No one sues justly, and none pleads a case honestly. Their feet run after evil. They rush to shed innocent blood. Their thoughts are thoughts of iniquity. Violence and ruin are on their highways. They do not know the path of peace, and there is no justice in their tracks. They have made their paths crooked. Whoever walks in them will not experience shalom.”

One thing’s for sure, as far as Isaiah’s concerned Israel was no “innocent lamb”!

Here are a few more reasons that make it impossible for the chapter to be about Israel

The Suffering Servant is consistently presented as an individual and not as a plurality or collective noun, like a people group. Verse 8 says, “For the transgressions of My people He was stricken”. What people was Isaiah part of? The people of Israel, of course. So “my people” refers to the people of Israel. Therefore Israel cannot be the Suffering Servant of the Lord. If the people of Israel was the Servant of the Lord here, who would be “my people”?

Moreover, the Servant of the Lord suffers willingly submissively and without objection. The people of Israel have never suffered willingly! According to the Torah, the suffering of Israel was a result of sin not because of their righteousness whereas the Servant of the Lord suffered as a righteous person not because he had sinned The Servant of the Lord was guiltless but according to the Torah the people of Israel were always punished and suffered because of their sin and the gentiles didn’t get healing from God because Jewish people were persecuted.

The Servant of the Lord died in our place as a sacrifice for our sin. The people of Israel, on the other hand, didn’t suffer for the gentiles but because of their wickedness.

The Servant rose from the dead, but the people of Israel were never “cut off” completely and so could not “rise from the dead”. If the Servant of the Lord is Israel and not the Messiah, the concept of “Messiah ben Yosef” suddenly disappears as if it never existed.

In summary, we did wrong, the Messiah was punished. We sinned, and he suffered. We deserve death, and he was crucified in our place. A perfect God took on the likeness of a Servant in order to reveal himself to us as one of us. He allowed us to humiliate him, reject him, and to torture him to death in order to take our sins upon himself. So it’s also up to us to suffer for the good of others who sin against us. If God who is perfect can forgive us, imperfect as we are, how much more should we forgive one another? This is the wonderful message of the Suffering Servant: The God who loves us has done for us what we could never do for ourselves!

________

[*] Holwick: This article gives the impression that Rashi invented the "national" interpretation for Isaiah 53, but it had already been encountered in the early centuries of Christianity. In Origen's "Contra Celsum," written in 248, he writes of Isaiah 53 [emphasis by Holwick]:

I remember that once in a discussion with some whom the Jews regard as learned (i.e. Rabbis) I used these prophecies. At this the Jew said that these prophecies referred to the whole people as though of a single individual, since they were scattered in the dispersion and smitten, that as a result of the scattering of the Jews among the other nations many might become proselytes. In this way he explained the text: "Your form shall be inglorious among men" and "those to whom he was not proclaimed shall see him" and "being a man in calamity". I then adduced many arguments in the disputation which proved that there is no good reason for referring these prophecies about one individual to the whole people. And I asked which person could be referred to in the text: "This man bears our sins and suffers pain for us" and "but he was wounded for our transgressions and he was made sick for our iniquities;" and I asked which person fitted the words "by his strips we were healed." Obviously, those who say this were once in their sins, and were healed by the passion of the Savior, whether they were of the Jewish people or of the Gentiles: the prophet foresaw this, and put these words into their mouths by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. But we seemed to put Him in the greatest difficulty with the words "because of the iniquities of my people he was led to death". If according to them the people are the subject of the prophecy, why is this man said to have been led to death because of the iniquities of the people of God, if He is not different from the people of God? Who is this if not Jesus Christ, by whose strips we who believe in Him were healed, when he put off the principalities and powers among us, and made a show of them openly on the cross?

As pressure crested for the U.S. to restrain Israel from continuing further military offensive against its Palestinian neighbors, one bloc of Americans remained solidly in Israel's corner.

Evangelical Christians are steadfastly committed to Israel's efforts to keep its citizenry safe and its borders secure, said Richard Land, president of the SBC's Ethics & Religious Liberty Commission, despite the fact that a majority of Americans (68 percent) in a May 6 Gallup poll favor the U.S. remaining neutral in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. He said evangelicals recognize that Israel's right to its homeland is biblical.

Land said in the Los Angeles Times May 5 that in nearly every Southern Baptist church he visits, church members ask him to tell President Bush not to "abandon Israel" in the administration's efforts to secure peace in the Mideast. "It is very, very important to evangelicals that the U.S. continue to back Israel," he continued. "The Bible Belt is Israel's safety belt."

A survey cited by the Los Angeles Times revealed evangelical Protestants support pro-Israeli U.S. policy more strongly then the America public overall- 64 percent to 49 percent. A National Review Online commentator suggested evangelicals back Israel with an "uncritical fervor that exceeds that of even some American Jews."

Many people are unaware of why evangelicals are such staunch supporters of Israel, Land explained in a recent interview. "First of all, it's a matter of faith. It is a matter of our understanding and belief in the Bible that God gave this land to the Jews, the descendants of Isaac. Isaac is the child of promise and God is a keeper of His promises," he said.

In the book of Genesis, Land explained God told Abraham that his wife, Sara, would bear him a son, Isaac, who would be the son of promise and through whom the Jews would occupy the land of Canaan. God told Abraham He would bless Ishmael mightily but that He would establish the covenant with Isaac, Land said, reading from Genesis chapters 12 and 17.

"The Bible tells us that God gave that land to the descendants of Abraham through Isaac. That is the Jews, not the Arabs, who are descendants of Abraham through Ishmael," Land continued. "Both correctly claim Abraham as their father, but one is the child of covenant promise and one is not. Jesus came as a descendant of Isaac, not Ishmael."

While some observers say Israel's aggression threatens their covenant with God, Land disagrees. It is important to understand this was not a conditional blessing, he said. "God does judge his people when they are disobedient, but He always keeps His promises. God's covenant promise is unconditional. He promised He would bless those who bless the Jews and He would curse those who curse the Jews. And He promised He would give that land to the Jews forever."

Land said a cursory review of the history of the 20th century testifies to the validity of that biblical promise. "Look at the nations that have blessed the Jews and see how God has blessed them, chiefly the United States of America," he said. "Then consider the countries that have cursed the Jews: Germany-totally conquered, occupied and split right down the middle with 9 million Germans, military and civilian, killed during the war. The Soviet Union with its terrible history of anti-Semitism was invaded by the Germans and lost 20 million people in World War II and now is economically decimated by nearly a century of atheistic communism."

The absence of Jews in Palestine early in the last century was a fact that did not go unnoticed by critics of biblical prophecy, Land said, noting that the presence now of a powerful state of Israel hushed those who once mocked Scripture's prophecy about the Jews' return to their land of promise.

"Through the prophets, God said the Jews would be scattered and then return to their promised land. They started coming back in the 20th century; and then after Nazi Germany's horrible attempt to annihilate them, hundreds of thousands of Jewish refugees came back to the homeland God had promised them. Now there are over five million Jews who live in the biblical land of Israel," he said.

"The Jews have the God-given right to be in the land of Israel," he said. "The Bible makes that very clear in Genesis chapters 12 and 17," Land continued.

"America's support for Israel is a matter of blessing for us. Whether or not we support Israel and their right to exist in the land, God is going to take care of Israel," he said. "If the U.S. doesn't support Israel, Israel will still be there because Israel has a more powerful ally than the United States of America -- the Lion of Judah, God Almighty. It is America that will suffer."

Land said if America turns on Israel by helping her enemies, God will not bless the U.S. He warns that the kind of peace the Israelis and most Americans want in the Middle East will not be found until the U.S. puts sufficient pressure on Arab governments to cease the campaign of "vicious anti-Semitism" that they are promoting through their government-controlled media outlets.

Land was the lead signatory on a recent letter to President Bush decrying the overt anti-Semitism that is now commonplace in the Middle East and Europe. "It must stop. It must be tirelessly and publicly denounced," the letter said of anti-Semitism. Jay Sekulow of the American Center for Law and Justice, talk show host Janet Parshall and Gary Bauer were among those who also signed the letter.

"It should not be business as usual with these countries that pour out this virulent stream of anti-Semitism," Land concluded.

*

CAMBRIDGE, Mass. (AP) - After Steve Bickel finishes worshipping at his synagogue every Sabbath, he and his wife Eliyana have to do a little more praying. They pray their twin 2-year-olds won't be too tired to walk home - because if Bickel or his wife had to carry them, it would be a violation of Jewish law.

At least, it will be until the eruv is built.

For eight years, the Bickels and other Orthodox Jews have been working to build a wall of wires and other existing boundaries around their communities in Cambridge and Somerville to form an eruv - a giant, symbolic household.

Though many non-Jews who live and work within an eruv might never notice it, for Orthodox Jews such as the Bickels, it is of great significance.

Jewish law forbids the Orthodox from 39 forms of "creative labor" on the Jewish day of rest. That includes carrying children, pushing strollers and wheelchairs and bringing prayer books to services.

However, Jewish law allows them to carry items within their own household. So unifying the neighborhood into a symbolic household, or an eruv, makes it permissible to do those things within the boundary.

"It's a chance to see people and catch up, and it's the glue that binds the community," Bickel said. "Places that have eruvim, they have an advantage. Kids can go out and play ball. Young mothers can visit people. So they consider and often move to places that do have an eruv."

An eruv's "walls" usually consist of a piece of wire, twine or pre-existing boundaries such as fences and sea walls. But it can take years of planning and thousands of dollars for one to be constructed.

Bickel and other Orthodox Jews in Cambridge and Somerville are hoping to finish construction on their eruv by the beginning of 2001 - nine years after the project began.

It's worth the time and effort, Bickel says.

Eruvim have already been constructed in cities such as Atlanta, Baltimore, Cleveland, Miami, New York, St. Louis, Paris and Sydney, Australia.

Most visitors to those cities would never know they were within eruvim.

By Jewish law, the boundary must be at least 38 inches off the ground, but many are much higher. Some are unobtrusively strung near the tops of telephone or utility poles.

The group behind Bickel's eruv has been working on and off since 1993. It needs to get permission not only from the two cities which will be encompassed by the eruv, but also from all the organizations on whose property they plan to place the boundary.

Since several of those organizations, like the Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority, require a plan drawn up by an engineer before they issue approval, the process gets more lengthy and costly. The group has raised $74,000, and hopes that will be enough.

Most eruvim have not faced much resistance. In Cambridge, Bickel says he's often had to explain what an eruv is, but generally people are respectful of his religious practices.

"In some ways, the most cynicism we get is from people who consider themselves as part of the Jewish community but not part of the Orthodox community," Bickel says. "They think it's ridiculous, or that it will cause embarrassment. They see this as kind of medieval."

Eruvim history goes back about 2000 years. They are mentioned in the codes of Jewish Law dating back to the first century.

Most of the existing eruvim were created in the 1980s and 1990s. Some cover an area of almost 20 miles, and serve thousands of Orthodox Jews.

Some Orthodox Jews, however, don't accept an eruv as a valid justification to violate the prohibitions on the Sabbath.

Bickel says he sees no reason not to make life easier for himself and his family.

"Judaism is a legal-based system, and because of that it has all the trappings of any legal system - including loopholes," Bickel says. "That's how any legal system makes peace with the dilemmas it has."

“But it is not that the word of God has taken no effect. For they [are] not all Israel who [are] of Israel, nor [are they] all children because they are the seed of Abraham; but, ‘In Isaac your seed shall be called.’” (Romans 9:6-7 NKJV)

The True Seed Of Abraham — Line Of Isaac

• hath…effect — Num 23:19, Rom 3:3, 11:1-2, 5, Luke 1:68-70 — in convincing and enlightening concerning Christ as the true Messiah

• not…Israel — Rom 2:28-29 — not all possessed of the general characteristics of the nation — pride, obduracy, etc. [Or, not all of Israel’s (Jacob’s) descendants are part of God’s true Israel, in the same fashion that not all Abraham’s children, etc. — RGH]

• which [who]…Israel — which are of that nation; since some have believed and are saved — John 1:47, Ps 73:1 — [Or, although all Israel was called, God’s word was only received through election by the faithful remnant. — RGH]

• because…Abraham, lineally descended fr. the father of the faithful — Rom 4:16

• are…children — Gal 6:16 — true,

spiritual descendants

• but…called — Gen 17:20-21, 21:12 — reckoned the children of Abraham externally: for some of his descendants came through the line of Ishmael

The work of God’s Word — Rev. S. Martin

I. The Gospel, a mighty cause. We may expect it to be so, and to continue so:

1. If we look at its nature;

2. The commission issued respecting its preaching;

3. If we connect with our Saviour’s promise to be present with the preacher, the extraordinary ministry of the Holy Ghost;

4. If we consider the representations given concerning it;

5. If we notice its first effects as recorded in our N. T., and its subsequent effects as chronicled in uninspired writings; or if we look at all which it is doing now.

II. What these effects are:

1. The effect is like unstopping deaf ears;

2. It is to loose the dumb tongue;

3. To strengthen the arms for work and conflict;

4. Cleansing the hands from all sins;

5. Restoring sensation and motion to withered and exhausted nerves;

6. A complete change of the heart.

Number of Jews in the World [These are figures circa 1880! — RGH] — Having taken special pains within the last twelve years to collect carefully from missionary statistics, furnished by the missionaries among the Jews throughout the world — missionaries numbering at least two hundred and fifty, a source the most reliable — I take a pleasure in furnishing a table in a specified order, as to the actual numbers already known:-

China, including Ka-fungfu, 60,000;

Russian Possessions in Asia, 3,000;

Russia Proper, 1,200,000;

Poland, 2,200,000;

Prussia Proper, 135,000;

Austria, 453,524;

Confederate States of Germany, 138,000;

Amsterdam in Holland, 35,000;

The Netherlands, 50,000;

France, 81,000;

Italy, 200,000;

England, 60,000;

Ionian Isles, 7,000;

Danish States, 15,000;

Sweden, 1,700;

Switzerland, 1,900;

Gibraltar, 4,000;

Galatia, 200,000;

Netherlandish Colonies, 500;

Kingston, West Indies, 5,000;

Demarara, Esequibo, 200;

New Holland, 50;

St. Domingo, 5,000;

Porto Rico, 3,300;

North America, 700,000;

South America, 10,000;

Fez, in Africa and Morocco, 300,000;

Tunis, 130,000;

Algiers, 30,000;

Habesh, 20,000;

Tripoli, 12,000;

Egypt, 12,000;

in the Turkish Dominions in Europe and Asia there are 2,500,000;

besides those in the East, at least 7,000,000:

grand total, 15,573,194. — S. Bonhomme

“This proflteth them no more than it did Dives that Abraham called him son.” — Trapp

“It was a false confidence the Jews did nourish, that they should dwell securely in their land, notwithstanding their provocations, because the worship and the House of God was in it, as if the Temple were a sanctuary for those that did profane it, and the horns of the altar would secure them, when it was the blood upon the altar called for vengeance.” — Dr Allestry

Mel Gibson’s THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST is reminding me more each day of the O.J. Simpson trial. Back then, white and black friends I deeply respected talked past each other, utterly unable to understand each other's viewpoints. The lenses through which most blacks and whites saw the trial were so very different that interracial conversations, even among friends, became difficult.

I fear something similar is happening with The Passion. Most of my Jewish friends have had violently different reactions from many of my Christian friends. Many Jews profess no interest in seeing the film at all. And on the message boards of Beliefnet, I see a widespread sense that the other faith simply “doesn’t get it.”

Perhaps we can improve this dynamic if we take stock of the differing world views involved.

What Jews tend not to understand about the Christian response:

1) Christ's suffering is important

Many Jews (and some Christians) have criticized the movie on the grounds that the violence is gratuitous, unspiritual, and misses the point of Christianity. “He virtually ignores the entire life of Jesus, preferring instead to tell us that what made Jesus special was not that he lived righteously and meekly, but that he died bloodily,” Rabbi Shmuley Boteach writes.

What Jews fail to realize is that for many Christians the death -- and the suffering -- is as important as the life of Christ. Christians believe that Jesus died so that sin wouldn’t destine humanity to hell. Three postings from Beliefnet members capture just how powerful that message is:

“Every time he was hit and beaten and spit upon, I flinched because I knew it should have been me those things were happening to but he took my place.”

-- ToGodThruJesus [these are internet names]

“I walked out of the theater with a tear-streaked face, a broken heart and a renewed purpose: to make sure that I do not let the blood that was shed for me be in vain.”

-- anointed prophetess

“Life has me down. I won’t go into details. We all have our ‘crosses’ to bear’. But that is just it. I do not truly bear a cross. Christ did that. For me.”

-- Dharmadel

The movie's violence brings many Christians into Jesus' world and helps show just how much he had to give up in order to give us the gift. In that sense, the violence is extremely spiritual.

2) Most of this really is in the Bible

Gibson certainly inflamed the situation by adding all sorts of new material, but the core elements of the movie -- including the parts that have been used against Jews in the past -- are, indeed, in the Bible. According to the Gospels:

• Caiaphas and the other Jewish priests did plot to kill Jesus.

• Pilate was, in fact, reluctant to crucify Jesus.

• The priests did strike Jesus. (Mark 14:65)

• The crowd did cry “crucify him!”

It is quite possible that much of what’s in the Bible is not historically accurate but Jews need to understand that when they say that this basic plotline is anti-Semitic they are saying the New Testament itself is anti-Semitic and hateful.

3) Most Christians don’t even entertain the question of blame

Most Christians believe that Jesus went to his death willingly, so the identity of the killers is utterly irrelevant. Jews are sensitive to being blamed because they have been, but they also need to realize that most modern American Christians view that as a peculiar sideshow. By expressing so much anxiety about being blamed, Jews give the impression that they think anti-Semitism is pervasive and always ready to explode.

Most Christians view Hitler and others who twisted Christianity to justify hatred as diabolical. As one Beliefnet member put it, “I find it frustrating to be told that my perceptions (and that of all us Christians who read this story every year in church) are no different from a deranged dictator or someone from the Middle Ages.”

Christians need to be able to love the movie without feeling that Jews will therefore view them as anti-Semitic.

4) Christians feel persecuted

This may be the hardest one of all for Jews to understand. How can the majority religion in a religiously free country feel persecuted just because people are raising questions about this movie? But any given individual Christian may feel like his or her personal relationship with Jesus -- that which gives them hope and strength -- is being challenged. When Jews criticize the movie, they need to realize that, unless carefully worded, their complaints will feel like not merely theological disputes but personal insults and attacks.

============================================

What most Christians tend to not understand about the Jewish reaction:

1) Mel Gibson is terrifying

Christians need to understand just how scary a person Mel Gibson is to Jews. The comments from his father Hutton Gibson don’t represent ordinary country-club anti-Semitism but David Duke, neo-Nazi anti-Semitism. Of the Holocaust, Hutton Gibson said, “It’s all -- maybe not all fiction -- but most of it is.” The Jews, he said, “weren’t killed, they simply got up and left! They were all over the Bronx and Brooklyn and Sydney and Los Angeles. They have to ... go where's there's money.” While no one expects the son to repudiate the father, it’s terrifying to many Jews that one of Gibson’s defenses of his dad was that “My father has never told me a lie.”

Gibson’s own comments have not been terribly reassuring. “Yes, of course. Atrocities happened. War is horrible. The Second World War killed tens of millions of people.” This “s--t happens” view makes Jews feel like Gibson still doesn’t get it.

Worse, Gibson seems to be actively inflaming matters by casting his critics as opponents of Christianity. Before the movie opened, Gibson said, “There is vehement anti-Christian sentiment out there, and they don't want it. It's vicious.” On Jay Leno he said he would try to forgive even “those who persecute you,” and said he was being “picked on.” That he would choose to cast criticism of his movie as “anti-Christian” is terrifying to Jews, who view that as a first step toward demonizing them.

2) This is not ancient history

Bill Donohue, the respected head of the Catholic League for Religious and Civil Rights, has said, “Those who are sounding the alarms over anti-Semitic violence are historically ignorant: the last time Jews were assaulted after the production of a Passion Play was in the Middle Ages.” A number of posts on Beliefnet’s message boards encouraged Jews to stop “whining” since the horrible misuse of Passion plays happened in the distant past.

But there are enough directly relevant examples of far more recent anti-Semitism to make Jews worry. “One of our most important tasks will be to save future generations from a similar political fate and to remain forever watchful in the knowledge of the menace of Jewry,” said Adolph Hitler on July 5, 1942. “For this reason alone it is vital that the Passion Play be continued at Oberammergau; for never has the menace of Jewry been so convincingly portrayed as in this presentation of what happened in the times of the Romans.”

Beliefnet member Shira writes, “My father could not go near a Catholic school around Easter because he knew he was going to get beaten up.” It wasn’t until 1965 that the Catholic Church officially declared that the entire Jewish people were not guilty of deicide. Moreover, anti-Semitism is right now on the rise in Europe and the Mideast.

Though the Passion has so far not led to violence or even widespread negative commentary against Jews, there’s been enough to make Jews nervous. A church sign went up soon after the opening saying “The Jews killed Christ. Settled.” Relatively few posts on Beliefnet have been anti-Semitic but the exceptions are chilling:

“The past cannot be changed, so those crying foul should deal with it and keep their accusations to themselves. Could it simply be because Hollywood is primarily Jewish controlled that these anti-Semitic cries are being heard?” Or, “Let’s give up the anti-Jew kick. The whole world is done with that. It has been shoved down our throats long enough.”

3) Christian support of Israel is irrelevant

On July 24, after seeing a screening of the film, the Rev. Ted Haggard, president of the National Association of Evangelicals, commented: “There is a great deal of pressure on Israel right now, and Christians seem to be a major source of support for Israel. For the Jewish leaders to risk alienating 2 billion Christians over a movie seems shortsighted.” One Beliefnet member gently reassured Jews that Christians would not turn on Jews because “born again Christians are the best friend Israel and the Jew has.”

Obviously, supporting Israel does not give anyone a free pass to tolerate anti-Semitism in other realms. Besides, while most Jews delight in and appreciate Christian support for Israel they are also quite aware of their mixed motives. (Many evangelicals support Israel because they believe the nation is a necessary precondition for the apocalypse and the Second Coming of Jesus.)

The Passion has already exposed some deep, closeted misunderstandings between some Christians and Jews. Whether the movie will become a positive or negative force will depend largely on whether we keep talking past each other or attempt to actually see the film through the eyes of the other.

*

Sermon in Romans series, #14. Romans 11:25-29

GOD'S PLAN FOR ISRAEL

=====================

I. Where's the proof?

A. Jews are a miracle of history.

B. God's plan has been hard.

II. Four theories on God's plan for Jews.

A. Replacement theology - Church takes over, Israel is obsolete.

B. Dispensationalism - Israel has a short role in future.

C. Two covenant - Both are separate tracts to heaven.

D. One covenant - God is bringing both groups together.

III. Paul's points.

A. God has not rejected the Jews. 11:1

B. The situation promotes Gentile evangelism. 11:11

C. Final fulfillment is the conversion of Israel. 11:26

IV. When will it happen?

A. There have always been a few Jewish converts.

B. But the final revival is tied to the Second Coming.

V. Have you looked on him?

Denying a Jerusalem Post story that said he had embraced a “dual covenant” theology, Southern Baptist pastor Jerry Falwell said March 1 that he believes all people, including Jews, “must believe in the Lord Jesus Christ in order to enter heaven.”

“I do not follow this teaching of ‘dual covenant’ theology and I believe it runs counter to the Gospel,” Falwell said in a statement posted on www.falwell.com. “I have been on record all 54 years of my ministry as being opposed to ‘dual covenant' theology.”

Rejected by orthodox theologians, dual covenant theology holds that Jews are saved through a special, unique relationship with God and need not trust in Christ for salvation.

The Jerusalem Post story, published March 1, said that pastor John Hagee and Rabbi Aryeh Scheinberg -- both from Texas -- had “apparently persuaded” Falwell to adopt a dual covenant belief system. The story quoted only Scheinberg and did not quote Falwell.

“Falwell has altered his position, according to Scheinberg, apparently because the pastor decided to put End of Days theology aside in favor of the overriding need to support Israel, particularly against the mounting threat of a nuclear Iran,” the story, authored by Ilam Chaim, said.

The story noted that dual covenant theology “runs counter to mainstream evangelism.”

But a March 2 story Jerusalem Post story said that Hagee had contacted the Post to say that he also doesn't believe in a “dual covenant.”

“In a statement to the Post, the Texas-based televangelist Hagee said that neither he nor Southern Baptist pastor Falwell 'believe or teach dual covenant,” The Post reported.

Falwell’s complete statement follows:

“Earlier today, reports began circulating across the globe that I have recently stated that Jews can go to heaven without being converted to Jesus Christ. This is categorically untrue.

“These false reports originated from a March 1 Jerusalem Post front page column which said: ‘An evangelical pastor and an Orthodox rabbi, both from Texas, have apparently persuaded leading Baptist preacher Jerry Falwell that Jews can get to heaven without being converted to Christianity. Televangelist John Hagee and Rabbi Aryeh Scheinberg, whose Cornerstone Church and Rodfei Sholom congregations are based in San Antonio, told The Jerusalem Post that Falwell had adopted Hagee's innovative belief in what Christians refer to as ‘dual covenant’ theology. This creed, which runs counter to mainstream evangelism, maintains that the Jewish people have a special relationship to God through the revelation at Sinai and therefore do not need ‘to go through Christ or the Cross’ to get to heaven.’

“While I am a strong supporter of the State of Israel and dearly love the Jewish people and believe them to be the chosen people of God, I continue to stand on the foundational biblical principle that all people -- Baptists, Methodists, Pentecostals, Jews, Muslims, etc. -- must believe in the Lord Jesus Christ in order to enter heaven.

“Dr. Hagee called me today and said he never made these statements to the Jerusalem Post or to anyone else. He assured me that he would immediately contact the Jerusalem Post and request a correction. Before today, I had never heard of Rabbi Aryeh Scheinberg or had any communications with him. I therefore am at a total loss as to why he would make such statements about me to the Post, if in fact he did.

“In this age of political correctness and diversity, the traditional evangelical belief that salvation is available only through faith in the death, burial and resurrection of Christ is often portrayed as closed-minded and bigoted. But if one is to believe in Jesus Christ, he must believe in His words: 'I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man comes unto the Father but by Me' (John 14:6). I simply cannot alter my belief that Jesus is The Way to heaven, as He taught.

“Again, I do not follow this teaching of 'dual covenant' theology and I believe it runs counter to the Gospel.

“I have been on record all 54 years of my ministry as being opposed to ‘dual covenant’ theology. In fact, Dr. John Hagee has indicated to me, as recently as today, that he likewise does not accept ‘dual covenant’ theology.

“I want to reaffirm that I am a Zionist in terms of Israel’s entitlement to its homeland. I continue to pray daily for the peace of Jerusalem, as the Bible instructs Christians to do. And I have dedicated my life and ministry to working for the peace of Israel. I dearly cherish the highly esteemed Jabotinsky Award which was given me in 1981 by Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin. I have led thousands of pilgrims through the Land Of Israel during my 31 tours over 36 years. I seriously believe that few Americans have invested more time and resources in the defense of Israel in this generation.

“However, I simply cannot alter my deeply-held belief in the exclusivity of salvation through the Gospel of Christ for the sake of political or theological expediency.

“Like the Apostle Paul, I pray daily for the salvation of everyone, including the Jewish people.”

*

Not every non-Christian supports efforts to hinder Christianity in America. Rabbi Daniel Lapin of The American Alliance of Jews and Christianity said that he believes it is in “paramount” Jewish interest to support Christians in their defense of Christianity.

“As an orthodox Jewish rabbi, I know that nowhere in the past 2,000 years have Jews enjoyed as lengthy, as prosperous and tranquil a stay as here in the United States of America,” he said. “And I believe passionately that this is not in spite of the vitality of Christianity in America and its centrality in American civilization.”

He added, “Unlike Europe, with it seemingly insurmountable problems, thank God America is a Christian nation as I see it.”

________

Christian Post Reporter

I feel the most Jewish at Christmastime. Gold tinsel, store-bought imitation trees, Star Trek ornaments, electric lights strung along suburban rooftops, disturb my peace and spiritual equilibrium. Surprisingly, it is not the underlying materialism that shatters my connection to the larger American society. Materialism knows no boundaries in the post-modern culture; December might be its brightest month, but as both a philosophy and a way of life it lives on throughout the year in changing disguises. Hallmark has a card for every holiday, both secular and sacred, and new holidays are born each year.

No, it is not the crass commercialism surrounding the celebration of the birth of Christ that sets my soul on a course toward despondency and deeper reflection (I think best when I feel blue). Nor is it the physical impact of the season on the human psyche. Whereas others experience depression because of the advance of night over the daylight, I actually enjoy the whites and blacks of winter, and invite the retreat which falling temperatures bring upon my lifestyle. After all, one best enjoys a cup of hot chocolate after being out in the snow, and not in the heat of July. The winter night is the most beautiful as far as constellation gazing is concerned; life would be impoverished without brawny Orion hunting over us as Gemini arcs across the sky and the Pleiades sparkle only for those who have eyes to see.

No, it is the Christmas observance itself that promotes the ironic juxtaposition of darkness and light, sadness and joy, oppression and liberation, within my soul. It is the words of Matthew and Luke which make me feel alienated from others, and alien to the Christian church. It is the story’s narrative which unfailingly reminds me that I am Jewish, and taunts me with the awful truth that no matter how long I live among gentiles, I will forever be Jewish.

When I read of the engagement drama of Joseph and Mary, the years of waiting for the prophet Simeon to behold the Messiah in an existential way, the drivenness of the Persian astrologers to discover the meaning of a star which might unlock some valuable wisdom, the pained longing of Zechariah and Elizabeth as they wonder why their faithfulness has not brought them an heir, I feel the weight of their forlorn shoulders, the burden of hopes deferred, and wishes expressed only in secret to a God who hears the yearnings of humanity. But beyond their individual misery, I connect with (as they surely did) the collective journey of a people living under oppression, for as benevolent as the Romans could be, they nevertheless were imperialistic dominators of conquered people.

The stories of Jesus’ birth make no sense outside the context of Roman hegemony and might, and the resultant Jewish humility and periodic defiance. Matthew, a Jew writing about Jesus to Jewish Christians, records a dark story of Herod’s curiosity that leads to the catastrophic slaughter of young Jewish boys. Jesus was not only a Jew who died, but from the beginning of his life Jews died because of him even though they did not deserve such a fate. Every sympathetic character in Luke’s birth narrative expresses a yearning for God’s deliverance and salvation in light of the Jewish nation’s lack of freedom. The birth of Jesus represents God’s response to such pained pleas, just as the cries of the Jewish slaves caused Yahweh to reveal himself to Moses, and anoint him to deliver them from a gentile Pharaoh’s grip. Rather than symbolizing God’s turning his back on Jews, the Christmas story reaffirms the Lord’s steadfast solidarity with a nation and people He chose. He has not forgotten how to respond to their prayers. Though the night seems dark, God’s light still leaves heaven and journeys to earth to impart judgment upon the nations, and mercy upon a powerless people.

When Advent arrives and churches read the stories of the birth of Jesus, Matthew and Luke are not allowed to speak on their own terms. Their perspective is whitewashed or ignored. In place of elderly people doubting God’s abiding presence as they watch their grandchildren meet their destiny at the edge of a Roman spear, we stage elaborate pageants filled with cute children who fumble onstage and cause audiences of relatives to laugh. An antiseptic homeliness replaces the struggle of a people to survive while the odds are stacked against them. Jesus is adored as a baby (we like our gods to be cute and non-threatening), but the Jewish babies who prematurely suffer death soon after the Savior is born receive scarcely any attention – when was the last time you heard a preacher use Matthew 2:13-18 as an Advent season sermon text? These guileless innocents are sacrificed so that the Savior may live (in modern military prose, they are collateral civilian damage). Rather than laughing with children, the Christmas story urges us to cry with the mothers, the daughters of Rachel.

In contrast to the gentile custom of giving one another presents, in the original Jewish telling of Christmas, there is no gift giving, with the exception of the offerings brought to Jesus by the pagan astrologers. Today, we use God to meet one another’s desires, while in the first Christmas, only Jesus receives something material. Mary and Joseph, and Zechariah and Elizabeth, receive sons, while others receive spiritual consolation.

All the Jews in the narratives respond to Jesus’ birth with words, not material possessions. These words recount God’s deeds. They tell of dreams and visions received (and as Joel’s prophecy tells us, dreams and visions are symbolic of God’s communication with his people). God is still in touch and revealing himself in the midst of the misery of first century Jewish life. Their words also affirm hope; the messianic expectations represent an abiding confidence in a God who works through the journey of the Jewish people. Whatever celebration there is in the narrative – and there is not that much, angst and uncertainty are just as prominent – focuses on such spiritual concerns as forgiveness of sins and God’s blessing of the poor. Jewish faith and patience, not green wreaths and red bows, adorn the story with color and beauty.

I have no recollection of ever hearing the Christmas story as a child. In place of Santa Claus, we were nurtured on the miraculous story of Chanukah. How ironic it seems to me that this Jewish tale of God’s miraculous deliverance and miracle working power is closer in meaning to the Biblical Christmas than our modern substitutes (such as Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, which is really the spirit behind the Christmas most Westerners know).

My family was not orthodox, but our circle of friends was fairly constricted. When we moved from New York City to Farmingdale, Long Island in 1963 (when I was 7 years old), we were surrounded by gentile neighbors for the first time; only one other Jewish family lived on our block. None of these neighbors had any positive impact on my evolving spiritual consciousness (in the sense of teaching me about the Christian faith); in fact, quite the opposite was true.

The only childhood Christmas lesson my neighborhood provided me with was the fact that being Jewish meant that I was an outsider. This is, of course, implicit in the original Biblical presentation, but in that story, the Romans, and not Christians, are the teachers. That lesson was taught one Chanukah celebration, without the use of words. The instructional aid was a milk carton, filled with mud, which was strategically balanced on top of our front screen door and the side of our house. Responding to the ringing of our bell, I just missed being hit on the head by the milk carton and its brown contents. In the blackness outside, I heard children laughing.

During the daytime, no doubt some, if not all, of these youngsters acted as if they were my playmates. I learned early on that anti-semitism is often expressed not only by one’s enemies, but also by one’s friends. The majority culture wants minorities (both racial and religious) to know their place, and that place is not in the inner circle, no matter how one is treated superficially or in public. Most anti-semites know better than to express their prejudice to a Jew’s face; most people prefer more indirect ways to make their point.

My public school experience in Farmingdale also served to reinforce this lesson of being on the outside. I don’t recall enduring classroom prayer as a child, but I do remember my childhood anger when the school concert featured songs that were explicitly Christian. No doubt the intent was to affirm the religious nature of Christmas and to instill positive values, but I came away feeling disenfranchised and excluded. The conclusion I drew was that American society tolerated the presence of Jews, but that being fully Jewish and American at the same time was problematic, if not impossible.

Like David, Jeremiah and John the Baptist, I cannot remember a time when I lacked faith in the God of the Jews. It is not that I responded to teachings with a positive spirit, for I never attended Hebrew school and visited the synagogue with family on the rarest of occasions. My family did not belong to the temple (my father explained that we could not afford the membership fee). My older brother took elementary Hebrew lessons for a short time, and I remember looking at his simple book with jealousy and affection. But his lessons did not last long, and I had to wait until my seminary days to study the language of my own people. My faith in God functioned more like a presupposition; it was always there and embraced without question.

Two influences encouraged and supported the growth of this faith: books and the existence of Israel as an independent, fledgling nation.

Elie Wiesel recounts the key role the love of reading played in his childhood and ties this love to Jewish culture:

My father had books in his grocery store. While waiting for customers, he would open one and read - and smile. I shall never forget his smile. He was not alone in living with such passion for books; most Jews in my town, and in all Jewish towns, shared that passion. Idleness was the greatest of sins. You have nothing to do? A father would admonish his son: take a book - any book ... If I had to describe hell, it would be a place without books. What would life be without their appeal to our fantasy, without their power to change things simply by revealing their hidden message? (Kingdom of Memory, pages 40, 44-46)

If I’ve inherited anything from my father, it is the love of books – both owning them and reading them. During childhood the library was my playground. My taste was indiscriminate and wide-ranging, as long as the book was non-fiction. History, geography, every kind of science, philosophy, biography and psychology books piqued my interest the most. Books were literally my windows to the world, since my family never traveled outside of New York. I dreamed of traveling to distant places as I peeked at pictures of the Kremlin, the Eiffel Tower, Mt. Fuji, and the Egyptian pyramids. I tried to rise above my intellectual limits by tackling physics books replete with formulas that made no sense. Einstein was a hero, even if his math was incomprehensible! Plato and Aristotle, with their rival philosophies, battled for my allegiance, and taught me to never be satisfied with the first answer that comes to one’s mind. The physical universe and the human soul do not reveal their structure and essence without a fight; the lazy of mind do not ask either the right questions or guess the right answers to life’s mysteries. The explorer must search, the researcher must probe, and the wise must prove to lady wisdom that he is a worthy groom. I came to the conviction that the only intellectual failure a student of knowledge, or a seeker of wisdom, can make is to refuse to push past the cover of a book.

Of all the hundreds of books I devoured as a pre-adolescent, the astronomy texts held a near sacred place in my heart. It took me almost twenty years to complete my pilgrimage to Mt. Palomar from the time I first read about its huge mirror that held the power to see into the depths of space, but I fantasized about receiving the privilege to guide that awesome telescope toward unknown mysteries. The night sky mystified me. Its beauty dazzled my imagination. I knew the constellations were mere human projections from ancient cultures, but I could not help but be attracted to the mythological tales that accompanied the patterns found in each astronomical work. My love for discerning patterns in life stems from this childhood fascination with identifying constellations referred to in the star guides.

Staring at the night sky was akin to praying. Long after my peers were asleep in their homes, I would remain outside by myself and stare for hours at the slow movement of the white points of distant light. Their slow trek across the dark expanse spoke to me. I may be a small part of the universe, but as long as I perceive the flow, life would be profoundly meaningful. As a Jew, I never once gave credence to the pantheistic notion that nature is divine; the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob had to be more than helium! But as the creator all of all things, the heavens demonstrated the mastery of God’s artistry; the beauty of the sky above my head invited me into a form of mysticism sanctioned by Psalm 19: “The heavens declare the glory of God, the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech, night after night they display knowledge.”

The point of this mystical experience is succinctly stated by Paul, who rightly condemns idolatry – the worshipping of creation or its parts instead of the creator God who stands behind it all: “For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities – his eternal power and divine nature – have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse” (Romans 1:20).

The mystic in me combined forces with the historian and lover of books. The God who in Genesis claims credit for creation is none other than the God who chooses the Jewish people in Exodus. The cosmic God is the God of human history, who manifests his character and power on behalf of an enslaved race. Furthermore, he is the author of a sacred book which records his ongoing concern for his people, which is expressed in the form of a covenant. The covenant calls for faithfulness and devotion from the chosen people, the Jews. In brief, this was the state of my Judaic understanding as a youth.

The historical and prophetic portions of the Old Testament defined the outlines of my conscious faith. The historical books provided me with a confidence in the ability of the Jewish God to defend his people from oppression and assimilation. This confidence expressed itself in a Zionist manner, especially in light of the six day war between Israel and its Arab neighbors in 1967. I initially learned of the outbreak of the war as I tinkered with an old tube short-wave radio. Fear filled my soul as I tuned into Radio Moscow and heard the newscast that announced the beginnings of conflict. Anxiety turned to pride as the war ended as quickly as it had begun, with Israel handing a stunning defeat to an enemy with superior numbers. In my youthful mind, there was no doubt that the God who delivered Israel from Pharaoh had pulled off a similar miracle in the modern age.

The prophets inspired hope. I believed in the future painted by Isaiah and Ezekiel. Israel would stand as an independent nation under God, and the nations of the world would realize that the Jewish God is also the universal sovereign. Ezekiel’s prophecies concerning the resurrection of the valley of dry bones (chapter 37) and God’s defeat of Israel’s enemies (chapters 38-39) were my personal favorites. Not only did Ezekiel introduce me to a new form of mysticism, but he also provided me with a messianic consciousness to go along with my Zionist political perspective.

Ezekiel’s mysticism is introduced as early as chapter one, which became the basis for a school of Jewish mysticism centered on discovering the glory of God. This heavenly throne mysticism is called Merkabah. Ezekiel picks up this theme again in chapters 40-48. In chapter 37, Ezekiel speaks of a mystical trip into “the middle of a valley” which enables him to participate in God’s redemptive activity. I took the chapter to refer to Israel’s re-emergence as a nation in 1948. I further understood verses 24-25 to refer to the hoped for Jewish messiah, whose identity was still unrevealed:

“My servant David will be king over them, and they will all have one shepherd. They will follow my laws and be careful to keep my decrees. They will live in the land I gave to my servant Jacob, the land where your fathers lived. They and their children and their children’s children will live there forever, and David my servant will be their prince forever.”

The promised messianic age would be preceded by one last display of God’s power against Israel’s arrogant enemies (chapters 38-39): “And so I will show my greatness and holiness, and I will make myself known in the sight of many nations. Then they will know that I am the LORD” (38:23).

All of this came alive for me in a mystical way when I was about seven years old. I had a dream, no doubt inspired by my reading of Ezekiel’s vision. In the dream, I am transported to Israel, and stand on the mountains described in chapters 38-39. I vividly recall seeing the antagonist armies of the gentile nations – thousands upon thousands of men. Looking up toward the sky, I am amazed to see a man riding on a white war horse! Behind him are hosts of other angelic combatants who are following him earthward. I point to the one in front, and shout, “That’s my messiah!” The dream ended at that moment.

Most children have imaginative dreams that flow from the normal course of childhood experiences, but there was something about this dream that convinced me to view it as a spiritual communication. It felt sacred, numinous, and mystical. The dream transcended the ordinary in its intensity and authenticity. Instinctively, I decided not to tell anyone about it, and considered it a secret present from God.

Ezekiel’s vision of the restoration of Israel contained within it a problem that resonated with another side of my personal journey – the problem of sin and forgiveness. In the vision of the two sticks united together (Ezekiel 37:15-28), God declares, “I will save them from all their sinful backsliding, and I will cleanse them. They will be my people, and I will be their God.” Similarly, after the climactic battle described in the following two chapters, God judges Israel’s journey in rather startling terms: “And the nations will know that the people of Israel went into exile for their sin, because they were unfaithful to me” (Ezekiel 39:23).

A secret war waged in my soul as I made my way through elementary school and into junior high. My intellectual precociousness and sharp tongue convinced most peers to refrain from arguing with me, and so I turned my critical gaze to intellectual controversies (I spent hours debating both sides of issues as I walked through my neighborhood) and toward my own shortcomings. I was too young to be involved in what most people would call sinful behavior (drug and alcohol use, stealing, etc.), and honestly such activities held little interest for me. Even as a teenager, the most rebellious activity I embraced was growing my hair long! Gazing at issues energized me, but examining my shortcomings became quietly devastating. My personal standard was perfection, and nothing less was acceptable for me. If I received a 100% grade on a test, but missed the extra credit question, I considered the effort a complete failure. This competition was internal (the reality of my performance versus my assumed potential), and was not usually directed against others. By fifth grade, this purely self-imposed pressure (my parents never applied such unrealistic expectations) produced symptoms which made the doctor suspect I was developing a stomach ulcer. He told me to stop worrying, and I tried as hard as I could to be more relaxed about my grades (I never really succeeded).

There was a deeper worry connected to my perfectionism that was more spiritual in nature. I was acutely concerned about Ezekiel’s doctrine of sin, for both myself and for Israel. My personal sinfulness was manifest to me because I knew I was not perfect. If I could not be perfect, how then would God forgive my shortcomings? How could I forgive myself and be delivered from the perfectionist trap?

I sought for an answer from Torah. Reading the Law in a simplistic manner and without adult guidance, I came to see that Israel’s sin (both on personal and national levels) required sacrificial offerings to be forgiven:

“If the whole Israelite community sins unintentionally and does what is forbidden in any of the LORD’s commands, even though the community is unaware of the matter, they are guilty. When they become aware of the sin they committed, the assembly must bring a young bull as a sin offering and present it before the Tent of Meeting ... If a member of the community sins unintentionally and does what is forbidden in any of the LORD’s commands, he is guilty. When he is made aware of the sin he committed, he must bring as his offering for the sin a female goat without defect ... In this way the priest will make atonement for him, and he will be forgiven.”

(Leviticus 4:13-14, 27-28, 31)

Surprisingly, the answer to my spiritual uneasiness was rather simple. The Jewish solution to guilt and sin involves sacrificing perfect (unblemished) animals to God as a sign of inner contrition and remorse. If I couldn’t personally be perfect, God could communicate his sympathetic understanding of my predicament through such a ceremonial activity. Although all of the references to bloodletting seemed gory to me, I was willing to accept the solution at face value. I was particularly impressed by the Biblical passages regarding the Day of Atonement, because I was aware of that special day each fall:

This is to be a lasting ordinance for you: On the tenth day of the seventh month you must deny yourselves and not do any work – whether native-born or alien living among you – because on this day atonement will be made for you, to cleanse you. Then, before the LORD, you will be clean from all your sins. It is a sabbath of rest, and you must deny yourselves; it is a lasting ordinance. The priest who is anointed and ordained to succeed his father as high priest is to make atonement ... This is to be a lasting ordinance for you: Atonement is to be made once a year for all the sins of the Israelites.”

(Leviticus 16:29-32,34)

I remember how our family observed Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, when I was a little child – during the period when we lived in Far Rockaway. We did not have regular Sabbath observances, but on Yom Kippur, life was different. I could not play with the other children, and I had to wear stiff shoes instead of my more comfortable P.F. Flyers. The shoes indicated that the day was a form of mild torture for an active child; restraint overtook natural joy, and quiet replaced laughter. However, only the memory of this observance survived our move to Long Island. By the time I encountered Leviticus, such cursory acknowledgments of the Day of Atonement had been abandoned, and at best it was memorable because the Jews of Farmingdale were allowed to take the day off from school as a holiday. There were some advantages to being Jewish, even in a gentile world!

Yom Kippur troubled me. Leviticus asserts its ongoing validity for Israel’s spiritual sanctity, but its modern day observance, from my vantage point, seemed to mock its true meaning. Where were the Most Holy Place, the Tent of Meeting and the altar where the unblemished animals could atone for my imperfections? Gone. Where was the Temple conceived by David and built by Solomon (and then rebuilt following the exile)? Gone. Where was my sacrifice for sins? Gone. Where was forgiveness? Gone.

Relatives were of little use as I considered a vexing problem that increasingly appeared to be irresolvable. Since none of them were aware of my inner conflicts, they understood my questions concerning the Day of Atonement and the lack of animal sacrifices as curious but insignificant. I was always asking questions about every conceivable subject, and so I can imagine from their perspective that the Yom Kippur inquiries were just more of the same. This was not true.

The lack of a literal re-playing of the Day of Atonement rituals in contemporary Judaism destroyed my faith in its validity. At the age of ten, I felt cut off from the Biblical past and its promises. I never doubted the truthfulness of the Bible, nor its claim over my life, but I lost confidence in modern Judaism to convey its blessings and fulfill its promises. I remained a Zionist, I identified myself as a Jew (since I already had such a jaundiced view of gentiles), but the synagogue was no place for me. Fortunately, it was never offered as an option, and no outward rebellion was necessary.

My “bar mitzvah” at the age of thirteen was a sham and a shame. Since our family did not belong to the temple, I received no religious or language preparation for it. There was no service, no reading of sacred scrolls, and no authenticity to the day. As the time approached for the bar mitzvah party, I gingerly asked my parents about how they were going to explain away the absence of the religious service. How can one have a bar mitzvah party without a bar mitzvah? They assured me that people were told that the service was private, but this made no sense to me and I felt like a fraud. How could I take my place as a man in the Jewish community on such a basis? The only saving grace of the day was that enough cash gifts were given to enable me to buy a six-inch reflector telescope – a dream I had longed to fulfill since third grade and was told could become a reality on my thirteenth birthday. It arrived in June of that year.

After years of struggling with heart and other illnesses, my mother passed away in February, 1971, less than a year after I endured the charade of my bar mitzvah. I inherited from her certain characteristics: a fierce sense of independence, a love of the New York Mets and pizza, and a pretty sharp sense of humor. She respected my curiosity and willingness to take intellectual risks, and though she was never at a loss for an opinion, gave me wide latitude in charting my own course. In return, I tried to make her life transcend the physical limitations she coped with. She taught me how to do the laundry, shop for good food bargains, and cook a few standard meals.

Such independence prepared me well for her death. Saying good-bye was sad, but not debilitating. My hunger for learning, my immersion into the solitary world of reading, and my own dreams for my future (would I be an astronomer or a lawyer?) engaged my heart and soul. I was self-sufficient, self-motivated, achievement-oriented and confident. It probably didn’t hurt that I had already begun to take an interest in girls. When the heart begins to imagine what a pretty girl’s embrace would feel like, a hug from one’s mother becomes a little less necessary.

In an age that is so psychologically-oriented, it is only natural to wonder if there was a connection between my mother’s death and my conversion experience at the end of 1971. Did I feel a need to convert because I had lost such a powerful mother figure? Was accepting Jesus a way of filling a void? Such a thought never entered my mind when I was thirteen, and doesn’t ring true almost 30 years later. I missed having a mother to some extent, but the loss faded rather quickly. With or without a mother, my orientation to life came from within. Life’s challenges were only growing more attractive as I gained increased knowledge and studied fresh topics. I felt fully alive and eager for anything that might come, and on a conscious level felt no need to fill any void except for the one created by ignorance. Having come to the previously discussed conclusions regarding Judaism, I spent very little time after my bar mitzvah on specifically religious matters. The telescope needed to be pointed to the heavens, and with a presidential election year looming, I fell in love with political matters. Newsday and the New York Times received far more attention than the Bible.

My conversion experience caught me totally by surprise. No one else who knew me at that time saw it coming either. I didn’t ask for it, and was not searching for new religious input. I didn’t want to convert to an alien religion such as Christianity, and I felt no need to explore other religions. I did not quest for Jesus; Jesus descended to me, and without my assent. He came through a voice, and I encountered divine glory.

When most of the prophets tell of their experience of the kavod (glory) of God, they emphasize what they saw and heard. But not every vision actively engages both senses; sometimes one sees but does not hear the divine voice, while on other occasions God’s voice is heard but no representation of the invisible God is necessary. In my case, I heard a voice, and was reminded of my mystical dream inspired by Ezekiel’s prophecy.

In 1971, December 23 fell on a Thursday. I was by myself in the family’s living room, flipping through channels to find something acceptable to watch on our old black and white television. Although I made it a point never to watch Christmas related programs, that night I made an exception to the rule, out of boredom. A Christmas Carol was on one of the New York City stations, and I watched it with a sarcastic attitude; Scrooge impressed me far more than Tiny Tim and the rest. Following that movie, another version of the story (the English one) aired, and I decided to watch again.

During that movie, I felt a presence in my home. It was all around me, and my body responded to the presence by tingling. The sensation was akin to how one’s leg or arm feels when it “falls asleep.” It didn’t hurt and certainly didn’t feel ticklish. For some reason, I had an intuition that the source of the presence was upstairs, where my brother and I shared a bedroom (the other half of the second floor was an unfinished attic). I had no fear of this unknown intruder, but my curiosity was overwhelming. The mystery had to be solved.

When I entered my bedroom, I immediately turned on all of the lights to see if someone was hiding in the darkness. Seeing no one, I opened up the two closets and discovered nothing but clothes and games. Nevertheless, I knew I was on to something, for the presence and the attendant physical sensations had become much stronger. Whatever I sensed was right there with me in my room – that was for certain!

Standing in the small alcove area of the room, and confused about this mysterious intrusion into the normalcy of my night, I asked out loud and to no one in particular, “What should I do now?” To my complete astonishment, I heard a strong voice reply! I have wondered about the nature of that voice ever since. Its authority and spiritual power were undeniable. From my perspective, it did not come from within (like a thought or an interiorized spiritual voice) – I heard it with my ears. Would someone else have heard the voice if they were standing next to me in that room on that night?

At the exact moment the voice revealed itself to me, I was eyeing the corner of my brother’s bookshelf. A book that I did not recognize was lying flat on one of the shelves, and that struck me as odd. I thought it impossible for a book to enter my room without my knowing about it. The voice commanded, “Pick up that book!” – and I obeyed without any hesitation or thought.

Dusting the mysterious book off while sitting down on my bed, I was shocked to discover that it was a Bible containing both the Old and New Testaments. I had never seen a New Testament before, and I couldn’t understand why one would have invaded my room. Processing this strange turn of events as quickly as possible, I repeated my original question – and once again the voice responded! I was actually having a conversation with someone I could not see!

The invisible conversation partner ordered me to action: “Turn to the last pages of this book!” This was certainly a command, and not a suggestion, and I didn’t pause to contest. Paging toward the back of the Bible, my attention fell to this passage in Revelation, a piece of literature I had never heard of or read. I then proceeded to read my first passage from the New Testament:

I saw heaven standing open and there before me was a white horse, whose rider is called Faithful and True. With justice he judges and wages war. His eyes are like blazing fire, and on his head are many crowns. He has a name written on him that no one knows but himself. He is dressed in a robe dipped in blood, and his name is the Word of God. The armies of heaven were following him, riding on white horses and dressed in fine linen, white and clean. Out of his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations. “He will rule them with an iron scepter.” He treads the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God Almighty. On his robe and on his thigh he has this name written: KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS.

(Revelation 19:11-16)

What an incredible discovery! My mystical secret was not my own private possession; someone else was given the same dream two thousand years earlier. The titles given to the rider on the white horse indicated that the messiah was being described, but I was frustrated by the lack of a personal name. Who was this King of Kings and Lord of Lords, the Word of God who is Faithful and True? I sensed the author was using some kind of code to let only the initiated know the true identity of the rider, and I didn’t have the key to the translation of the text. With nothing to lose, I asked my unseen guide, “What should I do next?” What made me believe I would receive an answer?

The answer came immediately, and I knew from an increased sense of the presence that the stakes were high. The voice spoke to me one last time: “Turn to the first page of this New Testament!”

Where was the first page of the New Testament? The youngest children in Sunday school know that the gospel of Matthew begins the Christian revelation, but I was not familiar with either Matthew or anything else in the New Testament. Employing the table of contents in the front of the book, I found what page Matthew began on and turned to it. Experiencing shock and calmness at the same time, I started to read the gospel: “A record of the genealogy of Jesus Christ the son of David, the son of Abraham . . .” (Matthew 1:1).

How many countless numbers of churchgoers have heard this simple introduction and never thought twice about its astounding claims? Although it is not even a complete sentence, I could read no further, due to my astonishment. Jesus Christ is Jewish? How could that be? In my mind, Jesus was not Jewish; he was a Christian! The god of gentiles was Jewish by birth – this was too amazing to be true! Speed-reading through Matthew’s genealogy, I came to the angelic announcement, for Joseph’s benefit, of Jesus’ birth. In the dream, Joseph hears: “She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1:21).

My mind raced to make logical connections. Jesus is a Jew. He is the rider on the white horse. He has been empowered to forgive sins. He is the Jewish Messiah. He is the one for whom I’ve been waiting.

Prayer carried my response to this collection of new ideas, which penetrated my heart with surprising ease. Uncharacteristically, I offered no resistance to their implications for my beliefs and life – I simply believed it all and required no further convincing. My prayer acknowledged Jesus as “my master and messiah” and sincerely promised to live out and fulfill his will for the rest of my life – with one spontaneous exception. The early 1970’s witnessed the expansion of the Jesus movement, whose adherents evangelized by handing out pamphlets to strangers. This confrontational style repelled me (as it does most Jews), and I concluded my prayer by making a point that I would not participate in such activities. However, within days I was sharing my new found faith in Christ with friends, fellow students and others (I informed my family of my conversion later). God had completely transformed my heart!

That’s the last thing I remember about that night. I have no memory of seeing family, returning downstairs, or going to sleep. It was as if that part of my life had come to an end, and a new one was just commencing. Christmas had invaded my life.

________

Lee Spitzer is the Senior Regional Pastor of the American Baptist Churches of New Jersey. He grew up in a Jewish family and became a Christian in high school.

Copyright (c) 1999. All rights reserved.

On October 11, 2007, Ann Coulter said on a television program that Jews need to be “perfected,” with reference to the teaching of the Old and New Testament. Her talk show host promptly declared himself “offended,” and the next morning Joe Scarborough, on his show, countered Coulter, saying to his “panel of experts” that “nowhere in the New Testament” did he find the teaching she was talking about. Instead, he said, people would be judged on the basis of whether they fed the hungry, helped the sick, and visited those in prison. He also said we should not judge other people.

I know when I’m out of my league, and so for the most part try not to comment on politics (I’ll leave that to pundits such as Ann and Joe), but in this case, they ventured into the area of Christian theology and biblical exegesis, and on this territory I feel a little more comfortable contributing to the discussion. In short, I am going to argue that while I may have wished that Ann Coulter had expressed her view with greater theological sophistication, she did have a point, and Joe’s efforts to “clarify” the New Testament’s teaching fell, at least in my opinion, flat.

Rightly interpreted, does the New Testament teach that the Jews need to be “perfected,” to use Ann Coulter’s language? Do Jews need to believe in Jesus the Messiah in order for them to be saved? Or is this belief optional, just for Christians, and is it OK for non-Christian Jews to go on holding to their own beliefs (which involve rejecting Jesus as Messiah)? (In case some of you reading the last sentence are wondering about the phrase “non-Christian Jews” -- as if there were “Christian Jews” -- there were, and are, in fact Christian or messianic Jews who believe in Jesus as Messiah.)

To address this issue, we must do better than Joe Scarborough, quoting one or two passages out of context. We need to look at all the relevant passages on the topic in Scripture, and try to understand the biblical theology on this subject. Since the genre of this post is that of a brief column, I will limit myself to a few key passages.

On the one hand, Jesus did acknowledge that “salvation comes from the Jews” (John 4:22), that is, the Jews are God’s chosen people per the Hebrew Scriptures (the Old Testament), and it is through them that the Messiah, Jesus, came. Jesus was a Jew!

At the same time, Jesus unequivocally claimed to be the Messiah and the only way to God. In John 14:6, he is quoted as saying, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” The same belief is echoed by the early Christians. Thus Luke quotes Peter as teaching, “Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name given under heaven by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12). So who is this name? “... then know this, you and all the people of Israel: It is by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified but whom God raised from the dead ... Jesus is ‘the stone you builders rejected, which has become the cornerstone’” (Acts 4:10–11, quoting Psalm 118:22). The name without which no one -- Jew or non-Jew -- can be saved is Jesus. (And notice that Peter was addressing his fellow Jews.)

What will happen to Jews, then, who reject Jesus as Messiah? In John’s Gospel chapter 8, Jesus is quoted as saying that the Jews -- his own people -- are “children of the devil,” which, in context, means “sinners.” Jews are sinners, just like the rest of us. But if they are sinners, they need salvation. And how can they be saved? By feeding the hungry, helping the sick, and visiting those in prison, as Joe Scarborough is misrepresenting Jesus as teaching? No. According to both Jesus and the early church, salvation -- not only for non-Jews but also for Jews -- is “found in no one else” but Jesus (Acts 4:12).

So how do Jews get saved? Just like the rest of us -- by believing that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God (John 20:31). There is no special arrangement, no exception, no partiality. As Paul wrote, “There is no difference between Jew and Gentile, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.” That’s what the New Testament says. You didn’t hear it on Joe Scarborough’s morning show, but check it out -- it’s right there in the Bible. Maybe Ann Coulter, in her amateurish way of expressing it, did have a point -- this time.

________

Andreas Köstenberger is founder of Biblical Foundations (www.biblicalfoundations.org) and professor of New Testament at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary in Wake Forest, N.C.

Moshe Rosen discusses the importance for young people to witness to their parents. His own parents disowned him because he converted from Judaism to Christianity. His father said to him, “You are never to mention Christ, the Bible, or your religion to your mother or to me, or to any of the family.” A deacon in his church told him to be a “silent witness,” and that a time would come when they would ask about his faith. Seventeen years after he accepted the reconciliation with his parents, his mother went into a Christless eternity. His father followed in another decade. “They never asked.”

There is no such thing as a “silent witness.” Being a silent witness doesn't work because the focus is on whether we can be good and righteous. Our message should not be who we are but who He is.

Jewish boy's heart saves Arab girl's life

JERUSALEM (Reuters) - The heart of a Jewish boy killed in a road accident has given a new lease on life to an Arab girl.

"She got a wonderful heart both from nature's standpoint and from an emotional standpoint," said David Kaveh, whose son Yuval was hit by a car while crossing the street with his bicycle days before his ninth birthday.

Yaacov Lavi, a surgeon at Sheba Medical Center at Tel Hashomer, said the recipient 3-year-old Reem al-Jaroushi of Ramle in Israel, had a heart three times the normal size and would surely have had a limited life without the transplant.

The girl's mother Amal al-Jaroushi, interviewed by Israeli army radio Sunday along with the boy's father, said: "I am very thankful to him that they helped my daughter."

The doctor told Israel Radio the girl had shown fast improvement, awakening from her surgery to ask for juice and Bamba, a popular Israeli peanut-butter snack.

^REUTERS@