Don't Follow Your Heart

Haftarah for B’har-B’chukotai

by Rabbi Russ Resnik

Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young. (Bob Dylan, Planet Waves)

Have you ever wished that you could start over? That you could be “forever young”—going back to your earliest years of life to erase all your mistakes, cancel all your debts, undo all your sins?

This may sound like wishful thinking, but it was a reality in the Torah legislation of the Jubilee. From one Jubilee to the next, the Israelites counted forty-nine years—seven sevens of years. Seven, the number of perfection, was itself perfected. Then came the fiftieth year, in which Moses instructed the people to “proclaim liberty throughout all the land,” so that “you shall return, each man to his holding and you shall return each man to his family” (25:10). The liberty of Jubilee restores to its original owners any land holding that had been sold, and to his family any Israelite who had sold himself into slavery. Jubilee returns Israel to the original order that the Lord intended for it, the order that he will restore forever in the age to come. The sages of the Talmud said that Jubilee provides a foretaste of “the day that will be all Shabbat, and rest for everlasting life” (b.Tamid 33b).

Our haftarah for the combined reading of B’har-B’chukotai, however, reflects the challenge of getting from this age to the age that is all Shabbat, for “the sin of Judah is written with a pen of iron; with a point of diamond it is engraved on the tablet of their heart” (Jer 17:1). Lest we think that Jeremiah is speaking only of Judah’s heart condition, and not of the heart condition of the whole human race, he continues a few verses down:

The heart is deceitful above all things,

and desperately sick;

who can understand it?

I the Lord search the heart and test the mind,

to give every man according to his ways,

according to the fruit of his deeds. (17:9-10)

The heart is deceitful and “desperately sick” is one of the great counter-cultural statements of Scripture. In an age in which we’re taught to follow our hearts, the words of Jeremiah provide a radical rebuke. You can’t trust your heart. God is looking for fruitful deeds, not lofty sentiment. But the prophet also gives hope, reflecting the hope of Jubilee and restoration outlined in our double parashah: 

Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed;

save me, and I shall be saved,

for you are my praise. (17:14)

This prayer of hope has been incorporated into the Siddur as the eighth blessing of the Amidah, the traditional series of blessings recited every day. The Siddur changes its language from singular to plural: “Heal us O Lord and we shall be healed; save us and we shall be saved, for you are our praise.”  

Jeremiah reveals that the hope of restoration, the jubilee to come, is greater than the threat of failure and punishment—and that this hope doesn’t depend on us, but on the healing, restorative power of Hashem. He is our praise! The corporate language of the Siddur reflects other portrayals of this same promise throughout Scripture, showing that it is not only a personal hope, but a promise for all Israel, and the whole of humankind as well.

The accounts of the coming of Messiah echo this hope, as well as the barriers to be overcome on the way to it. When Yochanan the Immerser was bound in prison, he sent two of his disciples to ask Yeshua, “Are you the Coming One, or do we look for another?” Yeshua answered in the language of Jubilee, specifically, like Jeremiah, the language of healing and restoration. The restoration of the age to come had already broken into this age, so Yochanan should know who Yeshua was. “Go and tell Yochanan the things that you hear and see: The blind see and the lame walk; the lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear; the dead are raised up and the poor have good news proclaimed to them. And blessed is he who is not offended because of me” (Matt 11:2–6).

But why would one be offended by Yeshua? Because he claims to be Messiah at a time when the Jubilee is not fully established. Yochanan remains imprisoned. Roman armies occupy the land of Israel. But Yeshua shows that the Jubilee has indeed begun with his arrival in Israel, and so will inevitably be fulfilled. In the meantime, do not be offended, but maintain hope.

Once when I was talking with a non-Messianic Jewish friend about Yeshua, he said, “OK, Yeshua is a great guy. I’ll even accept that he is the greatest guy, but Messiah—who knows? Besides, who needs a Messiah?”

I could have reminded my friend of the Jeremiah’s warning. The heart is deceitful and desperately sick—and “Who needs a Messiah” is one of its lies. Or on a friendlier note I could have said that I need a Messiah and Yeshua has proved himself as Messiah to me . . . and that if you ever figure out that you need a Messiah, Yeshua will be there for you too.

Instead, I focused on the corporate aspect. You may not realize that you need a Messiah, but you cannot deny that this world does. Just look at the suffering, injustice, and oppression all around us. Yeshua embodies the hope of liberty, of a return to God’s order and justice that is rooted in the Torah and reflected throughout our Scriptures and prayers. Yeshua has already launched a restoration that has had immeasurable impact on the world we live in, and is evidence of the redemption to come. My personal story of salvation is only a foretaste of the worldwide Jubilee that Messiah will bring.

It’s fitting that our traditional prayers expand Jeremiah’s plea for healing from the singular to the plural. In age when each person is urged to follow his or her own heart, Scripture pictures a redemption that goes far beyond the personal to bring hope to all the nations, as in the opening words of our haftarah:

O Lord, my strength and my stronghold,

my refuge in the day of trouble,

to you shall the nations come

from the ends of the earth . . . (Jer 16:9)

Adapted from Creation to Completion: A Guide to Life’s Journey from the Five Books of Moses, by Rabbi Russell Resnik, Messianic Jewish Publishers, 2006

Back to the Basics

Haftarah for Parashat Emor

by Michael Hillel, Netanya, Israel

Growing up as a teenager on the Mississippi gulf coast, I could not wait to finish high school and spread my wings and fly. I was operating under the youthful understanding of freedom as being free of restraints. It did not take me long, however, to discover the error of my thoughts. You see, my choice for expressing that freedom was to join the US Marine Corps.

The first stop on my freedom trail was Marine Basic at Paris Island, South Carolina. Dressed according to the fashion of the day, I got off the bus in blue jeans, combat boots, a t-shirt and a blue jean jacket with a Confederate flag on the back (I did mention I was from Mississippi, remember). I never saw that jacket again. It went the way of my hair, which, while not exceptionally long, was definitely not standard Marine length. During the next three months I learned much and can confidently say that the boy who got off the bus was totally different from the Marine that left Paris Island two and a half months later. My attitudes toward life changed as well. Instead of a hypothetical concept of freedom, I was now looking at what it meant to be a Marine, as well as actually being a man of integrity.

This week’s haftarah portion, Ezekiel 44:15–31, relates to the parashah in that it contains regulations for which the priests would be responsible. Among the restrictions and limitations described, two verses are probably more important than all the other ritual requirements in the passage. Hashem, speaking through Ezekiel, gives this charge to the priests:

They will teach My people the difference between the holy and the common and explain to them the difference between the unclean and the clean. In a lawsuit, they will stand to judge, and judge in accordance with My ordinances. They will keep My laws and My statutes in all My moadim and keep My Shabbatot holy. (44:23–24, TLV)

Notice it says “They will teach", not “they will minister”, or “they will mediate”, both of which are priestly responsibilities. In his commentary on this haftarah, Dr. Meir Tamari brings to our attention the root of the word Kohen (priest) and related words. The root is K-H-N and related words are nakhon, “correct” or “suitable” for a certain purpose, and meikhin, “to prepare” or “to provide a firm clear basis” (Truths Desired by God [Jerusalem: Gefen Publishing House, 2011] 169). Priests are to prepare the people of Israel and correct them so they walk the correct way.

Maybe the prophet understood the future adage, Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime. Only instead of a fish, the priests were to teach the people of Israel how to discern right from wrong, and what is moral and ethical from what is not. The relationship Hashem wanted with his people was never intended to be one-sided or to be a spectator sport where the people watched the priests do their thing. So much so that Hashem gave Israel a Day-Timer, so to speak, with specific meeting times throughout the year to meet with him and to serve as a reminder of his care and grace on their behalf.

Some of the rules and regulations seemed to separate the kohanim from the common people, especially in their function as priest and mediator. However, as teachers, guides, and judges, the kohanim were one with the people. They had to learn Hashem’s ways so that they could teach Israel. Being a teacher, then like today, comes with its own special set of problems. A teacher’s life and practice are often scrutinized and inspected for shortcomings. In his letter to the Messianic believers in the Diaspora, where learning the ways of the Lord would be a bit more difficult due to foreign rule, culture, and society, James wrote, “Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers and sisters, since you know that we will receive a stricter judgment” (3:1 TLV). Teaching is not to be avoided but teachers need to realize that they are responsible not only for the material being taught, but also for the lives in which they are investing. Look, for example, at Yeshua’s training of the Twelve. They did not come to class a couple hours a day and then go off to work or play or whatever. For approximately three years the Twelve did seemingly everything together with Yeshua— not only learning the Master’s words but experiencing his life and habits as well. His charge to them was to follow him (Mark 1:17), to learn from him, to emulate him.

We are each a teacher to someone, possibly even without our knowledge. Within our sphere of influence, there are people that desire a closer relationship with the Lord but do not know how to get it or maybe maintain it. There are others who, knowing of our faith, think we are a bit meshuga, while at the same time they are curious about why we are doing what we are doing. Some folks need the intensity of Marine Basic Training, while others just need a gentle guide or a soft word to learn what they need next. Are we up to the task of teaching his people? If not, let’s be willing to learn together as we journey with him.

The Gift That Bears Responsibility

Haftarah for Acharei Mot-Kedoshim

Rabbi Isaac Roussel, Congregation Zera Avraham, Ann Arbor, MI

Whenever there is a double parasha like this week, usually we read the haftarah associated with the second parasha. With Acharei Mot-Kedoshim (Leviticus 16:1–20:27), however, this is not the case; we read the haftarah from the first parasha, Acharei Mot.

Why this departure from the norm? The reason is that the content of the haftarah of Kedoshim is less than desirable. The reading is from Ezekiel 20, which details the woe that will be visited upon Israel for its sins against God. It is often referred to as Hatishpot from verse 4, which means, “Are you willing to pronounce judgment?” This begins the dark litany of Israel’s sins. Just as we read the Torah portion of the sin of the golden calf in a subdued voice, our Sages desired not to read this haftarah unless it was absolutely necessary.  So when the portions were combined, the custom developed to read the selection from the Prophets for Acharei Mot instead of Kedoshim. This haftarah is taken from the ninth chapter of Amos. It, too, contains words of judgment upon Israel but it also offers words of comfort and hope.

Parashat Kedoshim opens with the verse, “You shall be holy, for I, the Lord your God, am holy” (Lev 19:1). This implies that Israel has a unique relationship with God. This is attested in other passages as well, where God says that we are a treasured possession (Deut 7:6), engraved on his palms (Isa 49:16), and the apple of his eye (Zech 2:8).

The opening verse of our haftarah seems to challenge this. “To me, Israelites, you are just like the Ethiopians, declares the Lord. True, I brought you up from Egypt, but also the Philistines from Caphtor and the Arameans from Kir” (Amos 9:7). There are many different views, both positive and negative, on what this verse means. Rashi interprets it as a rebuke. God is telling Israel that he is concerned for all peoples, not just them. Therefore Israel should not assume that she will go unpunished for her sins. Amos points out that chosenness is not just a gift, but a gift that bears responsibility.

Christianity tends to view God’s demand of holiness as primarily ethical in nature. God is holy and good, therefore he demands that his people be as well. While this is true, Judaism has a significantly different understanding. The reason for the demand for holiness is primarily covenantal rather than ethical. God chooses Israel, redeems her, and establishes a relationship that includes responsibilities on both God’s part and Israel’s.

Israel is a partner with God in the redemption of the world. Partners have obligations under the covenant that establishes that partnership.

Kedoshim details over fifty different mitzvot that are part of this covenantal relationship. This fact emphasizes that our pact with God is primarily based on deeds, not faith. If we act in an ill manner, we reflect poorly on Hashem, the Lord. This is called Hillul Hashem in our tradition; Defamation of God’s Name. We have this impact because we are connected to him in a special relationship. Just as an employee represents a company, or a child represents a family, we represent God. Our actions matter. 

This difference between Christian and Jewish (and, hence, Messianic Jewish) understanding cannot be overstated. The Church has been grafted into these covenantal responsibilities as well. The Church can learn this perspective from our movement.  

We are covenantally obligated to lead a life of Torah and mitzvot. If we do so, we enhance our unique role. If not, we undermine it and merely become like any other nation on earth.

May we live up to our calling of being partners with Hashem.

May we lives of Kiddush Hashem; sanctification of his Name.

And thereby seal ourselves as a Kingdom of Priests and a Holy Nation. A truly treasured possession of God’s.

God Has Bigger Plans

Haftarah for Shemini, 2 Samuel 6:1-7:17

Dr. Vered Hillel, Netanya, Israel

The haftarah for Parashat Shemini contains two crucial events in the development of ancient Israel, whose ramifications affected the entire world.

After David was crowned king in Hebron (2 Sam 5:1–5), he conquered Jerusalem (vv. 6–10) and defeated the Philistines (vv. 17–25). Our haftarah picks up just following these events, when King David decides to bring the Ark of the Covenant up to Jerusalem from the home of Abinadav, where it had remained since being returned to the Land of Israel by the Philistines in the time of Samuel (1 Sam 6:21–7:2).

The haftarah can be divided into three or four distinct parts. Part one (2 Sam 6:1–15), the story of David bringing the Ark to Jerusalem, has two sub-parts: 1) the aborted attempt to bring the Ark from the house of Abinadav when Uzzah was killed for touching the Ark, and 2) the successful attempt to bring the Ark to Jerusalem from the House of Obed-Edom where it had rested for three months. Part three (7:1–17) includes the conversations between David and Nathan about building the Temple as a permanent dwelling place for the Ark, and the promise of a perpetual house (dynasty) for David’s lineage. Sandwiched between these two monumental events is a snippet of David’s domestic life (6:16–23): his interactions with his wife, Michal, who brusquely rebukes him for acting in a manner that was unbefitting a king during the celebration.

Thus, our haftarah begins with the Ark at rest in the home of Abinadav and ends with the promise of its future home in the Temple.

The death of Uzzah for grasping the Ark clearly connects the haftarah with the parasha, which records the deaths of Nadav and Avihu for offering “strange fire” in the Tabernacle on the day of its dedication (Lev 9). These episodes are puzzling. Why did Hashem kill these three men for their actions? Was there sin, or were there character flaws, to justify such drastic punishment? Were wrong motives the cause? We can speculate much, but the Bible tells us nothing explicitly. We do, however, get the impression that they were serving God, but were they acting according to his instructions, or from their own experience? Once again, we cannot definitively answer this question, but it does challenge us to look at our own lives. We need to ask ourselves whether we are serving God out of specific directions from him and his word, or assuming that our own reasoning and experience can properly guide us in serving God properly.

David’s request to build a permanent home for the Ark and Hashem’s response emphasize seeking direction from God. Three months after the death of Uzzah, the Ark is brought to Jerusalem and set in a tent that David provides (2 Sam 6:17). However, David desires a more permanent building for the Ark. At first, Nathan the prophet encourages David to do what he desires, but later that night, Nathan receives a prophecy to the contrary. In the morning Nathan returns to David and tells him what Hashem has said. Initially Hashem deflects David’s request. Since the Exodus he has been dwelling in the Tabernacle, which was a suitable dwelling place, and moved about with Israel.

In a twist of irony, it is not David who will build a house for Hashem, but Hashem who will build one for David.

Hashem promises that he will provide a safe place for the people of Israel where they will have relief from all their enemies, and that he will build a permanent dynastic house for David. The promise that divine favor will never be withdrawn from David’s family, as it was from Saul’s descendants, provides the basis for the Davidic Dynasty and the Davidic covenant that eventually was understood as a divine promise of the Davidic messiah.

Early in the prophecy, Hashem asks David, “Are you the one to build a house for me?” (2 Sam 7:5). This question leaves room for someone else to build the Temple. Hashem promised that one of David’s descendants would be the one to build a house for him (2 Sam 7:13). Physically this is fulfilled by Solomon, who at the dedication of the Temple presents himself as the legitimate heir of the dynasty. But both the question and the promise that a descendant of David would build the house for Hashem refer to a greater messianic hope. The kingship and renewed Temple have been two pillars of messianic hope in Judaism ever since then. Yeshua is the promised son of David who fulfills these prophecies made so long ago and provides us with the hope for a greater, permanent restoration and dwelling place with Hashem.

David desired to build a house for God; this was his own reasoning and way of serving Hashem. His desire came from being a man after God’s own heart. Yet Hashem had different plans, the results of which were way beyond the desire of David’s heart.

He desired to provide a permanent place for Hashem to dwell on earth in the midst of Israel. God’s plans were bigger and broader than David imagined. He desired a permanent dwelling among men through the enfleshment of Messiah Yeshua. The same is true for us today. Hashem’s plans are bigger and greater than our hearts’ desires. We serve God through Yeshua with all of hearts. We learn to walk after him and in his ways. Still we need to remember and to be aware to seek his direction and counsel.

As we walk out our relationship with God and work out our salvation (Phil 2:12), may we all be like David, whose heart’s desires led to Hashem’s greater plans, and like Moshe who chose to know God’s ways and not just the things he does (cf. Ps 103:7), and like Yeshua who was willing to follow his father’s directions even unto death, which led to his resurrection and ascension, and provided redemption for the world.

Messiah’s Job Description is Also Our Own

Haftarah for Shabbat Pesach VIII, Isaiah 10:32–12:6

Rabbi Stuart Dauermann, PhD

We are a community excited about Messianic prophecy. It fortifies our faith in our claims about Yeshua, and we look to texts like this week’s haftarah reading to equip us for propagating and defending our faith. All of this is good.

But it would also be good for us to realize that we who are intimately joined to him through repentance, faith, and immersion in his Spirit, are also meant to bear his image. After all, we are reminded, “as the Messiah is, so are we in the world” (1 John 4:17). Yeshua himself reinforced this radical identification when he told his disciples,

If the world hates you, understand that it hated me first. If you belonged to the world, the world would have loved its own. But because you do not belong to the world—on the contrary, I have picked you out of the world—therefore the world hates you. Remember what I told you, “A slave is not greater than his master.” If they persecuted me, they will persecute you too; if they kept my word, they will keep yours too. (John 15:18–20)

The Apostle Paul applied this principle even to a Messianic prophecy which he referenced by extension to himself and his team at Pisidian Antioch.When the synagogue there rejected their message, he responded by citing Isaiah 49, which applies to Messiah:

It was necessary that God’s word be spoken first to you. But since you are rejecting it and are judging yourselves unworthy of eternal life—why, we’re turning to the Goyim! For that is what Adonai has ordered us to do: “I have set you as a light for the Goyim, to be for deliverance to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 13:46–47, CJB, emphasis added)

All of this being true, let’s ask and answer this question: “How, if at all, ought the description of the Messiah in Isaiah 11, part of today’s haftarah, also be true of us?” The description opens with these words:

But a branch will emerge from the trunk of Yishai,
a shoot will grow from his roots.
The Spirit of Adonai will rest on him,
the Spirit of wisdom and understanding,
the Spirit of counsel and power,
the Spirit of knowledge and fearing Adonai. (Isa 11:1–2)

This passage is almost universally recognized as referring to Messiah, as Avraham Ibn Ezra reminds us in his 12th century commentary. How it applies not only to Messiah but also to us is an important issue which, when taken seriously, sets a demanding job description before us individually and collectively. I suggest strongly that we take it seriously, for the same one of whom Paul said “Adonai has ordered us to do (this)” is ordering us as well. What then is he ordering us to do, out of our Spirit-embodied solidarity with the Risen One? As God’s obedient servant-children, we will:

• walk in understanding that the same Spirit rests upon us as rested upon him
• manifest wisdom and understanding in all relationships and circumstances of life
• embody sound counsel wedded to spiritual power
• be characterized by both knowledge of holy things and reverence for Adonai
• judge not by what our eyes see or our ears hear, which can be deceptive, but judge justly and fairly for the disenfranchised and powerless
• deal decisively and appropriately with social evils and wickedness as we encounter them
• have a reputation for justice and fairness.

And if we will consistently and increasingly do these things, inspired by the example of Yeshua our risen King, and imbued with his very own Spirit, we will make an irreplaceable contribution to a world where

• characteristic animosities will be reversed (11:6–8)
• peacefulness and wholeness will replace the spirit of violence and opposition so prevalent today (11:9)
• relational knowledge of and experience with the Divine Presence will become richly and universally manifest
• and the fullness of Israel and of the nations for which all creation awaits will be accomplished (11:10–16).

Or, on the other hand, we can let things continue as they are, exacting from ourselves no uncomfortable demands, while not bothering to be agents of change in the world. We can just let tikkun olam be somebody else’s job.

What choice will we make? And how will that choice be embodied in what we plan and what we do from this time forward?

We are accountable for whatever may follow.

The One Who Doesn’t Change

Shabbat HaGadol, Malachi 3:4–24

by Dr. David Friedman, Union rabbi, Jerusalem

One of the most compelling verses in the Prophets comes in this week’s haftarah reading: "Since I, ADONAI, have not changed, so you sons of Jacob have not been annihilated” (Mal 3:6, my translation).

This verse certainly had great meaning in its peshat (plain sense) to Malachi’s hearers in the 5th century BCE. It gave a reason for the Jewish exiles in the Persian Empire to understand why they were thriving and being treated remarkably well. It imbued them with hope for their future. Yet I cannot help but think that it reveals a general principle that has held true for our Jewish people throughout our entire history.

In Malachi’s time, the return to Israel by the descendants of the Babylonian exiles was underway. Scholars surmise that Malachi was active at the time of Nehemiah and Ezra, or just afterwards. Israel had committed idolatry, leading to the exile. Yet Malachi 3:6 relays the reason that this exile was not permanent, and why the Babylonians (and later the Persians) did not commit genocide against our people.

It is undoubtedly the same reason why the Crusades, the Inquisitions, the Eastern European pogroms, the Muslim conquests across the Middle East, and the Holocaust did not totally destroy our Jewish people. This is also some of the reason why the diasporas in Egypt, Babylon, Europe, the lands of the Middle East, Europe and the West have not resulted in the disappearance of the Jewish people. God has “not changed.” He still has promises to fulfill to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, given some 1,200 years before Malachi lived. They were still valid in his day. Looking backwards in time, God inspired Malachi to share this powerful truth with our ancestors: God will fulfill the promises he made to our forefathers. The fulfillment of these promises necessitates that the Jewish people will be alive, and be in the Land of Israel.

It is not usual to dwell on just one verse in a haftarah commentary. Yet there is so much more to say about this same verse. Malachi 3:6 is also of importance to us today, some 2,500 years after he uttered it. That is one powerful truth, to still ring true throughout such a long passage of time!

How are Malachi’s words instructive to us today?

As anti-Israel sentiment gains ground across the Middle East; as Israel-hatred and the BDS movement continue on as “popular” and “politically correct” policies in much of Europe, Malachi’s truth can encourage us. As Lebanon is home to 150,000 rockets that are aimed at Israel, and as Iran verbally threatens Israel with total annihilation on a weekly basis, undeterred from their plans by any Western powers, Malachi 3:6 has a message for us today. It meshes with the tone of the entire body of Scripture, including this verse:

And Judah will exist forever, and Jerusalem, from generation to generation (Joel 3:20, my translation).

Malachi 3:6 supports the message of Joel 3:20, among many other verses that portray Israel as being present at the time of Messiah’s return.

Our haftarah also includes Malachi 3:17, which delivers a powerful, parallel message of God’s protection over the people of Israel:

They (the Jewish people) will be mine, says the God of the Heavenly Armies. For on the day that I will make them a king’s treasure, then I will give them abundant mercies, as a father has mercy on his son, who works alongside him. (My translation)

In this verse, the Hebrew word segulah is used for “king’s treasure.” This word describes how God views the people of Israel in the times beyond Malachi’s lifetime. In this verse, we learn that God’s love, mercy, and calling to Israel have not abated. This word, segulah, is the same word that is used in Exodus 19:5: “then you will be my own treasure from among all the peoples, for all the earth is mine” (Exod 19:5b, my translation). The earth’s King is speaking through Malachi’s message, and so it is the King’s treasure that the prophet speaks about.

Our haftarah ends with a summary lesson. Our rabbis possibly put the book of Malachi as the last book of the Latter Prophets due to this very lesson. They wanted this lesson to echo in the collective memory and lives of our people until the renewal of all things, and Messiah Yeshua's return. Here it is:

Remember the Torah of Moses my servant that I taught him at Horev, for all Israel; the laws and judgments.

Look, I am sending to you Elijah the Prophet before the coming of the Day of the great and awesome God.

And he will return the heart of fathers to their sons, and the heart of sons to their fathers, or I would come and strike the earth with utter destruction. (Mal 3:22–24, my translation)

This “Torah of Moses” includes the promises to our forefathers. Malachi helps us to remember the precious Torah, our Bible, through these three verses and through a verse like 3:6.

With Passover beginning shortly, let us remember that our freedom from Egypt was given so that we could follow Messiah without hindrance in our own Land. Because God has not changed (see 3:6 again), we are alive and carry that same calling that was given to Moses and his generation. We are their continuance today. And this Shabbat, Malachi is our encourager to continue on, because God is still the same God that he was 3,300 years ago, when he spoke from Mt. Sinai.

May you all have a healthy and Happy Passover.

From Jerusalem, Rabbi David

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Hope Undying

Shabbat HaChodesh 5778

by Rabbi Russ Resnik

This week culminates in Shabbat HaChodesh, the New Moon of the first month (March 16–17), which means Passover is only two weeks away, at the full moon. Now, New Moon might sound like an esoteric topic in our high-tech urban world, but we’ll see that it’s actually most relevant—not just to the simple agricultural life of our ancestors, but to our lives as well.

New Moon observance was definitely relevant to the imperial authorities who ruled over Israel in the time of the Maccabees. To consolidate his power, Emperor Antiochus sought to force the Jews into the mold of the dominant Hellenistic culture. According to some sources, he banned three essential mitzvot: circumcision, Shabbat, and blessing the New Moon. Now, the first two mitzvot are Jewish identity markers given in Torah (Gen 17:11; Exod 31:13, 17). But why a ban on blessing the New Moon? Because on this mitzvah the entire Jewish calendar depended. Without an official notice of the New Moon, the rest of the calendar would collapse. Passover and the rest of the holy days would soon be lost.

There’s an additional reason for the ban, which Antiochus might not have been aware of, but the evil spiritual forces behind his strategy were. New Moon is a sign of renewal, of the unquenchable resiliency of the Jewish people.

Just as the moon disappears at the end of each month, but returns and grows in fullness, so Israel may suffer exile and decline, but it always renews itself [better: is always renewed by God]—until the coming of Messiah, when the promise of the Exodus and the Revelation at Sinai will be fulfilled, never to be dimmed again. (Artscroll Chumash on Exod 12:2)

In this week’s Haftarah reading, Ezekiel portrays the renewed temple of the Age to Come, and the “prince” who serves within it. 

It shall be the prince’s duty to furnish the burnt offerings, grain offerings, and drink offerings, at the feasts, the new moons, and the Sabbaths, all the appointed feasts of the house of Israel. . . . Thus says the Lord God: In the first month, on the first day of the month [the new moon], you shall take a bull from the herd without blemish, and purify the sanctuary. (Ezek 45:17a, 18)

The New Moon will continue to be marked and sanctified, even in the Age to Come. Its importance is underscored in the genealogy of Messiah as Matthew summarizes it: “Thus there were fourteen generations from Avraham to David, fourteen generations from David to the Babylonian Exile, and fourteen generations from the Babylonian Exile to the Messiah” (Matt 1:17 CJB). Fourteen doesn’t represent the literal number of generations in each segment; rather, it is the numerical equivalent of “David” spelled dalet, vav, dalet in Hebrew. Dalet is the sign for four and vav for six, so dalet vav dalet, David, equals fourteen, underlining Yeshua’s descent from King David.

Moreover, fourteen is the number of days between the new moon on day one and the full moon on day fifteen. Matthew is framing his genealogy within the cyclical renewal of the moon. Abraham is like the new moon, bringing the first light of revelation, which finally shines forth in fullness with the arrival of David (Matt 1:2–6). From David’s reign, the kingdom declines until the moon disappears with the Babylonian Exile (Matt 1:6–11), and then is renewed and grows great again from the Exile to the full light of Messiah’s coming (Matt 1:12–17). (I first heard this interpretation in a seminar by Dr. Mark Kinzer.)

Messiah’s story, however, doesn’t end with his coming, but with his resurrection, the first installment of the great resurrection to come. Just as the moon rises again out of the darkness to renew the lunar cycle, so Messiah rises again from death to bring light to the world. The New Moon of the first month begins the two-week countdown to Passover, the festival of past redemption that anticipates the redemption to come, the resurrection at the end of the age, as we say, “Next year in Jerusalem!”   

Our haftarah imagines a future observance of Passover a the Lord instructs the prince: “On the fourteenth day of the first month you are to have the Pesach, a feast seven days long; matzah will be eaten” (Ezek 45:21). Hope, symbolized by the waxing moon, is so central to life with God that the prophet envisions the annual cycle of New Moon and Passover continuing on in the Age to Come.

In Messianic faith, resurrection hope is even more central. Rav Sha’ul reminds us of the Good News “which you received, and on which you have taken your stand . . . namely, the Messiah died for our sins, in accordance with the Scriptures; and he was buried; and he was raised on the third day, in accordance with the Scriptures” (1 Cor 15:1, 3–4).

Hope, renewal, resurrection are as inherent to the life of faith as the waxing moon is to the cycle of the year. Resurrection isn’t just a bullet-point in our belief list, but a hope on which we stand. Belief in the resurrection is essential not only because it gives individual consolation in the face of death, but because it suffuses the entire story of humankind and God with hope.

We see this hope resting upon Messiah Yeshua:

But now Messiah has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. . . . For as in Adam all die, so also in Messiah will all be made alive. (1 Cor. 15:20, 22)

So, let the New Moon remind us that in Messiah we always have hope.

• Amid the chaos and despair all around us, we build lives of meaning and purpose.
• Amid the onslaught of materialism and unbelief, we know the human story is headed for redemption.

We don’t have a guarantee that our lives are going to be more exciting, prosperous, trouble-free than the lives of others. We have something better: an undying hope that doesn’t depend on ourselves, but on the one who arose from the dead during Passover long ago.

God’s Reputation is at Stake

Parashat Vayakhel-Pekudei, Exodus 35:1–40:38

by Rabbi Aaron Allsbrook, Ohev Yisrael, Springfield, VA

God is a specific God. He loves details. He shares these details with his servants. His children hear his voice and they obey. This week’s parashah deals with many details of the building of the mishkan (tabernacle). It reminds me of building Legos as a kid. One saw the final product on the cover and then went through page by page, step by step, as to how to build the foreseen picture. Bezalel, Oholiab, and many unnamed others had the privilege of constructing this heavenly design here on earth. Dimensions were given, materials were specified, how to connect the parts was explained, and the people all gave of their own possessions so that this could be accomplished. It was to be an amazing structure, something praiseworthy, a true treasure to have in the midst of this newly redeemed people.

The purpose of this building was to house the presence of God and allow the people to approach him, with certain degrees of closeness for different people. It was situated in the midst of this nomadic camp. Eventually, God would specify where he wanted it to rest permanently once the Hebrews dwelled securely in the land of Canaan.

Reading through the descriptions of the exactitude and specificity of the mishkan’s materials and design, one can’t help but be impressed. The amount of gold, silver, bronze, and copper is staggering. The tapestry and craftsmanship were of the highest level. And to make it even more impressive, this was all collapsible and able to be reassembled so it could go with the people on their journeys.

This awesome transportable building eventually became the temple of Solomon, a structure made of stone and cedar, one even more ornate and grandiose than the mishkan. It was a sight that gave the people hope, pride, and security, knowing that the house of the presence of God was in their midst.

While this house was amazing in both its incarnations, one had to be of a certain level of cleanness to be able to enter into it. If someone became unclean through contact with a dead person, say on the field of battle, or being in one’s home when a relative died, that person was unable to enter God’s home. This person had to be cleansed, and, once again, God is very specific as to how one does this.

In this week’s special maftir (additional reading) for Shabbat Parah (Num 19:1–22), we read about an elaborate procedure in which a red heifer is burned outside of the camp, whose ashes, mixed with some other specific elements, would purify the impure and allow that former outcast to be welcomed back into the presence of God.

All of this, however, can go a step further. In the haftarah for this Shabbat (Ezek 36:16–38), God is quite upset with Israel. Israel is in exile, the temple is razed, and the people have done something much worse than becoming unclean: they’ve defiled the name of God in the eyes of the nations to which they have been exiled. The people did terrible things while in the land of Israel, spilt innocent blood, created and worshiped idols, and sacrificed to false gods alongside the temple service. This made the land and the people unclean, and it defamed the name of God, the worst sin of all.

The nations knew that Israel is the people of God and yet they were driven from their land (Ezek 36:20). While this embarrassed Israel for sure, it made God look really bad. The God that took his people out of mighty Egypt, destroyed the seven nations of Canaan, gave Solomon the wisdom to build his mighty empire, now must deal with the question, “What happened to the nation of Israel? Weren’t they supposed to be different?”

God won’t let his reputation become tarnished, so he tells Ezekiel about a time to come when God himself will cleanse his people so that their behavior will bring God glory, so that he may once again dwell in the midst of his people, and so that they nations may know that “the Lord, he alone is God” (1 Kings 18:39).

Yeshua teaches us to let our good works shine so that others may see them and give glory to our Father in heaven (Matt 5:16). What we do either gives God glory or makes him look bad. The good news is that now, in the new covenant, prophesied about in the haftarah, the Spirit of God guides us to walk in his way (cf. Ezek 36:27). Why? So that God is glorified! He does this for his sake (Ezek 36:22), so, starting with Israel and going out into the nations, all may know that he alone is supreme and indescribably merciful.

With this amazing work of God, we are to broadcast what he’s done. So I pose a question: who knows what God has done? Only you? Your family? Your congregation? Is God receiving glory for how he has purified you from dead works into righteousness, how he is bringing you from glory to glory, deeper into his presence, now accessible to all in boldness through the work of Messiah Yeshua? Our congregations and all our congregants are to be living billboards that market the glory of God. We cannot hide this, minimize this, or rationalize not sharing it. God went into such painstaking detail to build his earthly dwelling place and to purify those who were unable to enter it. Likewise, he guided Yeshua specifically where to go and what to say (cf. John 5:19, 8:28) so that he could bring us into a deeper intimacy with his presence, something that would transform us.

We are transformed so that we may bring him glory by our good works. More than the beauty of the mishkan, our behavior makes our Father look good. So, be specific about what you do; God’s reputation is at stake.

Signs of His Presence

Parashat Ki Tisa, Exodus 30:11–34:35

by Dr. Vered Hillel, Netanya, Israel

In Parashat Ki Tisa the Israelites are in the desert waiting for Moses to come down from the mountain (Exod 24:18). Up until this point the narrative in Exodus has moved rather rapidly: the enslavement of Israel, the events leading up to the calling of Moses, the drama of the plagues culminating in the killing of the first-born, the events of the first Pesach, the Exodus itself, the splitting of the Sea of Reeds, and traveling through the desert to Mt. Horeb. Suddenly, the fast-paced and miraculous events have stopped. Israel waits.

Israel waits and waits for Moses who is at the top of the mountain meeting with Hashem. They do not know what is transpiring on the mountaintop. All they know is that their leader is gone. We, the readers, however, know that Moses is receiving detailed information from Hashem. Over the past few Torah portions, we’ve been eavesdropping on their conversation: in Parashat Mishpatim we hear about the laws governing community life, and in Parashat Terumah and Tetsaveh about the instructions for building the Tabernacle. B’nei Israel, however, has no idea what is happening. All they know is that they are in the desert with no permanent home, no idea where they are going or what they should be doing, and to top it off, with seemingly no leader to direct them. This moment of uncertainty, anxiety, and fear precipitates the building of the Golden Calf.

The people’s demand for a “god” seems to stem from Moses’ disappearance and their want of a visible, tangible object that would recall Hashem’s presence in their midst. I say this because Hashem indicts Israel for making a molten calf, not for worshiping other gods, and he does not accuse them of turning aside from him, but of turning “aside from the way that I enjoined upon them” (Exod 32:8). No matter their intentions, B’nei Israel acted rashly, impulsively, and corruptly, and the consequences of their apostasy were dire; Moses smashes the tablets inscribed by Hashem, and Hashem sends a plague on Israel. In a tragic irony, instead of a reassuring tangible symbol of the continuing presence of Hashem in their midst, their chosen symbol, the calf, becomes the instrument of their alienation from him. Notice that Hashem tells Moshe, “Hurry down for your people, whom you brought out of the land of Egypt, have acted corruptly” (Exod 32:7). In contrast, until now in the Exodus narrative Hashem has said “my people” (Exod 3:7, 10; 5:1; 7:4, 16, 26; 8:16–19; 9:1, 13, 17; 10:3, 4; 22:24).

We are also privy to Moses’ intercession on behalf of B’nei Israel and of Aaron to turn Hashem’s anger from them. In the Torah, Israel does not learn of this matter until later, when Moses recounts the Golden Calf episode in his final address to B’nei Israel just before they cross over into the Promised Land. At this time Moses shares how it was only by his intercession that Israel and Aaron were saved from Hashem’s anger and desire to destroy them (Deut 9:12–22). Hashem listens to Moses, and by the end of our parashah the relationship between Hashem, Israel, and Moses is restored.

Like Israel, we too can find ourselves in situations where we need more than an abstract idea of God, where we need the tangible reassurance of God’s presence and of our relationship with him. This week’s parashah gives two such signs. The first is Shabbat. The last instruction Hashem gave to Moses on Mt. Sinai before he descended with the inscribed tablets was to tell Israel that they “must keep My Sabbaths, for this is a sign between Me and you throughout the ages, that you may know that I the Lord have consecrated you” (31:12–18). At the end of our parashah Moses descends from the mountain with the second set of tablets. In next week’s parashah, vaYakhel, Moses addresses the assembled community, beginning with a command to keep Shabbat (Genesis 35:1). Thus, Shabbat forms an inclusio, a set of bookends, around the Golden Calf episode, showing that Hashem had already provided a tangible sign of his presence. Though Shabbat was sanctified by God at creation for all time (Gen 2:3), Hashem called Shabbat a sign of the relationship between himself and Israel. Hashem had provided for Israel before they recognized their own need. When we find ourselves in uncertainty, anxiety, or fear, longing for some sign of Hashem’s presence, let’s not act rashly and impulsively as our ancestors did, but remember that Hashem has given Shabbat as a sign, as a reassurance of his presence and of our relationship with him.

The second tangible sign is the Tabernacle. Like Shabbat, the Tabernacle sandwiches the incident of the Golden Calf, which falls between the giving of the instructions for the Tabernacle (25:1–30:10) and its construction (35:1–40:38). Also, like Shabbat, the placement of the Tabernacle before and after the Golden Calf incident is a planned response to the people’s need of a visible sign of Hashem’s presence. It is a place wherein they could encounter Hashem and gain access to him. In his instructions to Moses, Hashem stated that he would meet with Israel between the cherubim (Exod 25:22). The Tabernacle is a tangible expression of Hashem’s presence and of the ongoing nature of the covenant between God and Israel. Today this can be expressed in Shabbat, which as Abraham Joshua Heschel has noted, is a concrete sanctuary in time (The Sabbath: Its Meaning for Modern Man [New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2005], 8–10).

Looking forward in time from Mt. Sinai to Yeshua, we see another concrete sign of God’s presence. As the Word become flesh, he tabernacled among us (John 1:14), and after ascending and being seated at the right hand of the Father sent Ruach Hakodesh (John 14:26) in his stead. May we all cling to the tangible signs of his presence—Shabbat, Tabernacle, and Yeshua.

Dressing for Service

Parashat Tetzaveh, Exodus 27:20–30:10

by Michael Hillel, Netanya, Israel

This week is Shabbat Zachor, the week immediately preceding Purim. In honor of the special Shabbat, the maftir (additional reading) is taken from Deuteronomy 25:17–19, which describes the attack of Amalek. Before we consider the maftir’s connection to Purim, however, let’s turn to the parashah itself.

Tetzaveh continues the instructions for the use of the terumah offering collected in last week’s parashah, specifically the oil for the menorah whose light was to burn continually, and the vestments and garments of Aaron, his sons, and his descendants. After this, Aaron, his sons, and the altar of burnt offerings are consecrated, and the regulations concerning the altar of incense are given.

A good friend writes, “Clothing is a prominent theme throughout the Bible” (Keren Hannah Pryor, A Taste of the Torah [Marshfield, MO: FFOZ, 2016] 100). Clothing is significant throughout Scripture, from the clothes God designed for Adam and Chavah in the Garden (Gen 3:21), to the wedding gown of the bride for her marriage to the Lamb (Rev 19:8). At times it provides covering against the elements, and at other times it serves as a symbol of rank or status. Using the imagery of clothing, the Psalmist describes Hashem as the one who is “robed in majesty! Adonai has robed and armed Himself with strength” (Ps 93:1). Isaiah, in his vision, saw Hashem, “sitting on a throne, high and lifted up, and the train of His robe filled the Temple” (Isa 6:1). This week’s parashah spends a substantial amount of time, 39 verses in total, describing in intricate detail the garments and vestments of Aaron, his sons, and their descendants (28:4–42). The next verse tells us the reason for such detailed information:

They [the garments and vestments] are to be worn by Aaron and his sons when they go into the Tent of Meeting or when they approach the altar to minister in the holy place, so that they do not become subject to guilt and die. It is to be a statute forever, to him and to his offspring after him. (Ex 28:43)

Practically, these garments set apart Aaron, his sons, and his descendants from the people of Israel. They were protection for them as they ministered on behalf of the people. This protective aspect of the priestly garments is reminiscent of the full armor of God that Rav Shaul encouraged the believers in Ephesus, as well as us today, to wear continually (Eph 6:10–18).

But being set apart and protected were not the only reasons for the special priestly clothing. As the parashah begins to wind down we read the words of Hashem,

“So I will sanctify the Tent of Meeting and the altar. I will also sanctify Aaron and his sons to minister to Me as kohanim. So I will dwell among Bnei-Yisrael and be their God. Then they will know that I am Adonai their God, who brought them forth out of the land of Egypt, so that I may live among them. I am Adonai their God.” (Ex 29:42–46)

These closing words bring us back to the beginning of last week’s parashah, “Have them make a Sanctuary for Me, so that I may dwell among them” (Ex 25:8), as well as to the first words of the Decalogue, “I am Adonai your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage” (Ex 20:2). The ultimate goal for the Exodus, for the Mishkan, and for the Covenant itself is restoration of Hashem’s fellowship and communion with his people, Israel.

That which was lost in the Garden is being restored, first in relationship to Israel and then through Israel to the entire world. We proclaim this goal each time we recite the Aleinu at the close of every service:

All the world’s inhabitants will realize and know that to You (Adonai) every knee must bow and every tongue swear loyalty. . . . And then it is said, Adonai will then be King over all the earth. In that day Adonai will be Echad and His Name Echad (Zech 14:9).

In that day, all the peoples of the earth will come up to Jerusalem to worship the King, Adonai-Tzva’ot. The fellowship and relationship of the Garden will be restored, and the culmination of creation will be recognized through the agency of Messiah Yeshua, as it is written, “at the name of Yeshua every knee should bow, in heaven and on the earth and under the earth, and every tongue profess that Yeshua the Messiah is Lord—to the glory of God the Father” (Phil 2:10–11).

Beginning the eve of February 28 this year, we celebrate Purim as commanded by Mordecai the Jew by the permission of King Ahasuerus (Est 9:20–22). In the special maftir this Shabbat, we read how Israel was commanded to remember the evil perpetrated against them by Amalek as they came out of Egypt (Deut 25:17–19). King Saul was commanded to eradicate the Amalekites, but sadly, he did not do as he was told (1 Sam 15:2–3). His actions not only affected him, his family (he forfeited his dynasty), and his generation, but they also laid the groundwork for the episode recorded in the book of Esther. Haman, who sought to destroy the Jewish people is identified as “son of Hammedatha the Agagite—enemy of the Jews” (Est 3:10). Agag was the king of the Amalekites, whom King Saul spared.

Let us learn from this week’s parashah that just as Aaron and his sons had to be properly attired to minister before Hashem (Ex 28:1-2), we too need to be properly attired as encouraged by Rav Shaul, “Put on the full armor of God, so that you are able to stand” (Eph 6:11), not only against the schemes of the evil one, but more so that we too may minister before the LORD in whatever capacity He chooses for us.

Shabbat Shalom!

Unless otherwise noted, all Scriptures are from the Tree of Life (TLV) translation of the Bible. Copyright © 2015 by The Messianic Jewish Family Bible Society.