For the week of January 18, 2025 / 18 Tevet 5785

Shemot
Torah: Shemot/Exodus 1:1 – 6:1
Haftarah: Isaiah 27:6 – 28:13; 29:22-23

Now there arose a new king over Egypt, who did not know Joseph. And he said to his people, “Behold, the people of Israel are too many and too mighty for us. Come, let us deal shrewdly with them, lest they multiply, and, if war breaks out, they join our enemies and fight against us and escape from the land.” Therefore they set taskmasters over them to afflict them with heavy burdens. They built for Pharaoh store cities, Pithom and Raamses. But the more they were oppressed, the more they multiplied and the more they spread abroad. And the Egyptians were in dread of the people of Israel. So they ruthlessly made the people of Israel work as slaves and made their lives bitter with hard service, in mortar and brick, and in all kinds of work in the field. In all their work they ruthlessly made them work as slaves. (Shemot/Exodus 1:8-14)

I remember years ago, reading John Eldredge’s book, Epic, in which he suggested that our love for story is due to our being in a story –  God’s story. I have thought a lot about that since then, and I couldn’t agree more. Over the years, I have grown in my understanding that Scripture is given to us within a framework of a grand, complex story. Despite being a collection of a wide variety of writings written by multiple authors over a period of centuries, an epic tale unfolds within its pages. I became convinced that the better we grasp the big picture of the Bible’s story, the better we’ll understand its details and find our place in God’s plan. You may be aware that I have a seminar where I unpack this. Please contact me, if you are interested.

More recently, I realized that not only is Scripture revealed within a storied framework, but so is life itself. Our existence as participants in God’s creation is a storied one. Contrary to popular philosophies, we are not random particles meaninglessly bouncing off each other, but human beings made in God’s image on purpose and for a purpose, each one of us, in some way, contributing to God’s epic.

One of the things I love about life is when unusual so-called coincidences happen. You know what I mean, I am sure. It’s being far from home and surprisingly bumping into an old friend. It’s sitting next to a stranger on an airplane and you or they or both have a life-altering experience as a result. It’s going to a friend’s house to say goodbye to their out-of-town cousin, not knowing I was going to meet God that day (this is a key component of my own story. If you don’t know it, check it out here). Moments like these remind us that there is more going on than mere happenstance. Of course, not all such occurrences are positive, but whatever is going on, it’s still a story.

While I love getting a peek into my life’s story, most of the time, it doesn’t look like there’s much of a story going on at all. This week’s parsha (weekly Torah reading portion) helps me with that.

The book of Bereshit (Genesis) closes with Israel finding safety and provision in Egypt due to the strange and difficult circumstances surrounding Joseph and his brothers. What a story that was! Israel prospers in Egypt. But at some point, the Egyptian rulership changes and begins to oppress the Israelites. Eventually, with God’s call of Moses, great drama will return with the ten plagues, the Passover, the Red Sea, and so on. But until then, I wouldn’t blame the Israelites for losing sight of the divine saga they were part of. The reader gets to see what was happening behind the scenes with the birth of Moses, which should encourage us that God is working even when we are unaware of it.

Now, Israel’s suffering as slaves didn’t make them any less part of a story, let alone God’s story, but as they endured their painful existence day by day, I wouldn’t blame them for not being aware of it. Many Israelites were born slaves and died slaves. Not too much plot development there. Our own circumstances may not be as dire as that, but much of the time, our daily lives don’t feel like much of a story, let alone an epic one. But it is.

Knowing we are part of God’s epic story doesn’t make every moment of our lives exciting and meaningful. But knowing we are part of something way bigger than ourselves and our immediate circumstances helps us gain perspective. In fact, the supposedly futile aspects of our lives may not be as futile as we think. You never know when the Author’s next plot twist is about to happen.

Scriptures taken from the English Standard Version

For the week of December 28, 2024 / 25 Kislev 5785

Miketz & Hanukkah
Torah: Bereshit/Genesis 41:1 – 44:17; B’midbar/Numbers 7:24-35
Haftarah: Zechariah 2:14 – 4:7 (English: 2:10 – 4:7)
Originally posted the week of December 28, 2019 / 30 Kislev 5780

My favorite movie clip for Hanukkah is from Lord of the Rings. Frodo, the unlikely hero of this popular epic is becoming more and more overwhelmed by the evil power of the ring he is seeking to destroy. At this point he is about to be captured or killed by one of the Dark Lord’s emissaries, thus bringing his quest to a most disastrous end. At the last moment Frodo’s loyal companion, Sam, rescues him. But Frodo, having temporarily lost his senses, is ready to stab his friend. Note: The movie clip is available below.

Frodo: I can’t do this, Sam.

Sam: I know. It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo; the ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end… because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was, when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines, it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you, that meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.

Frodo: What are we holding on to, Sam?

Sam: That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.

“There is some good in the world…and it’s worth fighting for.” What a noble statement. But as I was getting ready to repost this for Hanukkah, I realized that there is an assumption behind Sam’s words. In order for there to be a good worth fighting for, there needs to be such a thing as good.

Good, as Sam understands it, is not about our side versus their side. Sam’s statement isn’t one of staying true to their team or their cause. The undergirding worldview of this humble character (in the mind of the author, of course) is there is such a thing as objective good and objective evil.

What is obvious in Lord of the Rings is quite fuzzy in our day. Many doubt that such objectivity exists while others who may suspect it does resist making any conclusive determinations about it. Good has become a matter of personal preference.

This version of good is actually an expression of the lure of the misguided influence that Tolkien exposes in his popular trilogy. Self, self-seeking, tribal loyalty for its own sake, blind commitment to ideology, groupthink, are all forms of the Shadow, the evil influence overtaking the world of Middle Earth in Lord of the Rings and overtaking our world today.

Thankfully, there is objective good, because the good and only God created the universe. Good isn’t good simply because God says so, but rather because he designed it that way.

The Maccabees were not fighting for a personal cause. They, as many were doing in their day, could have easily gone along with the crowd, keeping with the times in which they lived, one of progress and tolerance. But the Maccabees knew what was at stake—God’s plan for Israel—that would eventually culminate with the restoration of the entire creation—was in jeopardy and they were not going to just let it happen. Instead they knew that, in spite of the increasing shadow overtaking Israel, they would resist; they would fight. With God’s help, they won the miraculous victory we commemorate this week.

What was true for the Maccabees is no less true for us today: there is good in the world and it’s worth fighting for!

For the week of December 21, 2024 / 20 Kislev 5785

Vayeshev
Torah: Bereshit/Genesis 37:1 – 40:23
Haftarah: Amos 2:6 – 3:8
Originally posted the week of December 9, 2017 / 21 Kislev 5778

Now Joseph had a dream, and when he told it to his brothers they hated him even more. (Bereshit/Genesis 37:5)

While the story of Jacob’s son Joseph is one of the more comprehensive Bible stories, his personality is often overly simplified to be the God-favored victim of his brothers’ murderous hatred. Staying faithful to God through it all, God uses his terrible circumstances to save the day. The message to us is equally simple: trust God and he will take care of us no matter what. Nice thought. It certainly contains dependable truth. The problem is this story, including Joseph’s part, isn’t that straightforward. Neither is real life. Within the complexity of Joseph’s character, we can find real hope for our own complicated lives.

Was Joseph a passive victim? No one should blame him for being his father’s favorite. That wasn’t fair to his brothers, of course. But life isn’t fair. God also favored him by giving him dreams. I am aware favored persons can be the object of other people’s ire. But that’s not really Joseph’s story. Without excusing what his brothers did, Joseph was not passive. Joseph had a bit of a mouth. When we are first introduced to him, we are told he had brought a bad report of his brothers to their father. Not given the details of that, we don’t know what he said or how he said it. He may have been completely in the right. But when trouble ensued later on, most people would wonder if they could have done things differently.

It’s the sharing of the dreams, however, that is of greatest concern. The bad report may have been necessary. But did he have to tell his brothers and father about the dreams? Didn’t he know he would further infuriate his brothers? Even if he was clued out about the meaning of the first dream, he knew how his brothers took it (and correctly so) as a prediction of his eventual prominence in the family. Therefore, he knew exactly how they would understand the second similar dream. He may have been purposely trying to put them in their place. Joseph most likely figured his being favored by his father and God would protect him from his brothers’ wrath. If so, he figured wrong.

The Bible doesn’t tell us what was going on in Joseph’s mind through his ordeal. What we do know is after all was said and done, he was able to be gracious to his brothers in spite of what they did to him. His perspective he expresses as “You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good” (Bereshit/Genesis 50:20) is an unusually healthy balanced understanding of the interplay between human activity and God’s sovereignty. It’s easy to say, but Joseph’s freedom from bitterness and demonstration of generosity towards those who aggressively hated him is extraordinary.

Still, that was his state at the end of a very long and arduous personal journey. What about all the time in between, especially as he finds himself enslaved in Egypt, followed by unjust imprisonment in a vile dungeon? Shall we assume he took it all in stride as he made up songs about ruling over his family one day? That’s possible, but not probable. It’s reasonable to assume he wondered about his big mouth. Did he really have to talk up his dreams? Too late now, of course. But what if he had kept his big mouth shut?

Perhaps he didn’t give much thought to his contribution to his dismal situation. That would make him even more remarkable than most people think. Most of us spend considerable amount of time with our could’ve/would’ve/should’ves. We obsess over the possibility that we are the ones who got us into our messes. Others blame shift, of course, refusing to take any responsibility for their lives. But that’s a different story for another time. Here I want to address those of us who get stuck over ourselves.

Whether or not Joseph blamed himself partly or completely for his situation, it is clear it didn’t cripple him. Dreams, something that got him in trouble earlier in life, would be key to his release and promotion in Egypt later on. Also, whether as a slave, prison foreman, or Prime Minister; his leadership skills, which may have helped precipitate his tense relationship with his brothers when a teenager, were fully expressed. How many people, when their abilities get them into trouble, out of fear vow to “never do that again”? Some may even think they are being responsible by avoiding the potential damage their God-given abilities may cause. Somehow Joseph didn’t fall into that trap.

Perhaps the way Joseph dealt with the relationship of his brothers’ evil to God’s sovereignty is a clue to how he coped with his own role in the story. Consciously or unconsciously, Joseph’s trust in God set him free to fully function in the role God assigned to him. He knew God was bigger than the outside forces of his life. Obviously, he also learned that God was bigger than his own internal forces as well.

Scriptures taken from the English Standard Version

For the week of December 14, 2024 / 13 Kislev 5785

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

Then he said, “Your name shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with men, and have prevailed.” (Bereshit/Genesis 32:29; English: 32:28)

Each year, when looking over the parsha (Torah reading portion) for this week, I have a hard time not commenting on this verse. I think it is the most astounding verse in the entire Bible. At one level it makes no sense. Not only is the idea of prevailing against God far-fetched in a general sense, but neither is it logical within its immediate context. The mysterious wrestler, who turns out to be God in human form, dislocates Jacob’s hip with a touch. It is clear that he could have completely obliterated Jacob. But instead of simply commending Jacob’s tenacity, he demands to be let go, as if he needed his permission. When Jacob refuses to do so unless the wrestler blesses him, God supposedly gives in and speaks the astounding words above.

There is no doubt in my mind that God remained in control of the situation. It’s reasonable then to conclude that he only made it look like Jacob prevailed over God, not that he actually did. But there’s a problem with this conclusion. The passage clearly says otherwise. Perhaps some scholars attempt to resolve this tension by claiming there’s an issue with the biblical text. However, the conceptual tension the reader faces appears to be deliberate. Of course, no one can prevail against God, but Jacob did anyway. And if there’s an unstated level of hypothetical reality where God only made it appear that Jacob prevailed over him, we miss the point. The point is that this story acts as an invitation to you and me to wrestle with God as Jacob did.

And not just Jacob. Almost every other exemplary Bible character also wrestled with God. I don’t know if they all prevailed, however. Joseph wrestles with God in managing his interpretive gift, throwing him into slavery in preparation for ruling in Egypt. God invites Moses to wrestle with him at the burning bush as part of his call to confront Pharoah. David wrestles with God in the process of his transition from shepherd to royal court musician to warrior to king. Solomon wrestles with stewarding his riches and fame, possessing great wisdom, yet facing severe temptation. Elijah wrestles with God amidst his prophetic call and threats upon his life. Yeshua, the greatest wrestler of them all “offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to him who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverence” (Hebrews 5:7).

This is what being Israel is all about: “striving with God and men and prevailing.” What these Bible characters embody individually also marks Israel as a nation. Beginning with Jacob (though this wrestling factor actually began with Abraham), whether we’ve been aware of it or not, the Jewish people have been thrown into the wrestling ring with God. And against all odds, we have prevailed. It hasn’t always looked like it. And like Jacob and his limp, we don’t always emerge from our struggles unscathed. We’ve suffered extreme loss, we’ve been traumatized, and many have lost faith, but we wrestle. Like Jacob, we haven’t always known that it was God with whom we were wrestling. But through the centuries, time and time again, he has snuck up on us for an all-night wrestling match. And we’re still here. We are Israel. Not only have we survived, but we have prevailed in so many ways, not the least that we have returned to our ancient homeland after 2000 years.

Tragically, for many Christians, not only do they fail to see God’s ongoing engagement with the Jewish people, but they have also tamed the wrestling God. Instead of engaging him on his terms, many have reduced him to some sort of fluffy, therapeutic formula for personal benefit. This god never rocks the boat, doesn’t correct behavior, nor stretches us beyond our perceived capabilities. This god pats us on the head and tells us how wonderful we are. He invites us to avoid conflict and controversy, suffering, and rejection.

It’s time to cast off this false god and get into the ring. Jacob shows us that we can not only survive wrestling with God, but we can become better people for it. That is, if we stick it out long enough, not letting go until he blesses us.

Scriptures taken from the English Standard Version

For the week of December 7, 2024 / 6 Kislev 5785

Vayetzei
Torah: Bereshit/Genesis 28:10 – 32:3
Prophets: Hoshea/Hosea 12:13 – 14:10 (English: 12:12 – 14:9)

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 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 even 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 (a passage from the Prophets that accompanies the weekly Torah portion)—taken from the Book of Hoshea (English: Hosea) 12:13-14:10 in the Hebrew; 12:12 – 14:9 in most English translations. This was likely chosen because it includes a reference to this week’s Torah portion, including Jacob fleeing his brother’s vengeance by going to Mesopotamia.

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 (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 (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, there’s much more to God’s heart towards his chosen ones. A little further down, 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 (14:4-8; 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. 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, shared with 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 amidst 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 undermine his love. We wonder how God could be both absolutely demanding and loving 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—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 30, 2024 / 20 Heshvan 5785
Toledot
Torah: Bereshit/Genesis 25:19 – 28:9
Haftarah: 1 Shmuel/1 Samuel 20:18-42
Note: The following is a revised version of an article I wrote some time ago that is most relevant to this week’s Torah reading.

And Isaac prayed to the LORD for his wife, because she was barren. And the LORD granted his prayer, and Rebekah his wife conceived. The children struggled together within her, and she said, “If it is thus, why is this happening to me?” So she went to inquire of the LORD. And the LORD said to her, “Two nations are in your womb, and two peoples from within you shall be divided; the one shall be stronger than the other, the older shall serve the younger.” (Bereshit/Genesis 25:21-23)

In the classic film, “Fiddler on the Roof”—based on the stories of famed Yiddish writer Sholem Aleichem—the main character, Tevye the Milkman, upon hearing from the local constable of an upcoming pogrom in their small Russian village, complains to God, saying: “Dear God, did you have to send me news like that today of all days? I know, I know, we are the chosen people. But once in a while, can’t you choose someone else?”

This vividly expresses typical Jewish angst over what amounts to be the biblical and theological concept of chosenness. For Jewish people, this is no mere concept. From generation to generation we have heard the stories of the patriarchs and Moses, of David and Esther—that there is something special about being part of the people of Israel. But often, these ancient tales appear to be nothing more than a backstory for so much rejection and suffering. The result is, at times, a deep-seated ambivalence of the kind expressed by Tevye. If this is what it means to be chosen, then “once in a while, can’t you choose someone else?”

The story of the Jewish people hasn’t changed much in thousands of years. No people group has ever been through the kinds of persecution, exile, and attempted genocides that have haunted us since our earliest days. The ugly specter of antisemitism, the Holocaust, and the ongoing threats upon the modern State of Israel have greatly heightened since October 7, 2023. A similar spirit possessed Pharaoh, Haman, and Hitler. The agendas of Assyria, Babylon, Persia, Greece, and Rome were not all that different from the great powers of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Yet we are still here. And, while grateful for our continued place in the world, many of us are confused about our true identity, especially over what it means to be chosen, if we are chosen at all.

Many Jewish people (and a lot of Christians) would be surprised to learn that the New Covenant Writings (the New Testament) effectively resolves this confusion. Paul, so misunderstood in the Jewish world (and in much of the Church for that matter), had a grasp of this issue in a way that Tevye did not. When Paul asks, “Then what advantage has the Jew?” (Romans 3:1), there is no confusion or angst in his answer. But before we look at that, Tevye’s response to Paul’s question, echoed in the hearts of so many Jews, Christians, and others, is just about “none.” For many Jewish people, the negatives outweigh whatever positives there may be. And for many Christians, if there had at one time been an advantage, not anymore. According to them, Tevye’s prayer has been answered since chosenness has been transferred to a new Israel, namely the Church.

But that’s not Paul’s understanding. His answer to “What advantage has the Jew?” is: “Much in every way” (Romans 3:2). He then begins to unpack what that means, starting with the Jewish people’s being entrusted with the Scriptures. Note he is not talking about a metaphorical spiritual concept of Israel as some sort of generic people of God but an actual ethnic group, the Jewish people. He would have more to say about the advantage of being chosen, but he first deals with the implications of the Jewish majority’s current spiritual state to demonstrate that any unfaithfulness toward God on their part in no way undermines God’s commitment to them. He comes back to listing various benefits of chosenness in chapter nine:

They are Israelites, and to them belong the adoption, the glory, the covenants, the giving of the Torah (ESV:the law), the worship, and the promises. To them belong the patriarchs, and from their race, according to the flesh, is the Messiah (ESV: the Christ), who is God over all, blessed forever. Amen. (Romans 9:4-5)

I don’t have time here to fully delve into Paul’s—and God’s—understanding that Israel in Romans, chapters 9–11, is ethnic Israel, the Jewish people. I address this in my booklet God Did Not Reject His People: The Identity of Israel in Paul’s Letter to the Romans, Chapter 11. What I want to discuss here is how the issue of chosenness has been undermined in people’s minds through ongoing painful circumstances.

Tevye was willing to give up his people’s chosenness if it meant no longer facing the trouble that had become all too common in their history. On one hand, who can blame him? On the other hand (If you know Fiddler on the Roof, you know I sound like Tevye now), coming to such a conclusion must mean he had lost touch with the advantages Paul describes.

The Jewish advantage is due to our being chosen by God to be a blessing to the nations (see Bereshit/Genesis 12:3; Galatians 3:8). The curse under which the whole creation groans was doomed from the moment God pronounced it (see Bereshit/Genesis 3:15; Romans 8:19-22). The purpose of choosing the Jewish people was to confront that curse. From the time of Abraham until now that process has been a painful one. Going against the grain entails suffering. The patriarchs understood that, as did Moses and every faithful follower of the true God ever since. While no one bore the brunt of chosenness to the extent that the Messiah did, it is not as if his suffering lessened its heavy burden. In fact, it opened the door for the nations to experience that which at one time was the exclusive calling of Israel.

The Jewish advantage of being set apart to rescue creation from the curse’s effects is now shared by all who trust in Yeshua. But that doesn’t mean the people of Israel no longer carry that burden. They may be unaware of it, like the fictional Tevye and the genuine sentiment he expresses, yet still, because of God’s commitment to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, that burden remains.

It’s a burden, for sure, but a great advantage nonetheless. Despite the hardships of which Tevye had become weary, God continues to work out his purposes through the people of Israel. Whether conscious of it or not, God’s faithfulness to his word is evidenced by the endurance of the Jewish people and the existence of the modern state of Israel.

I wonder how much of the angst and confusion Tevye expressed is due to the Church’s tendency throughout the centuries to refuse to affirm the Jewish advantage as described by Paul. Robbing the Jewish people of their God-given advantage not only undermines biblical truth but breaks the bridge of Jewish restoration upon which God so desires to walk. Followers of the Messiah, both Jews and Gentiles, have the responsibility to reflect the unchanging nature of the Scriptures to which they claim to adhere, including the place of ethnic Israel in God’s salvation plan.

Scriptures taken from the English Standard Version

For the week of November 23, 2024 / 22 Heshvan 5785

Chayei Sarah
Torah: Bereshit/Genesis 23:1 – 25:18
Haftarah: 1 Melachim /1 Kings 1:1-31
Originally posted the week of October 30, 2021 / 24 Heshvan 5782

Abraham gave all he had to Isaac. (Bereshit/Genesis 25:5)

Abraham lived about thirty-eight more years after Sarah died. During that time, he married a woman named Keturah and had several more children through her. This shows that Abraham and Sarah’s inability to have children was due to something to do with Sarah. This was already evident by Abraham’s first son Ishmael whom he had through Hagar, Sarah’s servant, at Sarah’s behest.

That Abraham didn’t have a fertility issue seems to contradict Paul’s statement in the New Covenant Writings, where he writes, “He [Abraham] did not weaken in faith when he considered his own body, which was as good as dead (since he was about a hundred years old), or when he considered the barrenness of Sarah’s womb” (Romans 4:19). This is saying, however, that Abraham reasonably understood himself and Sarah as beyond the age of having children. That the issue all along appears to have been with Sarah is besides the point. As a couple who couldn’t have children, Abraham trusted in God to overcome their infertility in order to fulfill his promise to them.

Abraham accepted God’s particularity regarding his plans and purposes. We see this demonstrated through the dispersion of his inheritance. Abraham and Keturah had six sons. It appears that he also had other children through various concubines (I don’t know if I will ever get used to the idea of concubines in the ancient biblical world). While he provided for all his sons while he was alive, his inheritance went to Isaac alone (see Bereshit/Genesis 25:1-6).

Perhaps you might think this is unfair, but Abraham was following God’s lead. After the birth of Ishmael, God determined that the one to carry on the promise was to be the child born to barren Sarah as we read in Bereshit/Genesis 17:18-19:

And Abraham said to God, “Oh that Ishmael might live before you!” God said, “No, but Sarah your wife shall bear you a son, and you shall call his name Isaac. I will establish my covenant with him as an everlasting covenant for his offspring after him.

The inheritance given to Isaac was not mainly about money or livestock, etc. It was the legacy of the promise of blessing unto the nations (see Bereshit/Genesis 12:3). In God’s providence, he deemed that he would develop through Isaac alone a particular people through whom he would reveal himself to the world and by whom the Messiah and Savior would come.

God’s particularity is a core part of God’s creation design. He made a world where things work in a particular way. To ignore the set principles of the universe is to invite unnecessary trouble. Discovering those principles is not a simple matter. But when the Creator God reveals his truth or gives a direction, we are well-advised to follow his lead.

The particularity of Isaac may seem unfair, but God knows what he is doing. What set Abraham apart is that he was willing to do life God’s way. Careful adherence to God’s direction is the only way to lasting blessing. Abraham’s life models God-inspired effective living for us all.

We might think it is unfair that things work the way they do rather than the way we want them to. Some insist that anything but giving people identical opportunities along with guaranteed outcomes is unfair. Perhaps it is unfair. While we must do what we can to enact justice, protecting the vulnerable and providing for the needy, God made a world of diversity. Humans possess a great variety of strengths, weaknesses, and abilities. Surely some inequality is due to injustice and sin, yet to attempt to create absolute equality at every level undermines the great variety that God instilled into his creation.

A key aspect of that variety is God’s particularity in the development of his rescue operation in and through the people of Israel and as fulfilled in the Messiah. It is humbling to accept that some things are just the way they are. Abraham was wise to accept that. We would be too.

Scriptures taken from the English Standard Version

For the week of November 16, 2024 / 15 Heshvan 5785

Vayera
Torah: Bereshit/Genesis 18:1 – 22:24
Haftarah: 2 Melachim/2 Kings 4:1-37

And Isaac said to his father Abraham, “My father!” And he said, “Here I am, my son.” He said, “Behold, the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?” Abraham said, “God will provide for himself the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.” So they went both of them together. (Bereshit/Genesis 22:7-8)

Traditionally entitled “The Akedah,” the Binding of Isaac is such a wonderful story—that is, once you know the ending. Reading the story from the beginning, however, as I have noted on past occasions, is intensely traumatic. What kind of God is this, who demands of his beloved servant Abraham to commit human sacrifice? What kind of father binds his son to a pile of wood and raises a knife to plunge into his heart? Even after providing the substitute, what did this do to Isaac’s psyche? How did his sons, Jacob and Esau, process hearing what God told their grandfather to do to their father?

From where we are sitting, thousands of years later, we sentimentalize this story, celebrate Abraham’s extraordinary faith, and theologize over the substitutionary act. But to truly appreciate what’s going on here, we need to personally and intimately wade into the story’s dynamics. We are too quick to jump to the end and take comfort in that God didn’t really mean for Abraham to kill his son. Abraham didn’t know that. The New Covenant Writings claim that he anticipated God would do something. We read:

By faith, Abraham, when he was tested, offered up Isaac, and he who had received the promises was in the act of offering up his only son, of whom it was said, “Through Isaac shall your offspring be named.” He considered that God was able even to raise him from the dead, from which, figuratively speaking, he did receive him back. (Hebrews 11:17–19)

Abraham knew God would do something, but he didn’t know what or how. I would like to ponder that here.

Abraham obeyed God, living with the tension of knowing he was trustworthy and capable of doing the impossible while not being clued in on the what or the how. Yet, step by step, he moved forward in obeying God anyway.

I don’t know about you, but I like details. I like to know where I am going and why. I know our plans don’t always work out as expected, but I still prefer to have as much information as possible. You should hear me pray! Often, when I face a problem and lay it out before the Lord, I tend to provide him with a multiple-choice list: “O God, do you want me to do this, that, or the other thing?” I am sure he appreciates my giving him options to choose from! Don’t worry. I am aware of what I am doing. I know I tend to try to solve my problems on my own instead of simply offering them to him. Of course, we should be working out problems as needed and able. And, sometimes, we struggle with choosing between reasonable options. There’s nothing wrong with praying accordingly. But other times, we don’t know what to do and need God to come through for us. Abraham’s journey to Moriah with Isaac was like that.

Step by step, day by day, more unknowns than knowns, with the knowns being as strange as strange can be. And yet, he kept on keeping on, trusting God knew what he was doing. Abraham even told Isaac, “God will provide for himself the lamb for a burnt offering, my son” (Bereshit/Genesis 22:8). True words indeed, even though he had no idea how God would provide. And provide he did. It wasn’t until the last second that God stayed Abraham’s hand. He was working all along, preparing the ram for a substitute. But from Abraham’s perspective, the provision was a surprise.

We don’t know about surprises until they happen. That’s what makes them a surprise. Until then, we live without being conscious of them. That’s fun when it’s a special gift or event, but another matter when we go through challenging times. I wonder how many of us resist such challenges because we don’t have enough details. Abraham knew there was more going on than what he was aware of. But he did it because God, the God of surprising provision, called him to.

Scriptures taken from the English Standard Version

For the week of November 9, 2024 / 8 Heshvan 5785

Lech Lecha
Torah: Bereshit/Genesis 12:1 – 17:27
Haftarah: Isa 40:27-41:16
Originally posted the week of October 28, 2023 / 13 Heshvan 5784 (updated)

On that day the LORD made a covenant with Avram, saying, “To your offspring I give this land…” (Bereshit/Genesis 15:18)

Important note: Having been providing TorahBytes for many years—in fact, based on the Jewish calendar, it’s twenty-seven years this week—as part of my preparation, I glance back at previous messages. I do this mainly to avoid unnecessary repetition and look for potential repostings. When reposting, I try to choose one that’s several years old, thus increasing the likelihood that current users haven’t encountered it before or, if they have, forgotten it. I am making an exception with this message, however. It’s from last year, but most worthy of repeating. More than that! It’s essential that I do. Not only is it foundational for understanding the whole Bible, but also for knowing how to effectively navigate the times we are in.

The October 7, 2023, Hamas terror attack on Israel was not only the worst day for Jewish people since the Holocaust, it changed the world in more ways than what  most people realize as a demonically inspired threat upon Western civilization was unleashed. Whether or not the events of the past few weeks have deterred that threat for now or not is yet to be seen. Regardless, to claim to value Scripture but ignore God’s ongoing faithfulness to the Jewish people undermines its effectiveness.

*     *    *

The following is a slightly edited version of last year’s post.

It is no exaggeration to say that we may be on the brink of a catastrophe hitherto unknown in history. I hope I am wrong—that the current crisis in Israel will calm down, but not until the demonic evil unleashed by Hamas on October 7 is destroyed. I have no illusions; however, if, by God’s grace that happens, it will manifest again soon and probably worse.

Serious readers of Scripture have no reason to be unaware of the dynamics at play, including why so much fuss is made over one of the smallest countries on the planet. Yet, not only are most people unaware of such things, but they have also reduced the truth of the Bible to a detached spirituality of the inner life while failing to grasp its global implications and all-encompassing importance. Core to this misguided spirituality is the disregard for the centrality of the people of Israel and the land of Israel in God’s plan.

This week’s parsha (weekly Torah-reading portion) is foundational in this regard. It begins with Avram, whose name is later changed to Avraham (you can figure out the English versions of his name yourself, I am sure). The God of all creation, who made everything “very good” (Bereshit/Genesis 1:31), determined to one day rid the universe of the curse he imposed on the earth due to our first parents’ rebellion against him (see Bereshit/Genesis 3:17-19). Described as the bruising or crushing of the serpent’s head (see Bereshit/Genesis 3:15), we are given no details on how this plan was to be worked out until this parsha. If Avram ventured to the alien land God would show him; he would make him a great nation and bless the entire world as a result (see Bereshit/Genesis 12:1-3). One of Avram’s most famous descendants would call the promise of blessing the nations, “the good news” or “the Gospel” (see Galatians 3:8).

The agreement, contract, or covenant (they all mean the same, by the way) that God established with Avram included an aspect that Bible readers have tragically ignored. People often called the covenant made with Avram unconditional, but it did have one condition—a condition he fulfilled. He had to go to a specified location. It wasn’t until he arrived there that God said, “To your offspring I will give this land” (Bereshit/Genesis 12:7). The land, therefore, was a crucial aspect of God’s covenant with Avram, which was later passed on to his son Isaac (see Bereshit/Genesis 26:2-5) and grandson Jacob (see Bereshit/Genesis 28:13-14).

But did you know how essential the land promise to Avram was? As we also read in this week’s parsha, sometime later, God says to him: “Fear not, Avram, I am your shield; your reward shall be very great” (Bereshit/Genesis 15:1). Avram’s trusting response to God’s telling him that, despite his ongoing childlessness, his descendants will be like the stars of the sky, is an appropriate high point for many Bible believers as it demonstrates the importance of faith.

Following that interchange, God has Avram perform a covenant ritual whereby he was to cut up some animals (see Bereshit/Genesis 15:7-20). Apparently, this was a traditional covenant-making ceremony. The Hebrew for “make a covenant” is actually “cut a covenant,” probably taken from the cutting up of the animals. The two parties would walk together between the pieces to declare that if either fails to live up to their covenantal obligations, may they become like the cut up pieces. But note that Avram doesn’t walk between the pieces. Instead, he sees the unusual site of a smoking firepot and a flaming torch passing through them. Commentators consider this an indication that God was taking the full covenantal obligation on himself, so that if either party would break the covenant, God alone would suffer the consequences. We see this happen in the person of the Messiah, of course. But neglecting the context of this prevents us from seeing an key aspect of God’s commitment to the people of Israel. God’s self-imposed covenantal obligations to the people is not only about the people. Here’s what God says when he reiterates the covenant to Avram:

To your offspring I give this land, from the river of Egypt to the great river, the river Euphrates, the land of the Kenites, the Kenizzites, the Kadmonites, the Hittites, the Perizzites, the Rephaim, the Amorites, the Canaanites, the Girgashites and the Jebusites (Bereshit/Genesis 15:18-21).

God’s covenant with Avram includes the land, guaranteed! Should Avram or his descendants (those through Isaac and Jacob) fail in their covenantal obligations, God himself would bear the punishment. Do you know what this means? Yeshua’s death doesn’t only ensure your reconciliation with God by faith, but also upholds Israel’s right to their God-given land.

Scriptures taken from the English Standard Version, except that “Abram” is changed to “Avram.”

For the week of November 2, 2024 / 1 Heshvan 5785

Noach
Torah: Bereshit/Genesis 6:9 – 11:32
Haftarah: Isaiah 66:1-24

And God blessed Noah and his sons and said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth.” (Bereshit/Genesis 9:1)

I like to think of the story of Noah and the flood as God’s reboot, a system refresh. Seeing that human beings, whom he made in his image, had become deeply corrupted, we read, “And the LORD regretted that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart” (Bereshit/Genesis 6:6). And yet, he did not wholly give up on his creation project, including on human beings. I imagine he could have completely obliterated Planet Earth, but he didn’t. Instead, his commitment to his original plan led him to restart what he had initiated “in the beginning” (see Bereshit/Genesis 1:1).

There is reason to believe that the post-flood world was different in some ways from the Earth’s original design, including permitting humans to eat animals (see Bereshit/Genesis 9:3) and significantly reduced lifespans. But for the most part, God’s creation project was moving ahead as planned. Central to that plan is the essential role he gave to human beings. As creatures made in his image, men and women, despite our corrupt nature, we were to continue to represent him on Earth. God, the ultimate king of the universe, determined that we should rule Planet Earth under his direction (see Bereshit/Genesis 1:26, 28).

This unique leadership role underlies God’s very first directive: “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth” (Bereshit/Genesis 1:26). As humans were to rule over the entire planet, it was necessary to reproduce accordingly. Note that the issues arising from Adam and Eve’s disobedience in no way undermined this foundational command as it is repeated to Noah (see Bereshit/Genesis 9:1, 7)—a command that has never been rescinded or modified in any way.

As a father of ten (now adult) children, I am aware of how controversial and emotional the topic of human reproduction can be. I don’t have the space here for a deep dive into all the concerns and reactions people may have. But let me offer this: I believe that at the core of this issue is the inability or unwillingness to view ourselves from God’s perspective. I am painting this as personal on purpose. Much of the negativity in our society towards God’s unchanged directive to be fruitful and multiply can be found in the mirror. I don’t mean you are the problem necessarily; it’s that we human beings have such a low view of ourselves that, given the choice, we don’t want too many of us around.

Most of us don’t believe what I attempted to explain in last week’s message, You Are God’s Great Idea. Even those with a positive self-image don’t realize how great an idea we are. Zero population advocates and other extreme environmentalists don’t only warn us of the existential threats plaguing our planet today; they insist that we are the problem. I admit that we cause great problems. The Bible agrees but also clearly asserts that we are the solution.

Some may react to such a statement, insisting God is the only solution to the Earth’s problems. That’s true, but how does he do it? God is determined to work out his purposes for Planet Earth through his image bearers, human beings. Not only do we see this in his reiterating his reproduction directive, but in his taking on human form as the Messiah to eventually bring about the new creation. But doesn’t the actions of the Messiah prove the failure of human beings to fulfill our God-given mission? Not if I read the Bible correctly. The Messiah’s actions equip those loyal to him to join him in fulfilling God’s purpose for humankind. He doesn’t replace or distract from our being God’s image bearers but rather enables us to become everything we were made to be.

Once we, as human beings, understand who we really are and what we are called to do, I suspect that our perspective on reproduction would become overwhelmingly positive. Combine that with God’s promise of provision according to our needs (see Matthew 6:25-34), how many more children might we welcome into the world?

Scriptures taken from the English Standard Version