Why Don't Messianic Jews Wear Crosses?

My wife was recently asked why she didn’t wear a cross necklace. The person seemed distraught and maybe even a bit offended that she chose not to do so. To understand why Messianic Jews do not display Christian symbols such as this requires understanding of the power of symbols and the history of Jewish-Christian relations.

It is important for us to realize that people have different reactions to the same symbol. For example, white Southerners may look at a confederate flag and take pride in their heritage. It may generate memories of hearth and home, good southern cooking, the friendliness that the South is known for, and so forth.  To an African-American, however, it is a symbol of slavery, oppression, and suffering. Two very different reactions to the same symbol.

In like manner, members of the LGBTQ+ community see a rainbow flag and may feel joy, pride, and a feeling of security. People who disagree with that lifestyle can react much differently. They may feel that their religious and family values are threatened. Again, two different reactions to the same symbol.

So it is with crosses. When a Christian looks at a cross, it invokes warm feelings about God’s mercy, sacrificial love, and salvation for the world. For a Jew, it is more akin to the confederate flag for an African-American; it can denote oppression, a history of pogroms, forced conversions, and anti-Semitism.  

This reaction is due to the long and dark history of relations between Jews and Christians; a history that many modern Christians are unaware of. When the movie “The Passion of the Christ” came out, I was telling a good friend of mine about the negative reaction to the movie by the Jewish Community. She, as a devout Christian, couldn’t understand why. She blurted out “It is about sacrificial love, how can that be seen negatively?!” I then proceeded to explain to her that this is a movie version of an Easter Passion Play. In the Middle Ages, Christians put on these plays that quite often erupted into mobs going after the “Christ-killers” raining death and destruction upon their Jewish neighbors. The concern of the Jewish community, even here in America, was that this movie might lead to acts of anti-Semitic violence.

This conversation led me to create a lecture called “The Passion About the Passion” where I detailed the long and sad history of persecution of Jews by Christians in the name of Christ. I was invited to speak at a church and decided to present this material. I talked about the forced conversions, expulsions from countries, the Inquisition, and the like. Their reaction was stunned silence. As they somberly filed out of the sanctuary, one person came up to me and whispered, “We had no idea”. She was nearly in tears.

So while the cross is a symbol of love and sacrifice for a Christian, it can mean something entirely different to a Jewish person. Some Christians, wanting to express their love for Israel, will wear a Star of David with a cross on it. Wanting to display love and respect, instead they are unknowingly displaying something that can be quite offensive.

A foundational tenet of Messianic Judaism is that although we are followers of Yeshua (Jesus) we are still very much a part of the Jewish people; we are still Jews. This is our message. Faith in Israel’s Messiah does not require Jews to quit being Jews, as the church has so often taught throughout the last two thousand years. In fact, we believe that faith in Yeshua enhances our Judaism and drives us to be more faithful to the covenant that God established between Himself and Israel through Moses. How can we, as members of that community, wear a symbol that invokes such negative feelings and memories? We cannot. It would send a message to our fellow Jews that we identify with that dark history, and that we see ourselves not as Jews, but as Christians who used to be Jews. In short, we would denote ourselves as Hebrew Christians rather than Messianic Jews.

In fact, Messianic Jews, as members of the Jewish people and co-heirs of this dark history of Jewish-Christian relations, should themselves feel a bit uneasy and ambivalent with the symbol of the cross. This statement may be seen as shocking to some, but I hope that this article has helped to explain why I can make such a statement.

We love Messiah Yeshua. We seek to faithfully follow his teachings as any Christian does. Choosing not to wear a cross in no way undermines our devotion and commitment to him.  And we know that our Christian brothers and sisters do not intend for the cross to denote oppression and suffering, but in fact the opposite; sacrificial love and mercy. But we are also Jews, and because of the horrific twisting of the Yeshua’s message by the Enemy throughout the ages, we cannot in good conscience wear a symbol that is so beloved by the church.

Does this mean that we feel Christians should also not wear crosses? By no means! It is a meaningful and beloved symbol of God’s love and Jesus’ sacrifice for the world. The cross is as much a part of their identity as the Star of David is for Jews. Messianic Jews should encourage Christians to use and display their symbols, as they bolster their faith and devotion to God and His Messiah.

Terumah- Building a Home For God

Our parsha begins “Speak to the children of Israel, and have them take (for) Me an offering; from every person whose heart inspires him to generosity, you shall take My offering. And this is the offering that you shall take from them: gold, silver, copper…”

Shemot Rabbah, a midrash on Exodus, connects these verses with Proverbs 4:2 which says “I give you good doctrine; do not forsake my Torah.” How are these connected? It’s because the word “doctrine” in Hebrew is “le-kach”, which means something received or taken away. It is based on the verb Lakach, which means to take. This equates to the three times that Hashem uses the word take in the opening verses of the parsha. So the midrash sees the building of the Mishkan as an exchange of gifts. God gives us His Torah, and we build Him a home in the midst of the people.

 It is likened to a king who marries off his only daughter to a prince who will take her to another kingdom. The king says the prince, “I love my daughter so much and will miss her greatly. Please do this for me, build a wing onto your palace so that when I come to visit her I may stay.”

In this midrash, God is the king and his daughter is the Torah. The Mishkan is God’s place that Israel builds so that He can be near to her. So he gives Israel the Torah and Israel in turn builds Him a home. This is further indicated in that the word “take” is used in terms of marriage. For example, in one verse it says that when a man takes his wife in marriage, he doesn’t have to go to war.

But how do we build God a home? This, too, is hinted at in our opening verses. Rashi says that the three references to offerings (terumah) refer to three different donations given. The first, where God says “li terumah”, take for me an offering, is the half shekel donation to build the silver sockets that hold the walls of the tabernacle together. The second, where God says “terumati”, my offering, refers to the half shekel donation for communal sacrifices. The third, where God says “ha-terumah”, the offering, refers to all of the materials donated to build the Mishkan.

 But why does the third one only have details and the other two don’t? And why is there no mention of God with this third donation? It doesn’t say “take for me” or “my offering”, it simply says “the offering”.

 Midrash says that these three offerings refer to how we build a home for God in this world. The donation for silver wall sockets refers to the Torah. Just as the walls are the foundation of the Mishkan, so too Torah is the foundation of our lives. The donation for communal sacrifices refers to Avodah, prayer. Prayer is intimately connected with the sacrifices offered in the Temple. And finally, the materials used to build the Mishkan refer to the mitzvoth, commandments. It is the practical, everyday things that we do. This is why there was only details on this third offering. The observance of the mitzvoth are the detailed practices of our daily lives. And it is also why God is not mentioned with this third offering. God is hidden in the very details of the practice of mitzvot. As we go about our days saying a blessing over food, or washing our hands, these could be seen as just rituals that we are doing; it is not necessarily immediately evident that God is the focus of why we do these things to an outsider. 

So we build a house for Hashem in this world through the study of Torah, prayer, and the practice of mitzvoth.

 But I would like offer you a different take on the midrash about the king and his daughter. Usually Israel is referred to in Scripture in the feminine. It is Israel the woman wedded to Hashem. So I propose to change this midrash so that it’s not the king’s daughter, but his son; Yeshua whom He weds to the “princess”. Israel, and the Church, is wedded to Yeshua, the King’s beloved Son. And just as we build a house of Hashem, Yeshua has promised that he is building a house for us in Olam Ha-Ba!

May we build a house for Hashem thru Torah, Avodah, Mitzvot. May we be faithful marriage partners with our husband Yeshua. May we all be at that Great Wedding Banquet in Olam Ha-Ba!

Shabbat Shalom!

Yitro- Three Stages of Prayer

The Zohar is a mystical commentary on the Torah written in the Middle Ages. It states that the story of Exodus indicates that redemption happens in three stages: silence, crying out, and words. The Israelites were so caught up in their suffering that at first, they don’t even cry out to God; they are silent. It is only after Moses slays the Egyptian and flees that they cry out. But this a wordless cry. The text says that they sighed and cried out, a-nah and za’ak. Words only came to them after their deliverance from Egypt as we have in this week’s parsha where they tell Moses that they will do all Hashem commanded them, and Moses took their words back to God.

These three stages of redemption coincide with the three stages of prayer. At first we are silent, not praying at all. Many people don’t pray because of unbelief or unaware of their needs, or so caught up in their sin that they don’t care. But then something happens that disrupts their lives and they cry out in wordless anguish. They don’t know what to say; they are only raw emotion. It is only later that they can put their anguish to words; to pray. They move from za’ak to tefillah, prayer.

Some traditions of skeptical of liturgy, but it does have value. Our siddur gives us the words when we don’t have them. It helps us articulate our wordless groans. Liturgy also teaches us what is important; what we should focus on. And it teaches us who we really are; that we are children of God. Our concerns should reflect and be in concert with His concerns. Tefillah doesn’t mean “prayer”, it literally means “to judge oneself”. Prayer is an act of self-discovery and growing self-awareness. This is why one of the first prayers of the Amidah is a request for God to give us insight and wisdom.
Our Sages constructed the siddur to accomplish this goal. It consists of praise, thanksgiving, and petition, but the overall focus is prayer for redemption. We begin every morning before leaving the bed with Modeh Ani, a prayer of gratitude that Hashem has restored us to wakefulness. We then proceed to praise Him for past salvations (like the Exodus), for sustaining us daily, but it then moves to focus on the future redemption. One of our final prayers is the Alaynu which prays that all of humanity will come to recognize Hashem and His Messiah.

We pray for our individual needs but it is always framed within this overall context. We learn that our concerns are merely a part of an overall arc of the world’s need for redemption. And we discover who we really are; priests interceding on behalf of the world. We are indeed a mamlechet cohanim, and kingdom of priests called to pray for God to bring redemption.

Prayer does not end there, however. It is also connected to sacrifice. The reason that we pray three times a day is to coincide with the activities going on in the Temple. Prayer is rooted in the idea that we do not belong to ourselves but to Hashem. As we discover who we really are and what is important, we also must give all that we are back to God!

We ask God three times a day in the Amidah to restore the fires of the altar; this is not only a request for the Temple to be restored, but also an expression of Israel’s self-sacrifice and devotion to Hashem. Every morning in the siddur we recite the Akedah; the Binding of Isaac. This, too, is an expression of sacrifice, as Abraham and his son were willing to do what they were commanded. Prayer is also called Service of the Heart. This expresses the giving of our whole heart to God. We are fulfilling the Shema in giving our whole heart, soul, and all our might. The Rabbis say that this last, me-o-de-cha, means our monetary means. I have never liked this interpretation. I like better to say it means with all our “very-ness”. We are to give our heart, soul, and every fiber of our being to Hashem.

Prayer is not just for humanity but for all of Creation. Rav Sha’ul, the Apostle Paul, says that all of creation groans awaiting redemption. This is za’ak, a wordless groaning. We, as priests of all Creation give words to this groaning. Israel fulfills our priestly calling in praying for humanity and the whole world.

Jewish prayer is focused on praying for the redemption of the world. The Church is joined to us in this mission. May we, Jew and Christian, take our place in the chorus of praise and petition. May we pray that indeed all people would come to know the God of Israel and His Messiah. May we serve as priests, interceding not only for others, but for all of Creation, that can only groan. May we discover who we really are and then offer all of our “very-ness” to Hashem.

Shabbat Shalom.

The Altar of the Menorah

Tonight is Erev Channukah. Ask anyone knowledgeable and they will tell you that Channukah is about the miracle of the oil when the Temple was rededicated by the Maccabees. During this holiday we light candles, make latkes and sufaganiot (sort of like donuts) because they are made with oil and talk about the miracle. But have you ever noticed that the song we sing, Maoz Tzur, while lighting the channukah menorah says nothing about this? It begins “O mighty stronghold of my salvation, to praise You is a delight. Restore my House of Prayer and there we will bring a thanksgiving offering. When You will have prepared the slaughter for the blaspheming foe,” But then in the last line we sing “ Az Eg-mor B’shir Miz-mor Cha-nu-kat Ha-miz-bay-ach”, “Then I shall complete with a song of hymn the dedication of the Altar.” This song is about the altar, the mizbayach, not the menorah! Additionally, during the week of Channukah the daily readings are all about the dedication of the Mishkan (tabernacle) and the altar by Moshe and the leaders of the tribes. So what is going on?

The book of the Maccabees tells us the story of Channukah; how the Syrian king Antiochus IV sought to eradicate Judaism. It says that on the 15th of the month of Kislev he setup up an idol in the Temple, but he waited until the 25th of Kislev to make his pagan sacrifices and defile the altar. The Maccabbes also waited until the 25th of Kislev to rededicate the altar. It says

…they took uncut stones, according to the law, and built a new altar like the former one. They also repaired the sanctuary and the interior of the temple and consecrated the courts. They made new sacred vessels and brought the lampstand, the altar of incense, and the table into the temple. Then they burned incense on the altar and lighted the lamps on the lampstand, and these illuminated the temple. They also put loaves on the table and hung up the curtains. Thus they finished all the work they had undertaken. They rose early on the morning of the twenty-fifth day of the ninth month, that is, the month of Kislev, in the year one hundred and forty-eight, and offered sacrifice according to the law on the new altar for burnt offerings that they had made.

Why wait until the 25th? One could see that they wanted to rededicate the altar on the anniversary of its defilement in order to reverse it. But then why did Antiochus select that specific date?

There is indeed a reason. The book of Leviticus tells us that they dedicated the Mishkan during an eight-day commemoration. The book of Chronicles tells us that King Solomon did likewise with the First Temple and that is was also in conjunction with the Feast of Sukkot (Tabernacles).  Rabbi Channina, a prominent rabbi in the Talmud said that the Mishkan was completed on the 25th of Kislev. Additionally, we read in the book of Haggai that he announced on the 24th of Kislev that the sacrifices were about to recommence. It is clear that the 25th of Kislev was well known and that Antiochus sought this specific date as a way of increasing the severity of his defilement. It was as if he was saying, “This is my temple now. ”

The Book of Maccabees also tells us that they could not celebrate the feast of Sukkot during the war so they rededicated the Temple for eight days and also celebrated Sukkot just like King Solomon did. In a letter to another Jewish community, it says

“Since we shall be celebrating the purification of the temple on the twenty-fifth day of the month Kislev, we thought it right to inform you, that you too may celebrate the feast of Booths and of the fire that appeared when Nehemiah, the rebuilder of the temple and the altar, offered sacrifices.”

Notice here that the connection to Sukkot is explicitly mentioned. But what is this about the fire and Nehemiah? Remember that the fire was kept lit continuously on the altar. The text tells us that there was a tradition that some of the priests hid fire from the altar in a cistern before the Temple was destroyed by the Babylonians, so that the fire could be restored someday. When Nehemiah led the rebuilding of the Temple, he asked the descendants of the priests where the fire was hidden. They did not know what he was talking about; knowledge had been lost during the exile. So they went looking for it and found the cistern. But the fire was out and the only thing left was a thick oily residue (like naptha). Nehemiah put this oily residue on the sacrifice and when the sun came out the altar burst into flames. Thus the continuity of the fire on the altar was maintained.

(Another significant thing to recall is that the Menorah in the Temple was not lit with candles but with oil, hence the legend of the miracle of the oil.)

One theory as to why they moved the emphasis away from the altar and to the menorah is this exact connection. The Maccabbes wanted people to celebrate Channukah in their homes and sacrifices can only be performed in the Temple, so they moved it to the lighting of lights. According to this theory, then, these lights point to the altar not the menorah! Our Channukah menorahs point to the oil placed on the altar!

This approach is significant for us as Messianic Jews. Tonight is not only Erev Channukah, but also the beginning of the celebration of Yeshua’s birth by our brothers and sisters in the churches. When we light the menorah, we often talk about us being a light to the world and of how Yeshua is the Light of Torah. He himself said in John 10 that he was the light of the world while attending the festivities of Channukah. But he is also the sacrifice upon the altar! Just as Antiochus tried to destroy the Temple, the Adversary tried to destroy Yeshua, but ultimately failed through the resurrection power of the Ruach Hakodesh. His incarnation, celebrated at Christmas, is indelibly linked to his death. Someone recently asked me why the church that we rent from has a cross and a manger on the stage. I told them that I think it is to express this idea. Yeshua’s life of total Channukah, dedication to his Father, leads to his death and resurrection.

As we light our menorahs this coming week we are connecting not only to the Maccabees, but also to Nehemiah, Solomon, and to the original dedication of the Tabernacle by Moses. We also can think about how we are tasked to bring the light of Torah to the world in our daily lives. We can think of Yeshua being that light. But now we can also reflect upon this connection to his death! The lighting of our menorahs links to and commemorates his sacrifice on the “altar” of the cross.

May we ponder these things in the coming week.

May we give thanks to the One who continues to save us in myriads of ways; especially through the Great Salvation He wrought through His son.

May we rededicate ourselves to His Torah and seek to be not only a light to the world, but also, as Rav Shaul said, be living sacrifices on our own altars.

Shabbat Shalom, Chag Channukah Semeach, and Chag Molad Semeach!

The Tzohar

Our Besorah reading this week tells of how the star led the magi to visit the infant messiah. We have often discussed the connections between Yeshua and Isaac. Both were only sons, both we sacrificed, both were the embodiment of Israel; the One-Man-Israel. So it is not surprising that we can find a connection between the star at Yeshua's birth and Isaac's birth. There is a legend that says on the day of Isaac's birth the sun shone with a splendor that had not been seen since the sin of Adam and Eve and will only be seen again in Olam Ha-Ba (The World To Come).

This is a reference to the legend of the Tzohar, which is based on the first chapter of Genesis. It notices in the text that God created light before He created the sun and the stars. So what is this light? The legend says that it was the radiance of Hashem's glory that permeated the universe. It was the Supernal Light, the Tzohar (which just means radiance or brilliance). When the first people sinned, God hid this light and reserved it for the end of time. But He took some of the light and put it in a stone. The angel Raziel gave this stone to Adam as a remembrance of what they had lost. This stone was passed down through the generations to Noah, where it appears in the actual Genesis text. God commands Noah to build a tzohar for the ark. It says "tzohar ta'aseh la-tayvah", build a light for the ark. What does this mean? Usually it gets translated as "roof" or "window", which lets light into the ark. But it doesn't say window, it says light. So the legend says that Noah hung the Tzohar Stone from the roof and it provided light.

After the flood the stone was handed down through the line of Shem until it was given to Jacob, with which he had his vision of the heavenly ladder. Jacob gave it to Joseph. The light of the stone protected him from the snakes and scorpions in the pit where his brothers threw him and it was with this stone that he was able to interpret dreams while in prison. The legend continues that it was buried with Joseph, but Moses took his coffin with them in the Exodus and he removed the stone from the coffin and hung it up in the Mishkan (tabernacle). Thus the Ner Tamid (eternal light) that is in every synagogue not only represents the menorah but also is a reference to this legend.

Other legends say that Hashem's supernal light was hidden in the Torah itself and when we study it we let loose some of its rays. This is very similar to the kabbalistic notion of the kelipot where we release divine sparks of light when we do good deeds.

There are several texts in the Besorah that allow us to say midrashically that Yeshua is the Tzohar! In Hebrews 1:3 it says "The Son is the radiance of [God's] glory and the representation of His essence." In the first chapter of John it says "In him was life, and the life was the light of humanity, and the light shines on in the darkness, but the darkness has not mastered it." Yeshua later said, "I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life."

Yeshua is the Tzohar! He is the radiance of the Father, he is the Living Torah, which is infused with the Father's light, he is the Ner Tamid. We see this at the very end of Revelation where it says, "[Jerusalem] does not need the sun or the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and the Lamp is its lamp."

But there is more!

Yeshua said that we are the light of the world. In Mattityahu 5:14 he says, "You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven."

Just as Yeshua is the living embodiment of the Torah, we are the living embodiment of the Risen Messiah here on earth. We are the Tzohar. Each of us carries a bit of his light within us. And it is through our actions in study, prayer, and good deeds that we expose that light to this dark world.

May our light indeed shine. May we move with that purpose in mind in all that we do.

May we reflect the light of Yeshua, just as he reflects the light of Hashem.

May we be the Tzohar that shows the way to Yeshua's home.

And may we look forward to that Day when Hashem's Supernal Light again infuses all of Creation!

The Harsh Decree- Yom Kippur

There is a piyut (liturgical poem) recited on both Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur that we do not recite as it is in the Mussaf, which we do not do. Mussaf is an additional service after Shacharit (morning prayers) on Shabbat and holy days. The reason that we pray three times a day is because these are the times that the sacrifices were offered in the Temple. Mussaf coincides with the additional sacrifices made on Shabbat and on holy days.

This piyut is called Un-ta-neh To-kef, which means “Let us voice the power (of this day’s sanctity)”. It consists of several dramatic vignettes. The first depicts a heavenly court with God sitting on His seat of judgment. The Book of Deeds is opened, a shofar (ram’s horn) sounds out, and angels tremble. The second describes what is at stake; who will live, who will die, prosper, suffer, fall, and rise. The third brings us to a happy conclusion. It says “But repentance, prayer, and charity cancel the harsh decree”.

This poem was long believed to be written by Rabbi Amnon of Mainz in the 11th century. He died a martyr rather than giving in to forced conversion to Christianity. But this poem was discovered in the Cairo Geniza and was almost certainly composed in Israel during the  6th or 7th centuries, possibly Yannai, a great composer of liturgical poems.

 Many are shocked and troubled by the theology of this piyut; that we might be spared with repentance, prayer, and acts of charity. We all know or have read about very pious people who have died horrible deaths, suffered great illness, lost loved ones. The Ramban, who lived in the 12th century, took issue with it. So have many other prominent rabbis over the centuries. Repentance, Prayer, and Charity are not magical talismans that prevent catastrophes. This is the aversion that the rabbis had to Tashlich. We cannot throw sins away in the form of bread.

Modern Machzorim attempt to solve this by “translating” the issue away. Some say “Cancel the harshness of the decree” or “Have the power to transform the harshness of the decree” rather than just plain cancel.

The problem is that “Ma-a-vi-rin” does indeed mean cancel. It comes from the root word AVAR, that means to pass. This word is used consistently throughout the Talmud with the meaning of “remove”. It rules that hard labor should be removed from a scholar, Jewelry should be removed from a woman accused of adultery, and we are permitted to remove crumbs from the table on Shabbat. It never means “mitigate” or “soften”.

This same word is used in the prayer Avinu Malkaynu. We say “Our Father, Our King, wipe away and remove our transgressions and sins from Your sight.” This is a form of the same root word, AVAR, ve-ha-a-vayr. It means remove not reduce.

So what should we do with this poem? I think that we should go with the modern translations that understand that it was written in an earlier time where things were viewed differently. We cannot avert evil in our lives, but we can mitigate the harshness of it. We will all suffer illness, disasters, war, loss of loved ones and jobs. And many of us have, ergo the healing service that we held last week. But we can reduce the harshness of it thru a life of prayer, repentance, and charity.

This is exactly what Yeshua taught! In his sermon on the mountain he told us to seek forgiveness and to forgive others; this is repentance. He told us not to worry about what we will eat, drink, or wear. We should instead ask for them with confidence. This is prayer. He told us to not store up wealth where moth, rust, thieves can destroy but to store our treasures in heaven. This is charity.
He concluded, “But seek first his Kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” A life lived like this sets our attention of Hashem, not our troubles. When troubles come, we are less afflicted because we have built up an “immunity”.

Novelist Nassim Nicholas Taleb once wrote that the world consists of three types of things; fragile, robust, and anti-fragile. Things that are fragile, break with shock or force. Robust things withstand damage. But anti-Fragile emerge even stronger when attacked. Muscles are anti-fragile. If you stress them they breakdown but then grow and become stronger.

Through repentance, prayer, and charity we can become anti-fragile. We can become stronger from life’s challenges. Through repentance we can grow from our mistakes, and learn grace for others. Through prayer we learn self-reflection, self-awareness, and reliance upon Hashem. Through charity we learn to let go.

We are all going to experience troubles, but we can be anti-fragile. We have all known people who have let setbacks destroy them. They have let anger at an injustice done to them fester for decades. They let these troubles damage their relationships with those around them. All of us here today are facing many different challenges too. It is up to us how well we weather them. Our lives are too precious to squander. We will miss out on the joys that Hashem has for us. We will miss out on being a source of joy and blessing to others.

At our healing service last week, Zora mentioned a woman at her mother’s nursing home that radiated joy despite her physical immobility. This is a woman who has learned to be anti-fragile. Not surprisingly she discovered that the woman led a bible study at the home. Most likely she learned to be anti-fragile through a long life of repentance, prayer, and charity.

The word Ivrim (Hebrew) comes from that same root word, AVAR, which means “To pass over”. May we truly be Ivrim, able to let the harshness of life “pass over” us.

May we not be devastated by loss, illness, and setbacks.

May we live a life of Repentance, Prayer, and Charity.

May we seek first His Kingdom and His righteousness.

For then we will truly be anti-fragile and able to avert the harshness of the evil decree!

Gut Yontif and G’mar Chatima Tov- May you be inscribed in the Book of Life.

The Mikveh of the High Holy Days

Every year as we approach the High Holy Days I always wonder what something new I can say about them. In the past I have already talked about the Akedah, Jonah, the meaning of the New Year and such. This is especially important this year as, for the first time, I am essentially kicking off this whole special season by delivering the Erev Rosh Hashanah D’var Torah tonight. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do.

Then I started thinking about our recent Tevilah service and its connection to the High Holy Days. Our liturgy includes the Penitential Service from Yom Kippur because Tevilah is an act of Teshuvah. The Penitential Service also expresses our repentance in corporate terms, as the four fine young men being immersed were not just doing it on their own, but were joining with us at CZA, Israel, and the Church in its ongoing life of repentance. The vows that they took were also expressed in communal terms.

The liturgy of the High Holy Days also is expressed in this way. It is not just a time of personal teshuvah, but corporate teshuvah. We, as Jews, are always individuals embedded in a larger covenant community that has responsibility to God, for one another, and for the whole world.

At our Tevilah service I talked about Yeshua’s own immersion. His act had both a priestly and a prophetic function.

It was priestly in that in his immersion he was radically identifying with his people in their sinfulness. He was immersed on their behalf, leading the vanguard of those turning to Hashem. His act of solidarity called them to their need to repent, be cleansed, and be freed from exile.

It was a prophetic act in that his immersion pointed forward to his ultimate “immersion” of death on a cross. Referring to this in Luke he says, "I have an immersion with which to be immersed, and what stress I am under until it is completed!" It also points forward to that ultimate “immersion” of the Great Redemption at the end of time.

These two acts, both priestly and prophetic, are exactly what we do during these High Holy Days. This season is not just about us and our Teshuvah, but we act as priests. We confess and seek forgiveness on behalf of those within our community that are not yet willing to do so. This is a season of contrition, introspection, and prayer for ourselves, Israel, the church, and the world. Our observance also takes on a prophetic tone as we are always looking forward to That Great Day of Atonement.

This season is also like tevilah in that just as we enter the waters unclean and emerge reborn, so too we enter this season carrying our stains from the year and emerge from Yom Kippur cleansed and reborn. 

I was recently asked what the liturgy meant to me. My response was that my experience of the liturgy very often feels like I am easing into a soothing hot tub. Like a hot tub, I just can just feel the cares of the day and week melt away as I enter into prayer. Sometimes I don’t want to do it. I am worked up about something and resist the idea. But then I do and it just soothes my soul!

Reflecting on this for the High Holy Days, I decided that perhaps a better metaphor than a hot tub is a mikveh. The liturgy is soothing but also it is cleansing. It reminds us of what is important and reconnects us to Hashem. The cleansing waters of the liturgy removes the spiritual dirt in my life. If this is true of weekday and Shabbat prayer, how much more so these special Ten Days of Awe!
In these next ten days, let us ease ourselves into the Mikveh of the High Holy Days. Where we not only focus on our own repentance but that of others as well. Let us keep in mind that this is a priestly act on behalf of a broken and sin-filled Israel, church, and world. We can use these days to radically express our solidarity with our fellows, even if they are unwilling, and call upon Hashem on their behalf.

Let us also keep in mind that this is a prophetic act, where we point the world forward to that day when God will be One and His Name One; and every knew bow to Yeshua His Mashiach. When all Israel and the world will bow and recognize the sovereignty of God and repent.

May the soothing waters of the liturgy wash over us as we ease into these Yamim Noraim, Days of Awe.

May we let the shofar blasts wash over us tomorrow, in a mikveh of sound.

May we steep ourselves in the warm waters of Hashem’s forgiveness.

May the Mikveh of the High Holy Days cleanse us from all spiritual dirt.

Gut Yontif / Shanah Tova / A gut yahr- May you have a good year

Ketivah VaChatimah Tovah- A good inscription and sealing in the Book of Life