For the week of May 3, 2025 / 5 Iyar 5785

Tazria & Metzora
Torah: Vayikra/Leviticus 12:1-15:33
Haftarah: 2 M’lachim/2 Kings 7:3-20

This day is a day of good news (2 M’lachim/2 Kings 7:9)

This week’s Haftarah (selected reading from the Hebrew Prophets) includes one of the Scriptures’ most surprising turnarounds. The northern kingdom of Israel’s capital city, Shomron (English: Samaria), was under siege by the Arameans (ESV: Syrians). The famine was so severe that the people were eating their own children! Eventually, the prophet Elisha prophesied a sudden end to the siege and a complete economic upturn. In the natural, this was impossible.

In the meantime, four men afflicted with leprosy decided to surrender to the Arameans, thinking they had nothing to lose given their desperate situation in the city. The mention of these men is likely why this story was chosen for the Haftarah, since the parsha (Torah reading portion) refers to leprosy. To their surprise, when they arrived at the enemy’s camp, it was deserted. We read:

For the Lord had made the army of the Arameans (ESV: Syrians) hear the sound of chariots and of horses, the sound of a great army, so that they said to one another, “Behold, the king of Israel has hired against us the kings of the Hittites and the kings of Egypt to come against us.” So they fled away in the twilight and abandoned their tents, their horses, and their donkeys, leaving the camp as it was, and fled for their lives” (2 M’lachim/2 Kings 7:6–7).

As the men helped themselves to the goods left behind, they realized they shouldn’t keep this turn of events to themselves. They said to each other, “We are not doing right. This day is a day of good news. If we are silent and wait until the morning light, punishment will overtake us. Now therefore come; let us go and tell the king’s household” (2 M’lachim/2 Kings 7:9). The Hebrew word, translated as “good news” in the English Standard Version and others, is b’sorah.

Interestingly, the Septuagint (LXX), the ancient, standard Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures, translates b’sorah here as euangelion. This is the word used in the New Covenant Writings (the New Testament), which in English became “gospel” or “good news.” Surveying b’sorah in the Hebrew Scriptures demonstrates that the news so proclaimed wasn’t necessarily always “good” for everyone. It depended on how you related to the particular news being announced.

That’s certainly true for Israel’s turn of events in this story. What was good news for Israel was bad news for the Arameans. Messiah’s b’sorah is different as its universal goodness is based on how we relate to it. If we receive Yeshua on his terms, then it’s good beyond comprehension. However, not only will it not go well for those who reject him, but also how such people regard this otherwise good news becomes warped and severely misconstrued.

There’s other news this week that functions similarly to Messiah’s b’sorah. Like the story in the Haftarah, it has to do with a remarkable turnaround in the history of Israel. But like Messiah’s b’sorah, its goodness depends on how we relate to it. Tragically, many people’s view of this, like the Gospel, is entirely obscured by all sorts of misunderstandings and conflicting values. I am referring to Yom Ha’atzmaut, Israel Independence Day. This Thursday marks seventy-seven years since the birth of the modern State of Israel. The return of the Jewish people to our ancient homeland is b’sorah, which should be proclaimed and celebrated worldwide if only people understood it correctly.

Some of the remarkable aspects of this include: the modern state of Israel was established after 2000 years of exile from our ancient homeland in the wake of attempted genocide (two-thirds of the European Jewish community, half of the worldwide Jewish community, died in the Holocaust). After Israel declared independence, Israel survived the united onslaught of five Arab nations and, within the next three years, absorbed 700,000 Jewish refugees and immigrants, doubling its population. Through it all, it integrated a vast array of languages and cultures and revived Hebrew as a living everyday language after more than two thousand years. Despite ongoing existential challenges, Israel has thrived in so many ways, including being an extraordinarily pluralistic and democratic society and a world leader in agricultural, medical, and computer technology.

I could go on, but that won’t change the fact that a great many people don’t regard Israel’s miraculous rebirth as good news—anything but. This tragic misunderstanding reflects a view of the world contrary to God’s plan and purposes. To navigate the world effectively and be the people God desires requires a biblical view of Israel, one that can celebrate the good news of another anniversary.

Scriptures taken from the English Standard Version

For the week of April 26, 2025 / 28 Nisan 5785

Sh’mini
Torah: Vayikra/Leviticus 9:1 – 11:47
Haftarah: 2 Shmuel/2 Samuel 6:1 – 7:17

As the ark of the LORD came into the city of David, Michal the daughter of Saul looked out of the window and saw King David leaping and dancing before the LORD, and she despised him in her heart. (2 Shmuel/2 Samuel 6:16)

Many years ago, a good friend mentioned that when contempt invades a marriage, the marriage is doomed (for a brief, professional take on the matter, see The Gottman Institute’s article on this subject). It is a frightening thought that such an invasion is possible. I don’t know why my friend brought it up that day. I don’t think we were discussing our marriages at the time, and, for the record, we are both still married. In fact, my wife and I will be celebrating forty-five years in a few weeks!

Modern psychologists are not the first to notice the devastating effects of contempt on relationships. This week’s Haftarah (special reading from the Hebrew Prophets) vividly illustrates the point. The version I read says that David’s wife Michal “despised” him in her heart. The Hebrew word for despised here is bazah. Other translations use contempt, disgust, and hatred. It was how Esau considered his birthright in Bereshit/Genesis chapter twenty-five, when he came home exhausted and traded his birthright to his younger twin brother, Jacob, for a single bowl of stew. In other words, he couldn’t care less about his birthright. This is the kind of disdain that Michal felt towards David, having seen him unabashedly celebrate  along with the servant girls as he brought the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem. For the record, there is no indication that David was dancing naked, as some believe. Instead, it appears that he was dressed in a most simple manner, like a commoner, not in royal garb. This seriously irked his wife. His childlike exuberance, his mixing with the common people, and his simple appearance diminished him in her eyes. She may have been embarrassed as she herself felt diminished by his child-like humility.

Whatever the reason, her husband became very small in her eyes. She no longer saw him for the man he was. Not only did she disregard his God-given position as King of Israel and a man after God’s own heart, but she could no longer grasp his innate value as a fellow human being equally made in God’s image. Instead, she looked down on him and greeted him with insults.

The result, according to the passage, was that she never bore children. Note that while it doesn’t say that God punished her for her attitude, this may be implied. Don’t get me wrong. Infertility isn’t necessarily a punishment from God. But in this case, Michal’s disdain for her husband damaged their relationship. Her not having children may not have been due to divine intervention, but perhaps due to their not having sexual relations again.

Obviously, there are details about David and Michal’s relationship that we don’t know. And that’s part of the brilliance of biblical storytelling. The lack of detail allows their story to resonate with our own. It should be clear that contempt is a relationship killer, be it contempt for a spouse, a parent, a child, an employer or employee, a customer, or a political or religious leader, and so on. This is in no way to say we should ignore differences and problems. Far from it! Contempt signifies an unwillingness to address them. We might be afraid to call others to account. Or we don’t want to acknowledge that there might be aspects of our own lives that need attention. Whatever it is, it’s much easier to look down on others and criticize than to work through our issues. Is that really what we want?

Scriptures taken from the English Standard Version

For the week of April 19, 2025 / 21 Nisan 5785

Pesach
Torah: Shemot/Exodus 13:17 – 15:26 & B’midbar/Numbers 28:19-25
Haftarah: 2 Shmuel/2 Samuel 22:1-51
Originally posted the week of April 11, 2015 / 22 Nisan 5775

You shall eat no leavened bread with it. Seven days you shall eat it with unleavened bread (matza), the bread of affliction – for you came out of the land of Egypt in haste – that all the days of your life you may remember the day when you came out of the land of Egypt. (Devarim / Deuteronomy 16:3)

If you attended a Pesach (English: Passover) Seder the other day, or any other time for that matter, you most likely heard the following words when the matza (English: unleavened bread) was uncovered near the beginning of the evening: “This is the bread of affliction that our forefathers ate in the land of Egypt.” But perhaps you didn’t know that calling the matza “the bread of affliction” is taken directly from the Torah.

The word for “affliction” in Hebrew is “a’-nee,” and refers to being in an oppressive state, such as hardship or poverty. Matza as a key symbol of Pesach would always serve as a reminder of the great suffering in Egypt with or without referring to it as the bread of affliction. But the verse I quoted at the beginning makes it sound as if the matza is not a reminder of the slavery experience but of freedom: “eat it with matza, the bread of affliction – for you came out of the land of Egypt in haste – that all the days of your life you may remember the day when you came out of the land of Egypt.”

Indeed it was the rush to leave Egypt following the tenth and final plague that is the reason for the eating of matzah. We read:

The Egyptians were urgent with the people to send them out of the land in haste. For they said, “We shall all be dead.” So the people took their dough before it was leavened, their kneading bowls being bound up in their cloaks on their shoulders (Shemot/Exodus 12:33-34).

So if the matza is connected with leaving Egypt, why is it not called “the bread of deliverance?” The answer is found a few verses later. Regarding the preparation of the unleavened dough they took with them,

And they baked unleavened cakes of the dough that they had brought out of Egypt, for it was not leavened, because they were thrust out of Egypt and could not wait, nor had they prepared any provisions for themselves (Shemot/Exodus 12:39).

Even though the exodus from Egypt was a momentous liberating event, in its own way it too was a hardship. Anyone who has been released from long-term personal or corporate abuse knows how difficult such transitions can be. Free from slavery, yes, but Israel had to endure a harsh, unknown wilderness with little to no prepared provision. This resulted in all sorts of next-to-impossible challenges to the point that some would eventually pine after their former slavery. Unless they learned to depend on God, they wouldn’t make it. And many didn’t. Almost the entire adult generation that left Egypt were kept from entering the Promised Land due to their unfaithfulness to God (see Bemidbar/Numbers 13 – 14).

After the initial euphoria of newfound freedom subsides, the harsh realities of strange and perhaps hostile environments, a lack of familiar social structures and personal and communal resources must be faced with tenacity and hope for a better future. Whether it be an immigrant from a worn-torn land or someone newly distanced from an abusive situation, denying the reality of the new challenges faced by freedom can create unnecessary obstacles to the benefits of freedom.

The matza does more than simply remind us of the hardship of liberation, however. It assures us that the God who frees us will give us all we need to face the challenges of newfound freedom. It’s not always easy to walk in freedom, but he who rescues us from bondage, will also equip us to live free.

Scriptures taken from the English Standard Version

For the week of April 12, 2025 / 14 Nisan 5785

Zav
Torah: Vayikra/Leviticus 6:1 – 8:36 (English: 6:8 – 8:36)
Haftarah: Malachi 3:4-24 (English 3:4 – 4:6)
Originally posted the week of March 28, 2015 / 8 Nisan 5775 (updated)

The LORD spoke to Moses, saying “Give Aaron and his sons this command: ‘These are the regulations for the burnt offering: The burnt offering is to remain on the altar hearth throughout the night, till morning, and the fire must be kept burning on the altar.'” (Vayikra/Leviticus 6:1-2 [English: 6:8-9])

For most of us, the concept of sacrifice is foreign. We don’t offer God animals, grain, and so on. Yet, sacrifice is a central element of the Torah and one that has ongoing relevance to us.

While sacrifices of this nature have become redundant under the New Covenant, there is much to be learned by studying them. Let’s look at one basic concept that will help us better relate to God and life.

The sacrifices prescribed by the Torah for individuals were to be taken from things the people themselves already owned. When you sacrificed something, you gave of what you yourself had. In fact, provisions were made for the poor so that they, too, could give of what they had. You could not borrow something to sacrifice or offer something on behalf of someone else.

And so, when an offering was made, you were giving back to God that which God had first given to you. Whatever benefits were derived or obligations were met due to a particular offering, you were always acknowledging, consciously or unconsciously, that God had a right to what you possessed.

Grasping this concept enables us to relate to our possessions as God intends. We often define ourselves by what we have. While the rich may be the objects of resentment, we tend to have the highest regard for those with the most material goods. Don’t we refer to these people as “well off,” even though they might be miserable? Parting with our stuff forces us to find our identity and well-being elsewhere.

We also believe that our possessions are for us to do with as we please. Children learn the meaning of “mine” from a very early age. Yet the very first chapter of the Torah establishes our role as stewards of the planet. God is the possessor of everything. We are called to care for, not own, things. How easily we fool ourselves! Unless we learn this lesson, the more stuff we have, the more they will possess us. The sacrifices of the Torah release our grip on what we have. Giving back to God helps us realize that we do not depend on what we own as we thought.

By calling for sacrifice, God exercises his claim upon more than just our possessions—he is claiming us. The whole purpose of the Torah was to restore people to a right relationship with him. What happened in the Garden of Eden was a misuse of God’s provision. Our first parents failed to accept that we have no right to do with the creation however we please—a lesson we still have trouble learning.

God wants us to give ourselves to him in every way. He is not really interested in our stuff. He wants us.

God knew sacrifice was the only way to bring us back to himself. The ancient offerings never made much of a difference, so God himself offered his own sacrifice: his Son, Yeshua the Messiah. God gave us what he had so we could fully give ourselves to him.

Scriptures taken from the English Standard Version