For the week of January 3, 2026 / 14 Tevet 5786

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Vayechi
Torah: Bereshit/Genesis 47:28 – 50:26
Haftarah: 1 Melachim/1 Kings 2:1–12

When Joseph’s brothers saw that their father was dead, they said, “It may be that Joseph will hate us and pay us back for all the evil that we did to him.” So they sent a message to Joseph, saying, “Your father gave this command before he died: ‘Say to Joseph, “Please forgive the transgression of your brothers and their sin, because they did evil to you.”’ And now, please forgive the transgression of the servants of the God of your father.” Joseph wept when they spoke to him. His brothers also came and fell down before him and said, “Behold, we are your servants.” But Joseph said to them, “Do not fear, for am I in the place of God? As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today. So do not fear; I will provide for you and your little ones.” Thus he comforted them and spoke kindly to them. (Genesis 50:15-21)

By posting this message, I am forcing myself to face a tough personal challenge. Through the years, I have given much thought to Joseph’s extraordinary perspective on his life, particularly his understanding of God’s workings amidst his brother’s jealous betrayal. It’s not surprising that despite his kindness in providing for them and their families in Egypt, they felt insecure, determining they needed to fabricate a message from their now deceased father to protect themselves from Joseph’s long-anticipated vengeance.

And yet, he responded with, “Do not fear, for am I in the place of God? As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today” (Bereshit/Genesis 50:19–20). Joseph’s grappling with the dynamic of God’s goodness in the midst of suffering caused by his brothers was not just philosophically and theologically insightful; it informed his attitude and actions. Instead of being controlled by a tremendous amount of resentment, he was able to relate to them with love and compassion. While not excusing their wrongs, his awareness of God’s benevolent workings through it all defined his relationship to them.

Whenever I have thought about my own life in light of this story, it’s been from the perspective of after the fact. In my message, The Other Side of the Coin, I discuss how God has helped me many times to discover how he had been working things out for good in the midst of very difficult life circumstances. In these cases, it was only many years later that I realized God’s goodness had been at work all along. I cannot overstate my gratitude for finally recognizing God’s loving hand. These revelations have revolutionized my life in such a positive way!

Be that as it may, perhaps there is something even more critical for me (and maybe you) to learn from Joseph’s story. While it’s wonderful to look back at hard times and finally see God’s positive orientation towards me, maybe it’s time I allowed myself to look forward to the future while grasping God’s same positive orientation.

I certainly have had enough life experience since first coming to know Yeshua to face potential hardships with confidence. But I don’t think past experiences are sufficient to base my future on. But that’s besides the point, since we do have something we can fully count on: the Scriptures. Here are some examples.

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want (Psalm 23:1).

For the LORD God is a sun and shield; the Lord bestows favor and honor. No good thing does he withhold from those who walk uprightly (Psalm 84:11).

If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him! (Matthew 7:11)

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28).

He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? (Romans 8:32)

Joseph’s experience predates these verses by centuries. It’s possible that his life example actually helped inform these statements. Whether or not it did, it’s about time it informed me. And while my experiences are not the stuff of Scripture, they are still evidence that the Scriptures are true. The goodness of God is operative in the midst of whatever I am going through. Therefore, it’s about time I lived accordingly. What about you?

Scriptures taken from the English Standard Version

For the week of December 27, 2025 / 7 Tevet 5786

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Vayigash
Torah: Bereshit/Genesis 44:18 – 47:27
Haftarah: Ezekiel 37:15-28
Originally posted the week of December 15, 2018 / 7 Tevet 5779 (revised)

And he wept aloud, so that the Egyptians heard it, and the household of Pharaoh heard it.
(Bereshit/Genesis 45:2)

Sometime in my late teens, I stopped crying. That’s not to say that up until then, I was crying nonstop. I had lost the ability to cry. All children cry. It’s our automatic, God-given survival mechanism. As we get older, most of us learn to control the tears and express our needs and disappointments in other ways. In many cultures, males are discouraged from crying at all. “Big boys don’t cry,” we’re told; so we stop. But that’s not why I did. It’s not as if my parents taught me such a thing. I remember seeing my father cry on more than one occasion, and there was no shame in that. Despite that, I distinctly remember that by the time I was eighteen years old, I could feel a constant need to cry lodged in my throat. It was awful.

My life was awful. My father had abandoned my mother and me a few years before. By this time, my mother was not well enough to work, forcing us to turn to government assistance. I had no direction in life. I was very superstitious. I thought success was measured by degrees of pleasure. And I had developed an inordinate fear of death.

Everything about my life was out of sorts. I had no clear vision of what it should or could be. Wrapped in a shroud of confusion and fear, I was stuck just like the lump in my throat. Then, a few days before my nineteenth birthday, my life was transformed by my first encounter with the truth of Yeshua as Messiah. As I reached out to God that day, I had no idea I was embarking on an amazing Great Adventure. But no tears, just smiles.

In those early months of my newfound faith, I experienced a happiness I had never dreamt of. I was ecstatic, and people could see it all over me. The next few months were exhilarating despite the new tensions and relationship strains from the unusual path I was on. Still, no tears.

A year after coming to faith, I left home for biblical studies. Leaving home brought with it renewed anxiety as I began to face some of my entrenched insecurities and fears. As I woke up one morning in my dorm room, I was fiercely struggling with I don’t really know what. I was not doing well and didn’t know what to do. I was alone in my room. My roommate had a small (for those days) stereo and a few Gospel albums. I didn’t listen to a lot of music back then, since music had been one of my gods during my Bad Old Days. I don’t know why I put the album on. Then something happened as the singing started. The faucet opened! I was shocked, as for the first time in I don’t know how long, I cried and cried. It felt so good! And while the lump would return from time to time, eventually so would the tears, as God has allowed me to express myself in this way.

It’s hard to say for sure what it was about that moment that released all that pent-up emotion. I can guess, because I have had similar experiences since. It hasn’t always been with a song, but when I get a glimpse of the essence of life’s reality, it’s as if in that moment I see things as they really are, that amidst the confusion and chaos of my life, God really is my security, and everything will be okay after all. When that truth hits me, I am undone as all the tension of the insecurity I feel from the instability and pressures around me is released in an emotional torrent.

Perhaps that is something akin to what Joseph experienced when he was finally reconciled with his brothers. We can’t overestimate the emotional turmoil he must have borne all those years. We shouldn’t assume his rise to power in Egypt completely soothed the confusion, anger, and sadness he carried for so long. The emotions must have built to volcanic proportions during the process of revealing himself. For his own reasons, he shrewdly dealt with his brothers as they travelled back and forth to Egypt for food, all the while not knowing he was their brother. Then, when he deemed the time was right, all that pent-up emotion flowed so freely that everyone around knew he was weeping.

I am aware that there are many people, men included, who cry like freely flowing fountains. If that’s you, then you probably have no trouble relating to Joseph. You might be crying right now. Then there are the others. Maybe you have an incessant lump in your throat, as I had. Perhaps you have buried your emotions for so long that you can’t feel them anymore. I don’t know what it will take to release all you have stuffed inside. But I wanted to tell you: it’s alright to cry.

Scriptures taken from the English Standard Version

For the week of December 20, 2025 / 30 Kislev 5786

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Miketz, Hanukkah, & Rosh Hodesh
Torah: Bereshit/Genesis 41:1 – 44:17; B’midbar/Numbers 28:9–15, 7:42–53
Haftarah: Zechariah: 2:14 – 4:7 (English: 2:10 – 4:7)

And Pharaoh said to his servants, “Can we find a man like this, in whom is the Spirit of God?” (Bereshit/Genesis 41:38)

The dominant Hanukkah theme is light (Hanukkah this year occurs from Sunday evening, December 14, through December 22). It might surprise you to learn that the light theme doesn’t originate from the legend of the miraculous provision of oil, which likely didn’t happen, but from the altar rededication celebration that was patterned after the eight-day feast of Sukkot (English: Booths), which probably hadn’t happened that year due to the desecration of the Temple by the pagan oppressors. By that time, kindling great lights in Jerusalem had become part of the Sukkot observance. Referencing Hanukkah as the “Festival of Lights” is first recorded by the Jewish historian Josephus in the first century CE.

Despite the lack of evidence for the oil miracle, it’s fitting that light is still a central theme of Hanukkah. Dark assimilating forces were having their way in Israel at that time. Throughout history, despite our supposed disdain for tyrannical despots, people have welcomed various forms of empire-building. We prefer to go along with the latest popular thing, rather than fully embrace our unique ethnic and individual diversity in the way God designed us.

In contrast to the prevailing mood of their day, the Maccabees bravely shone the light of God, leading the people of Israel back to their unique, God-given destiny to stand out as lights in a dark world.

According to this week’s parsha (weekly Torah reading), Joseph, too, was such a light. After enduring years of darkness due to his brothers’ jealous betrayal, he became an illuminating force not only in Egypt but also throughout the region, including to his own extended family, who had been destined to be the light of the world. His willingness to be used by God in interpreting Pharaoh’s dreams and his graciousness in arranging for the migration of his clan to Egypt were enormous blessings.

The brilliance of God’s light through Joseph was so great that Pharaoh, who didn’t know the God of Israel, recognized it. But what was it that he recognized? He indeed encountered the true light of the true God. He said to his servants, “Can we find a man like this, in whom is the Spirit of God?” (Bereshit/Genesis 41:38). Yet, as an Egyptian king, his allegiance was to other gods, false gods. When most of us read “God” here, I am guessing that we assume he is referring to the Bible God, the only God, the creator God, Joseph’s God, the God of Israel. But as an Egyptian king, he wouldn’t have had such an understanding. The Hebrew word translated as “God” here is elohim, which is actually a generic term used for both the one and only God and other gods as well. To Pharaoh, divine power was at work in Joseph, expressing itself in a most effective way.

Even though Pharaoh was not thinking of God the way the Scriptures assert, almost all English translations represent elohim here as “God,” with a capital “G,” which is the conventional way English expresses “the true God.” The only exception I can find so far is in the New American Standard family of translations that use “divine spirit” (all in lower case), which is much closer to Pharaoh’s intent.

While Pharaoh’s theology was ill-informed, he wasn’t entirely wrong. Even though he didn’t know the true God, Joseph’s God, he recognized the illuminating power of genuine prophetic insight. While Pharaoh didn’t fully understand the true source of light at work through Joseph, the divine power he recognized was that of the only true God. This might explain why so many English translations use “God” with a capital “G.”

However, his reference to elohim was not the true elohim. Pharaoh’s valid recognition of the reality of God in this case doesn’t in any way authenticate his spirituality. Since the one true God, the God of Israel, is also the universal God, any encounter with his reality is legitimate, even though a failure to associate his power with his person would skew an accurate perception of his identity. This is all to say that the use of the capital “G” is misleading. Pharoah did recognize the true divine power of the one and only God, but didn’t understand him as such.

Pharaoh’s inability to recognize the God of Israel would one day lead Israel into the darkness of bondage in Egypt until the light of God’s deliverance through Moses would dawn. As we celebrate Hanukkah this year, let us not only remember the miraculous victory of the Maccabees but also the call to illuminate the darkness around us with the brilliance of the truth of God’s Word.

All scriptures, English Standard Version (ESV) of the Bible

For the week of December 13, 2025 / 23 Kislev 5786

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Vayeshev
Torah: Bereshit/Genesis 37:1-40:23
Haftarah: Amos 2:6-3:8
Originally posted the week of December 24, 2016 / 24 Kislev 5777 (updated)

The keeper of the prison paid no attention to anything that was in Joseph’s charge, because the LORD was with him. And whatever he did, the LORD made it succeed. (Bereshit/Genesis 39:23)

The story of Joseph is full of twists and turns. Father’s favorite, dreams of supposed grandeur, facing murderous hatred from his brothers, sold into slavery instead of being killed, father Jacob deceived by brothers as to Joseph’s fate (not sure if Jacob ever believed them), greatly respected and trusted by master, remains faithful to God in the face of master’s wife’s seduction, framed by master’s wife resulting in imprisonment, put in charge of prisoners, accurately interprets two prisoners’ dreams, later interprets Pharaoh’s dreams resulting in release and being made second-in-command over Egypt, brothers come to buy food from Joseph due to predicted famine, eventually reconciles with his brothers and settles his whole clan in Egypt, remains free from bitterness throughout.

There is one twist in the story that is easy to miss, however. It has to do with Potiphar, Joseph’s Egyptian master, the husband of the seductress. It strikes me as strange that Joseph wasn’t executed for his alleged crime. It is doubtful that the ancient Egyptian legal system would limit the penalty for attempted rape by a slave to imprisonment. When Potiphar heard the accusation against Joseph, we read “his anger was kindled” (39:19). But why? And with whom was he angry? We reasonably assume that he was furious at Joseph for attempted rape, but if his anger were directed at Joseph, then, as I mentioned, one would think he would have been executed, which he wasn’t. Besides that, it doesn’t seem to be too long that we find Joseph having favor with the keeper of the prison, who put him in charge of the other prisoners (39:21-23). But who was the keeper of the prison? Later in the story, when we are introduced to fellow prisoners (Pharaoh’s baker and cupbearer), whose dreams eventually lead to Joseph’s being revealed to Pharaoh, we are told that the prison was in the house of the captain of the guard. It was the captain of the guard who put Joseph in charge (40:3-4). And the captain of the guard is no other than Potiphar (37:36; 39:1)!

Perhaps Potiphar had mercy on Joseph because he thought so highly of him. That certainly had been the case, but why would he continue to have such high regard for a slave who so abused his master’s trust by doing one of the two things expressly forbidden to him (39:6, 9)? We cannot say absolutely for sure, because the Scripture doesn’t spell it out for us, but I propose that Potiphar knew his wife well enough to know that Joseph was indeed innocent.

But if that’s the case, then why did he not let him off the hook? My guess is there’s no way Potiphar could take sides against his wife, and especially not on behalf of a slave. So, the best he could come up with was imprisonment in his own dungeon, while giving Joseph as much freedom and responsibility in that horrible environment as he could.

If anyone knew that life isn’t fair, it was Joseph. He didn’t do anything to deserve such treatment, but suffered yet again—this time due to his master’s dysfunctional family. It could have been worse had he been executed—not only for him (though he may have wished for death on more than one occasion)—but for his family of origin, whom he would one day save, not to mention that the Plan of God for the entire world was riding on his prophesied destiny.

You might wonder if it was really necessary for Joseph’s life to take all these twists and turns. Could not God have preserved the fledgling nation of Israel without all this intrigue and suffering? Did Jacob’s family really have to move to Egypt? If so, was there no other way to get them there? Did Joseph have to endure hateful jealousy, slavery, wrongful accusation, and confinement in a dungeon? Was there no other way to install him as Prime Minister in Egypt? The more I look at it, I don’t think so. Each and every twist and turn appears to contribute something essential to the outcome. I am not saying that every single thing that happened to Joseph absolutely had to happen in exactly that way. But certainly, every difficult, confusing, painful, and unjust situation and circumstance was not wasted.

It’s the same for you and me. Life can be really crazy at times. Disappointing. Frustrating. Discouraging. But God knows what he is doing. And however he does it, whether by orchestrating every plot twist or walking with us around every turn, he has promised his children that he would be with us (see Matthew 28:20) and work everything out for our good (Romans 8:28). He knows what he is doing!

All scriptures, English Standard Version (ESV) of the Bible

For the week of December 6, 2025 / 16 Kislev 5786

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Vayishlach
Torah: Bereshit/Genesis 32:4 – 36:43 (English: 32:3 – 36:43)
Haftarah: Hosea 11:7 – 12:12

And Jacob said, “O God of my father Abraham and God of my father Isaac, O LORD who said to me, ‘Return to your country and to your kindred, that I may do you good,’ I am not worthy of the least of all the deeds of steadfast love and all the faithfulness that you have shown to your servant, for with only my staff I crossed this Jordan, and now I have become two camps. Please deliver me from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau, for I fear him, that he may come and attack me, the mothers with the children. But you said, ‘I will surely do you good, and make your offspring as the sand of the sea, which cannot be numbered for multitude.’” (Bereshit/Genesis 32:10–13; English 32:9–12)

I would guess that, encountering this week’s title, “Blessed Fear,” apart from the accompanying verses, many biblically minded people would immediately think of Mishlie/Proverbs 1:7: “The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge” or 9:10: “The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom.” We don’t usually think of fear as a blessed thing, though we’re aware of the benefit of what we might call “healthy fear,” the emotion which, when heeded effectively, prevents us from unnecessary harm. That’s why most of us have learned not to play with matches, for example. But blessed fear? This is where the verses in Mishlei prove helpful. This is similar to healthy fear, for it’s this kind of fear that helps us not to treat God lightly and to show him appropriate respect.

However, this is not the type of fear I am talking about here. In this week’s parsha (weekly Torah reading portion), Jacob is returning to the Promised Land after about twenty years of living in Mesopotamia, where his mother was from. He had run away after tricking his father, Isaac, in order to acquire the blessing that normally would have been given to the firstborn, his twin brother Esau. This infuriated his brother, who vowed to kill him. After building a sizeable family and acquiring much livestock, he fell out of favor with his father-in-law, Laban. In the midst of this challenging situation, God called him back to Canaan. And so, he went, along with his wives, children, and livestock (see Bereshit/Genesis 31:1–3). On the way, he got word that Esau was heading his way with four hundred men. This is what led him to pray the prayer I quoted at the beginning. Jacob’s motive for praying such a prayer is stated in the request he makes, “Please deliver me from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau, for I fear him” (Bereshit/Genesis 32:12; English 32:9–11).

This is not Jacob’s first recorded interaction with God, but it is his first direct request, a request that results in one of the most dramatic, powerful, life-changing, and instructive encounters with God in all of Scripture, when he wrestles with God. It is this encounter that fundamentally transforms Jacob, and God changes his name to “Israel” (see Bereshit/Genesis 32:29; English 32:28). I don’t know whether it’s correct to say that Jacob’s transformation depended on his request, but his request did lead to this significant biblical and historical development.

But what was it that prompted his request? Fear. Fear isn’t exactly the most impressive emotion. We don’t like being afraid, and we don’t like it when we see it in others. We might empathize with others when they are afraid, but still, we regard it as a weakness. And much of the time it is. But it can also be a blessing.

Jacob was a brilliant strategist. He knew what he wanted and knew how to get it—until he didn’t. After many years of getting the upper hand in many situations, he had exhausted all his personal resources, and he was terrified. Yet, that wasn’t the end of the story. Despite his being in a most desperate situation, or should I say, because he was in a most desperate situation, he turned to the only one who was able to help him. He called out to God, who heard his prayer, and came through in a most remarkable way. His fear drove him to God.

It’s in cases such as this that fear can be a tool that reminds us of our need for God. We are afraid, because we rely on ourselves or on things that are insufficient for the challenges at hand. But if we use fear to sound the alarm against self-reliance and as a call for seeking the God of Israel, the result will be blessing.

Scriptures taken from the English Standard Version

For the week of November 29, 2025 / 9 Kislev 5786

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Vayetzei
Torah: Bereshit/Genesis 28:10 – 32:3
Haftarah: Hoshea/Hosea 12:13 – 14:10 (English: 12:12 – 14:9)
Originally posted the week of December 7, 2024 / 6 Kislev 5785 (revised)

I shall ransom them from the power of Sheol; I shall redeem them from Death. (Hoshea/Hosea 13:14)

Many years ago, I met a psychologist who, upon learning I was Jewish, made an interesting comment about God. He said that in the books of the Hebrew prophets, God was portrayed at times like a Jewish mother talking to one of her adult children:

“Why don’t you ever call me!
   Go away, I hate you! Don’t talk to me—
Come back; come back;
   I love you, I love you!—So, when are you going to visit?”

For the record, not all Jewish mothers are like that. My wife isn’t, but my mother, may she rest in peace, was.

But what about God? Was my new friend correct? Does God ever display an extreme, neurotic-like, perhaps contradictory, overwhelming, hard-to-understand love? Let’s look at this week’s Haftarah (the passage from the Prophets, accompanying the weekly Torah portion). It’s from the Book of Hoshea (English: Hosea) 12:13 – 14:10 in the Hebrew; 12:12 – 14:9 in most English translations. This passage was likely chosen because it includes a reference to the Torah portion, where Jacob flees to Mesopotamia due to his brother’s murderous threats.

Also included in this Haftarah are extreme words of judgment against Israel. That’s certainly a common theme throughout biblical prophetic literature. Here are a couple of examples:

Therefore they shall be like the morning mist or like the dew that goes early away, like the chaff that swirls from the threshing floor or like smoke from a window (Hoshea/Hosea 13:3).

I will fall upon them like a bear robbed of her cubs; I will tear open their breast, and there I will devour them like a lion, as a wild beast would rip them open (Hoshea/Hosea 13:8).

This section is so highly negative on Israel; the English Standard Version, which I am using here, uses the subheading “The Lord’s Relentless Judgment on Israel.” One dictionary definition of “relentless” is “showing or promising no abatement of severity, intensity, strength, or pace.” This sums up how many people characterize God’s take on rebellious Israel in the Hebrew Scriptures. Having done so much for them, these rebellious ingrates are worthy of nothing less than everlasting rejection. But like my friend’s characterization that I mentioned, there’s much more to God’s heart towards his chosen ones. A little further in the Hoshea passage, we also read:

I will heal their apostasy; I will love them freely, for my anger has turned from them. I will be like the dew to Israel; he shall blossom like the lily; he shall take root like the trees of Lebanon; his shoots shall spread out; his beauty shall be like the olive, and his fragrance like Lebanon. They shall return and dwell beneath my shadow; they shall flourish like the grain; they shall blossom like the vine; their fame shall be like the wine of Lebanon (Hoshea/Hosea 14:5-8; English 14:4-7).

Can you see why my friend characterized God in the way he did? I wouldn’t blame someone who claimed the extreme difference between judgment and acceptance is so great as to be irreconcilable. But my friend characterized God in the way that many Bible readers, not to mention the editors of the ESV, have great trouble doing.

What we see here is an outworking of what I like to call “God’s dilemma.” His covenantal relationship with the Jewish people is a complex one. Foundational to it are his unconditional promises given to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. It was this commitment that led to his rescue of their descendants many years later when they were enslaved in Egypt. His redemption of the nation at the hand of Moses led to an additional covenantal arrangement at Mt. Sinai that created a dynamic of blessings and curses based on the stipulations of that covenant. Israel’s humanity, common to all nations, undermined their ability to meet God’s standards, setting them up for the kind of harsh judgment described by Hoshea. Yet, God’s dilemma was that he was at the same time obliged to uphold the original covenant he made with the forefathers, even as he was required to enact judgment.

The tension of required punishment amid an eternal commitment resulted in an almost neurotic expression of both anger and heartfelt yearning, which may not be that far from a stereotypical Jewish mother’s heart with its expectations and demands mixed with unshakable eternal love.

Tragically, instead of grasping the complex, hard-to-understand nature of God’s covenantal love, many attempt to smooth it out by choosing one of the two extremes. Either God is angry and vengeful, or he is absolutely accepting, no matter what. We might think that either there is nothing we can do to ever satisfy him, or there’s nothing we can do that will provoke his ire. We wonder how God could be both absolutely loving and demanding at the same time.

I can’t explain how it works, but God has provided something in Scripture through which we can embrace the unexplainable—the people of Israel. Certainly, it’s only by knowing God through the Messiah that his complex love can be known, but in order to grasp the complexity of that love, he has provided Israel as the example through which to demonstrate to the whole world a most truly effective and dependable love.

Now, of course, God is not a Jewish mother. But could it be that God instilled in the mothers of Israel, some of them at least, consciously or unconsciously, a concept of high demand and expectation mingled with everlasting love? But not being God, this tension has often led to great disappointment and broken relationships. The tension of high demand and committed love can tear a heart apart, even God’s, which is exactly what it cost him—through the Messiah—on behalf of us all.

Scriptures taken from the English Standard Version

For the week of November 22, 2025 / 2 Kislev 5786

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Toledot
Torah: Bereshit/Genesis 25:19-28:9
Haftarah: 1 Samuel 20:18-42
Originally posted the week of November 22, 2014 / 29 Heshvan 5775 (updated)

And Isaac prayed to the LORD for his wife, because she was barren. And the LORD granted his prayer, and Rebekah his wife conceived. (Bereshit/Genesis 25:21)

Have you ever heard anyone say, “Prayer doesn’t change things; prayer changes you”? It sounds so wise and spiritual to shift people’s attention from a supposed utilitarian approach to prayer to an inner, personalized one. But is it true? Ask Isaac. Abraham’s son’s wife, Rebekah, was having trouble getting pregnant. So he prayed. I imagine it could have been Isaac who changed if the problem was him, not his wife. But regardless, they had an issue; Isaac asked God for help, and God granted his request. Not only did she get pregnant, but they had twins!

I don’t claim to understand prayer or how it works. But as far as the Bible is concerned, prayer indeed changes things. It doesn’t take expert analytical skills to determine this. A person or people find themselves in undesirable circumstances; God is petitioned for help; at times, he responds as requested. Problem solved. Prayer changes things.

I know it’s not the prayer itself that affects change. It’s God. Prayer is not a mechanism; it’s communication, communication with God, the Master of the Universe, who, out of love for his human creatures, makes himself available to us and actually responds to our requests. While it’s God who does the changing, his actions on our behalf in these cases are a result of our communicating with him.

I can’t say for sure, but I think pithy statements, such as “prayer doesn’t change things; prayer changes you,” exposes an ingrained cynicism. This obviously is not something that someone says who has experienced regular answers to prayer. It can only come from those who haven’t. While they don’t seem to be able to deny prayer as a legitimate, biblically based activity, their disappointment twists God’s revealed truth into a spirituality of their own making.

There may be other factors undermining their ability to take the Scriptures at face value. Philosophically, it is difficult to understand how God’s actions toward humans could be dependent on our requests. Doesn’t God do what God does regardless? So why pray? As I already mentioned, I don’t understand how prayer works; I just know it does as modeled by Isaac and others in the Bible. And by the way, how could prayer change us if it doesn’t change things, unless the change is only to do with the exercise of praying and nothing to do with God at all. If praying is not communicating with God, I don’t know what it is, but it’s certainly not prayer.

I do concede, however, that this statement is half true: prayer indeed changes us (again, it’s not the prayer doing the changing; it’s God). It’s essential, however, to understand how that works. This much I think I know: prayer as communication with God is similar to a child’s communication with a parent. When a child expresses a need, they invite interaction. A good, wise, and loving parent doesn’t respond with “Yeah, yeah, whatever you like,” or “Don’t bother me!” but instead engages the child by clarifying the request and granting it, but only if it is in the best interest of the child. This interactive process, initiated by the child but directed by the parent, should lead to some level of learning and growth for the child. It is in this sense that we could say that the child’s request changes him or her, but only in the sense that the parent influences that change.

But what kind of parent would be so focused on the maturity of their child that they would only use their requests as occasions for a lesson of some sort and never actually give them what they ask for? Yeshua the Messiah refers to the general generosity of parents when he says, “If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!” (Matthew 7:11). This doesn’t mean God automatically grants every request just because we ask. He is an all-loving, all-wise Father, who also knows when to say, “No.” But we won’t get an answer at all if we don’t ask.

Want to see some things change and be changed in the process? Pray.

Scriptures taken from the English Standard Version

For the week of November 15, 2025 / 25 Heshvan 5786

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Hayyei Sarah
Torah: Bereshit/Genesis 23:1 – 25:18
Haftarah: 1 Melachim/1 Kings 1:1-31
Originally posted the week of November 23, 2019 / 25 Heshvan 5780

Then Abraham bowed down before the people of the land. And he said to Ephron in the hearing of the people of the land, “But if you will, hear me: I give the price of the field. Accept it from me, that I may bury my dead there.” (Bereshit/Genesis 23:12-13)

This week’s parsha (Torah reading portion) provides a look-see into the trading customs of ancient Canaan, many hundreds of years before Joshua and the people of Israel acquired it. Sarah, Abraham’s wife, had died and needed a burial place. We can assume that others among Abraham’s entourage had passed away beforehand, but it is only now that we read of a need to purchase property for this purpose. It could be that public burial grounds were appropriate for Abraham’s servants, but not for his own family. The cave of Machpelah was suitable for more than just Sarah. Abraham himself, plus Isaac and his wife Rebecca, as well as Jacob and his wife Leah, were eventually buried there.

When Abraham inquired after this piece of property, its owner offered the cave as a burial place at no charge. Yet Abraham insisted upon paying for not only the cave but the field it was part of. Clearly, Abraham had the foresight to secure a family burial place that could still be used after Sarah’s death. But there may have been something else going on. Abraham’s need to bury his wife set up a situation whereby his family would have a claim, albeit small, upon the land. God had promised Canaan to his descendants, but as of yet, Abraham had not acquired any portion whatsoever. Sarah’s death provided such an opportunity.

This wise move on Abraham’s part forever established his and his family’s presence in what would become a most contentious region of the world. Perhaps all he wanted was a family burial plot. Regardless, his thinking beyond the immediate need he faced for his wife resulted in a legal foundation to retain the Promised Land through innumerable challenges in the subsequent centuries.

People of faith may tend to downplay human strategy in the fulfillment of God’s purposes. We might assume that the more detached we are from practicalities and human effort, the better. Indeed, God has accomplished amazing things through extraordinary happenings. Yet, the extraordinary often works in concert with the ordinary. The person of faith understands that reliance upon God, his guidance and power, is essential to a legitimate and meaningful relationship with him. However, reliance on God doesn’t negate the need to appropriately use the vast array of tools God has given us to live effective, godly lives. One of those tools is intelligence.

Intelligence is the utilization of thought to effectively engage the world around us. It requires an awareness of one’s environment, an understanding of how life works (both in the general and the specific), and the ability to interact with others to achieve a desired result. As a tool, intelligence can be used for good or evil. For the person of faith, loyalty to God and his ways is first and foremost the platform upon which life is to be lived. But to live an effective, godly life is more than possessing moral fiber and basic spirituality; it also demands well-informed smarts.

Too often, we accept the false premise that understanding the world in which we live undermines faith. Disciplines such as science are only problematic not when they inform us too much, but when they inform us too little. True intelligence can take supposed discoveries and help us to understand how best to integrate them within the world we live. True intelligence acknowledges that we live in a complex world and requires patience and insight, as exemplified by Abraham.

We shouldn’t be afraid to think, to ponder, to plan, to strategize. God has given his human creatures the gift of intelligence as a key tool to engage the world he made. True faith is an intelligent faith; one that effectively and successfully engages life to further God’s purposes.

Scriptures taken from the English Standard Version

For the week of November 8, 2025 / 17 Heshvan 5786

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Vayera
Torah: Bereshit/Genesis 18:1 – 22:24
Haftarah: 2 Melachim/2 Kings 4:1-37
Originally posted the week of November 4, 2017 / 15 Heshvan 5778 (updated)

And Abraham said of Sarah his wife, “She is my sister.” And Abimelech king of Gerar sent and took Sarah. (Bereshit/Genesis 20:2)

I like to say, “truth is stranger than fiction,” because it’s true. It’s one of the things that evidences the reliability of the Bible. No one could—or should I say, “would”—make this stuff up. The life of Abraham is wrapped around God’s giving him a son in his and his wife Sarah’s old age. Early on, when he first journeyed to the land of Canaan, despite their infertility, he accepted God’s word to him regarding becoming a great nation one day. Eventually, he became concerned that no child was forthcoming, but at God’s reassurance, he trusted that he would indeed have a child of his own. More time went by; still no child. His wife suggested surrogate motherhood as the solution. Abraham agreed and had a son, Ishmael, via Sarah’s servant Hagar. Problem solved—or so he thought—until God appeared to him again, saying that Sarah herself would have the child of promise, Isaac. It was soon afterwards that he did something really strange: he jeopardized God’s plan.

What happened was Sarah was taken by a local king. It is clear that this happened soon after the Isaac promise, because if Sarah would have been visibly pregnant, then she wouldn’t have been taken. The king was led to believe that she was Abraham’s sister, not his wife. This was a ruse Abraham and Sarah had agreed upon as they embarked on their God-ordained journey many years before. Abraham was afraid that someone might kill him in order to steal his wife. He had figured that if she were taken, his life would most likely be spared. That he was, in fact, her half-brother made their ruse more believable, though no less deceitful.

This was the second time he had almost lost her. Soon after arriving in the Land of Canaan, they went down to Egypt to escape famine, where Pharaoh took her. Both times God intervened, and she was returned to her husband unscathed. Both times, Abraham was well-compensated, despite himself. But both times, he had risked completely undermining God’s plans and purposes for their lives. All because of fear.

That part of the story isn’t strange. Fear blinds us to the truth, resulting in destructive behavior. At least blind people know they’re blind, while fear tricks us into thinking that it functions like high-definition glasses. We think we see the world clearer than ever even though the image of life we’re engaging is completely skewed.

After all those years living as a foreigner in the Promised Land; after all those years of God’s protection and reiterations of his grand plan, by now wouldn’t Abraham, the Father of Faith, be free of such fear? Didn’t God just recently promise that Sarah would have a child? Even if he was afraid, couldn’t he muster up enough courage to avoid losing her at this most precarious time in their lives? If this were a made-up story, who would have thought up this: elderly Sarah, unusually beautiful though she was, being taken by another man just before Isaac was to be conceived. We would never imagine the hero of a story crumbling like this at this point. And yet in reality, such is the nature of fear.

What’s even stranger to me is that everything works out okay. But that’s because God’s faithfulness is perhaps the strangest thing in the entire universe! Our fears are not going to get in the way of God’s plans. And if we are part of those plans, he is going to work out our lives accordingly. That doesn’t mean that misjudgment rooted in fear is acceptable; or that serious consequences may not result. So much trouble is avoided by trusting in God, the fruit of which is right living. But at the same time, God is patient with us—and faithful. While he wants us always to trust him and not fear, it’s not as if our fears cause him to abandon us.

I wish the reality of true faith chased away every fear. I wish I was never intimidated by life’s challenges. Sometimes I find myself freaked out on the roller coaster of life, forgetting that it’s not my grasp of the cart that keeps me from being flung out. God firmly holds his children through everything, committed to never leaving us or forsaking us. We have every reason not to fear, but we do anyway. We shouldn’t; but we do. God can handle it. And maybe the more we realize that, the less we will fear.

Scriptures taken from the English Standard Version

For the week of November 1, 2025 / 10 Heshvan 5786

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Lech Lecha
Torah: Bereshit/Genesis 12:1 – 17:27
Haftarah: Isaiah 40:27 – 41:16

Now the LORD said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” (Bereshit/Genesis 12:1–3)

It’s tough not to get sentimental when coming back around to this parsha. It was twenty-eight years ago this week on the Jewish calendar that I attempted something radical—a weekly online messianic Torah commentary. The Internet was still catching on, and I didn’t know if my writing would catch on as well. But here we are, twenty-eight years later, and for now, TorahBytes is still being produced, not only in text format, but in audio as well, and more recently, a YouTube version. Be sure to check out the website for all past messages.

There are so many layers to the call of Avram (in English we say, Abram), whose name was later changed to Avraham (English: Abraham). This passage could be taken as the real start of the Bible’s overall story, following the essential but introductory subject matter of the eleven previous chapters. It’s there that we learn of God’s good creation that he cursed due to our first parents’ disobedience. While he hints at an eventual resolution to evil and its influence early on, the outworking of that plan doesn’t get going until God tells Avram to “get going” as he entrusts him with a mission designed to bless the entire world.

It’s difficult for us to fully appreciate the great risk Avram willingly took on. And yet he did so, but not without God’s assurance that he would watch his back, based on these words from Bereshit/Genesis 12:3: “I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse.”

While in its immediate context, God is promising special protection to Avram specifically, this should be understood as an integral part of the overall unconditional covenantal package given to the people of Israel. This is based on the covenant’s being passed on to his son Isaac (Bereshit/Genesis 26:3–4) and later, to his grandson Jacob (Bereshit/Genesis 27:27–29; 28:13–15), whose name was changed to Israel from whom the nation is derived.

Now, I would like to share an important promise dynamic that I have missed for most of my life. Many English translations fail to reflect the original wording by falsely creating an exact parallel of the blessing and cursing phrases. For example, the New International Version (NIV) reads, “I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse,” which is the way I have tended to remember it. That’s because in my first thirty years as a Yeshua follower, my go-to Bibles were first, the New American Standard Version, which is very similar to the NIV in this regard, and then the NIV, which I just read to you. Even though I have been using the English Standard Version (ESV) for about twenty years, I didn’t notice that it was different: “I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse.” The Hebrew uses barach, meaning “to bless,” twice, but is then followed by kalal, meaning “to belittle,” and arar, meaning “to curse,” a difference reflected in only a few translations. For the record, the two other occurrences of this blessing/cursing-type statement, found in Bereshit/Genesis 27:29 and B’midbar/Numbers 24:9, do use “arar” (to curse) twice, but that should not give translators the green light to not reflect the word differently in God’s promise to Avram.

God was not simply promising Avram that he would only confront those who formally curse him or his promised descendants. God made clear to him that the world would not get away with mistreating him or his people in any way, even if it were simply looking down on them. Israel was called to be God’s chosen nation through whom he would bless the world. Whether the individuals were aware of this or not, we (since I myself am Jewish) have been set aside as holy vessels for his purposes. If anyone messes with what belongs to God, he will mess with them.

Scriptures taken from English Standard Version unless otherwise indicated