My Near Conversion to Orthodox Judaism, pt V

Chol Moed Pesakh, 2001

Today is an equalizer. Peter arrived for weekday prayers with only a tallit. He and most of the men in the synagogue do not don tefillin as it is an intermediate day of Pesakh. As a non-Jew, Peter is not permitted to wear tefillin during weekday minyan. Tefillin increase the opportunity of Peter being mistaken for a Jew in quorum reckoning. Not wearing them makes him feel naked, but today, just like on a Yom Tov or Shabbat, Peter stands with the others—bare of tefillin. Today is an equalizer.

“Even maw’asu haboniym…” (The stone the builders rejected), recites Peter from the Hallel. He finishes this verse and then glances down to the following note in his ArtScroll Siddur:

___

The stone the builders despised has become the cornerstone. This verse refers to David, who was rejected by his own father and brothers. When the prophet Samuel announced that one of Jesse’s sons was to be anointed king, no one even thought of summoning David, who was out with the sheep. Israel too is called [stone], for Israel is the cornerstone of God’s design for the world…But the builders, i.e., the rulers of the nations, despised the Jews…

___

Peter sees an immediate and profound relationship between Israel and her Messiah. Both are rejected and despised. Israel is abhorred and rejected by the nations while her Messiah is the one abhorred and rejected by the nation [Israel]. His mind hearkens to Isaiah 49:7

כֹּה אָמַר-יְהוָה גֹּאֵל יִשְׂרָאֵל קְדוֹשׁוֹ, לִבְזֹה-נֶפֶשׁ לִמְתָעֵב גּוֹי

For says YHWH, Redeemer of Israel, his Holy One to [him] despised of the soul, to [him] abhorred by the nation…

Though this is a day of equalization—a day in which the visible signs of Peter’s status as a non-Jew are removed—he feels the weight of his difference. Though standing amongst the rejected nation who is called, “My servant, Israel,” he feels a sense of alienation. The sacrifices and commitments that he has displayed have not been met with the acceptance and open arms that he expected. Rather, Peter has found general coolness with respect to his conversion. This reality is startling, and acceptance of it creates a sense of estrangement or subtle dubiosity. He finds himself yearning for identification with the rejected Messiah.

The walk home is made pleasant with the earth’s redolent offerings released from their winter captivity. The waters are still contained behind the dam, but today’s revelation has strengthened the current.

"God is Not a Man..." Part II

Our passage states that God cannot “repent” (Hebrew nacham). This is taken to mean that God is impassible. The impassibility of God is the dogmatic assertion that God is incapable of being affected by the created order over whish He transcends. However, the witness of Moses and the Prophets suggests that God can be and is affected dynamically by the created order. In the following passages, God will be shown to “repent” or “feel remorse” with regard to an action taken. Through this brief exercise, it will become clear that the rejected “repentance of God” in Numbers 23:19 is not an unmitigated or comprehensive statement about the nature of God.

The Hebrew term for “repent” in the following passages is nacham which is the word used in Number 23:19. Moses writes, “YHWH repented that He had made man on the earth…” (Genesis 6:6). Similarly, in the face of the golden calf incident, Moses asks God, “Turn from Your burning anger and repent of the evil to Your people” (Exodus 32:12).

The prophet Joel (2:13) writes:

[God] is gracious and compassionate,
Slow to anger, abounding in
kindness,
And repenting of evil.

Consistent with the examples in Moses, Joel goes further. He demonstrates that the “repentance of God” (nachmat Elohim) is part of the very nature of God. However, this exercise reveals an aspect of God’s nature inconsistent with a specific reading of Numbers 23:19. God is capable of “repenting” or “changing His mind.” He is affected by creation and not the impassible, static deity of the stoics.

Our journey through this passage hence commences with a demonstration that Numbers 23:19 is not a comprehensive statement about the nature of God. More will follow.

"God is Not a Man..." Part I

“God is not a man…” (Numbers 23:19)

Does Numbers 23:19 militate against the doctrine of the incarnation? Believers in the doctrine of the incarnation assert that God became a man—the man Christ Jesus (Yeshua the Anointed). How does the incarnation relate to this passage?

Our entire passage in context reads:

וַיִּשָּׂא מְשָׁלוֹ, וַיֹּאמַר: קוּם בָּלָק וּשְׁמָע, הַאֲזִינָה עָדַי בְּנוֹ צִפֹּר.
לֹא אִישׁ אֵל וִיכַזֵּב, וּבֶן-אָדָם וְיִתְנֶחָם; הַהוּא אָמַר וְלֹא יַעֲשֶׂה, וְדִבֶּר וְלֹא יְקִימֶנָּה.
הִנֵּה בָרֵךְ, לָקָחְתִּי; וּבֵרֵךְ, וְלֹא אֲשִׁיבֶנָּה.

And he took up his parable, and said: Arise, Balak, and hear; give ear unto me, thou son of Zippor: God is not a man, that He should lie; neither the son of man, that He should repent: when He hath said, will He not do it? or when He hath spoken, will He not make it good? Behold, I am bidden to bless; and when He hath blessed, I cannot call it back.

It is critical to note that this passage answers the exigency of Balaam’s commission to curse Israel. Balaam here comments on the nature of God relative to the inextricable nature of His relationship to His people Israel. It will be found that this passage is not didactically attempting to relate the inner nature of God. Rather, as already stated, this passage confirms the inability of God to abrogate His covenant relationship with Israel.

Finding Our Way...

Finding Our Way: The Mired Journey from Destruction’s City to Destruction’s Town
(a response to Brian Tebbitt’s parable in “Finding Our Way: A Difficult Path”)


Destruction’s City:

Heathen statutes undiscerned
Way of the heathen amply learned
Veneer of ardor so impeccant
Empty shell to God abhorrent
Destruction’s City grasps the roll
Communion with departed souls
Gravesite veneration
Unholy spirit dissemination.

To the Holy City:

Statutes heathen, they discern
Perfect precepts embraced to learn
Pursuit of God, humble suppliant
Trust in God, on Him reliant.
Destruction’s City no longer pulls
City of God ahead the goal
Holy Writ infatuation
Spirit, joy, celebration.

Path Differed -- Destruction’s Town:

Heathen statutes undiscerned
Way of the heathen amply learned
Thrice-washed hands, yet on descent
Postern entry, signage reticent
Wayward town, rote to lull
Spirit’s fire dampened, dull
Gravesite veneration
Unholy spirit dissemination.

by Peter C. Sander
edit by Renah

My Near Conversion to Orthodox Judaism, Interlude

by Peter Sander

Find entrance to the narrow gate
Through which find the waters living
Forgo Him, Oh! A dreaded fate
Embrace Him now, the Oft Forgiving.

Others have a wall erected
Through ordinances that set a limit
Zealously a well protected
To keep away the thirsty admit.

This thirsty soul bore the weight
Sought from this well the guarded giving
And rather found a fleeting bait
All this to his own misgiving.

For this well, the Lord rejected
Idols in his heart did sit
The liberating Word deflected
Self-charmed by trust in wit.

Forsaken was the freeing yoke
For promise of a purer well
Forbidden fire did he stoke
A piety of rote to lull.

Burden heavy, nigh to croak
Beneath the weight, which on him fell
God the scaffold was wont to poke
To make the burden twice a hell.

‘Neath the weight, finally broken
Chastised son, His praises tell
Of the gate that was forsaken
Yea, the Lord, this trial to quell.

Burden lifted, Spirit freeing
On my knees, His presence new
Commandments with new eyes seeing
Life infused, so free to do.

Without a Great One

On the seat of Moses sitting
The arbiter of legal bidding
A code without a living judge
Claimed alive, yet mire or sludge.

This herald of the rabbinic scepter
Does not have an interceptor
To unravel an encoded rubric
Of rote and lore distant, delphic.

Written Law without tradition
Claimed to be without munition
With the sages, now revealed
To whose wisdom ere to yield.

Left alone, the Holy Writ
A legal code alone will sit
Rabbinic law to make it living
All of life swift encircling.

On the seat of Moses sitting
The arbiter of legal bidding
A code without a living judge
Claimed alive, yet mire or sludge.

This sagacious postulation
Must purview the destination
With the absence of a mentor
Who can pasken, true to tenor.

For the code to be alive
And a community to thrive
A living teacher, there must be
To apply the rule faithfully.

This rule by pliant custom set
Will not without it yet
Allow itself to exist
Without a teacher ere persist.

On the seat of Moses sitting
The arbiter of legal bidding
A code without a living judge
Claimed alive, yet mire or sludge.

No teacher there to be
It will happen for all to see
Yes, in the absence of a great one
Scepter passes to the chief gun.

From which flows the claim to life
Only shall end in strife
For what by Spirit is revealed
By this tradition, soon concealed.

By Peter C. Sander

* Great One = Rabbi

My Near Conversion to Orthodox Judaism, pt IV

Near Conversion, part IV

Peter’s kippah takes leave of his head as it begins an airborne escape down Pratt. A chase ensues. It is Shabbat morning, and Peter with tallit trailing behind like a super hero’s cape, looks as comical as he is eager to capture his displaced kippah.

Triumphantly Peter captures his kippah. He repositions the kippah and his face glows as he contemplates his manager’s comment yesterday. "Imagine!" Peter's manager declares, "What a day it is when an observant Jew can openly wear a kippah and dispatch unruly, uneducated movers!” Though secular and unobservant, Peter’s manager is a Jew. Peter latches onto the label “observant Jew.” He thinks about these words as they offer him a sense of belonging and identity.

After service, Peter remains at the shul for Kiddush and warm cholent. One of the community members offers a d’var Torah related to הַחֲסִידָה (ha-chasidah, “stork” in Lev 11:19) and its uncleanness.

“הַחֲסִידָה (chasidah) is the feminine form of chasid (pious/merciful one),” Rich* explains. “Why is the stork called הַחֲסִידָה (chasidah)?” he pauses. “Because it shows kindness to its offspring and to the offspring of other stork parents. Storks live in colonies, and the parent storks will feed the offspring of other parents. Also, the stork walks uprightly or piously and so it is הַחֲסִידָה (chasidah),” Rich stops again.

Rich asks, “Why if הַחֲסִידָה (chasidah) is such a noble beast, is it unclean?” The question is rhetorical, and he resumes, “The הַחֲסִידָה (chasidah) is kind to its own—to its own species. However, הַחֲסִידָה (chasidah) does not care for others outside of its own kind, its own species. This is why she is unclean.”

Rich’s homily is then applied to family and congregational cliques among Jews. He asks for those present to consider other Jews who might be in need of compassion in order to reach out to them.

Peter’s mind grasps the imagery of הַחֲסִידָה (chasidah). Peter finds the intra-Judaic horizon of Rich’s homily too narrow and far from the mark idealized in the prophets. Peter mentally connects passages:

מַמְלֶכֶת כֹּהֲנִים, וְגוֹי קָדוֹשׁ “Kingdom of priests, and a holy nation…”

לְאוֹר גּוֹיִם “…a light to the nations…”

“You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hid.”

The warm April wind presents a challenge to Peter’s kippah and this last passage compels Peter to thought. It is a statement from Yeshua recorded in the Gospel of Matthew.

* Name changed to protect privacy.

My Near Conversion to Orthodox Judaism, pt III

Near Conversion, part 3

Emergent Orthodox observance—this is what joins these two families. Charles and Lillian Stein* were initially an intermarried couple. Lillian’s recent conversion was a race car propelled by the fact that her husband was a Jew by birth. Intermarriage was a blight to be remedied by Lillian’s conversion.

Charles and Peter, returning from Friday evening Ma’ariv, climb the stairs to Charles’ home. The rich aroma of Shabbos dinner greets them as they leave outside the cold of a late-March snow. They join Lillian, Tonya, and Schmuel at the Shabbos table. Kiddush, divrei Torah, sharing, zemiros, and bircas ha-mazon take the four late into the evening.

Peter, Tonya, and Schmuel are spending the night. With the usage of the community eruv prohibited due to legalities germane to its validity, spending Shabbat with another observant family allows Tonya Shabbat socialization. Many of the observant in the community use the eruv, but Peter and Tonya’s supervisory beit din (“house of judgement/halakhah”) prohibits it. Peter and Tonya’s inability to use the eruv prevents the two of them from leaving the home simultaneously as they cannot carry their three-month old son out of the house. In these circumstances, Shabbat becomes solitary confinement for Tonya. Today is a welcomed exception.

Discussion centers around the theme of Jewish perspectives on conversion.

“You have to learn Hebrew before you can finish your conversion?” Charles rephrases Tonya’s statement as a question.

“Yes, Rabbi F. told Rabbi A. that Hebrew learning is a must for conversion,” affirms Tonya.

“He did the same for Lillian,” recalls Charles, “but I went to Rabbi A. I told him that this was nonsense, and he listened to me. You should do the same.”

“But, it’s not the same” asserts Peter. “You know? Neither of us is a Jew. Aside from whatever personal investment they may have in us, it would be welcomed if we quit.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous,” Lillian chimes in.

The Steins are a welcomed change of perspective to Peter and Tonya. Though they live only a stone’s throw from the shul, the Steins exhibit the most contemplatively critical yet humble observance that Peter and Tonya have encountered.

“If I might bring this topic up, I mean it’s not exactly [Orthodox]…” Peter pauses as the Steins motion for him to continue. “When we were Christians, we always felt as though we had to convert everyone.”

“Yeah, I remember thinking that if I did not tell my co-workers about [Yeshua] that their blood was on my shoulders!” interjects Tonya.

“Exactly! It’s so different in Judaism. A person, a gentile can be righteous and pleasing to HaShem without becoming a Jew” asserts Peter, “I really like this universal aspect about Judaism, but I am not convinced that Noachide universalism is authentic to ancient Judaism.”

Charles agrees, “I’ve read studies associating the rise of the [Seven Noachide Commandments] among the rabbis as a means to address the need to placate their host nations and religions.”

“Precisely!” Peter states with recognizable excitement, as he adds, “I couldn’t image contenting myself with Noachide religion. I do not know how anyone could choose such a limited path when there is so much more.”

The conversation continues on this topic. The four retire late. The following morning Charles and Peter will arrive early for Shabbat minyan as the chazzan recites from the morning blessings:

Baruch ata Adonai elohaynu melekh ha-olam shelo osani goy
(“Blessed are you Lord our God, King of the universe, for not making me a gentile”).

Along with those present, Peter will state “amein” as his heart burns with longing for covenant identity.

* Actual names removed for privacy.

"Gods and Godlings"

"Gods and Godlings"

Franz Rosenzweig a German Jewish philosopher, in a personal letter discussing comparisons between Christianity and Judaism states,
___

The farther into the distance God is banished, the more permissible it seems to man to populate with demi-gods and godlings that space between himself and God…*
___

I have observed this in myself and others when the attempt is made to marry rabbinic theism with the Messiahship of Yeshua. In such a context, Yeshua often becomes "a god" or "a divine being" as God is made into an impassible unity incapable of fellowship in the flesh. While condemning Christians for idolizing Yeshua as God, such are guilty of service to a "godling."

Our God is a consuming fire. It is time to put out the strange fires of lesser divinities. He demands exclusivity. Are you sharing His glory with another? Is your God so distant, so unknowable that you are forced to "populate" the expanse with "gods and godlings" who are not God?

Are you sharing His glory with another?

*Rothschild, Fritz A. ed. Jewish Perspectives on Christianity. New York: Continuum Publishing, 1996.

My Near Conversion to Orthodox Judaism, part II

Near Conversion, Part 2

Surprise? No, rather...astonishment.

Blood rushes to Peter’s face. Drops of sweat speckle across his forehead. It is obvious that he is ashamed. Rabbi A.’s words pierce Peter’s innermost as Peter thinks back to a lighter occasion when he ran into his rabbi during a weekday, and Rabbi A., with obvious levity, warned Peter, “If you do not start coming to shul, then I will send the men with the really really long peyos and the high stockings to bend your pinkies back until you come.” Rabbi A. had noticed Peter’s absence for about two weeks. “Did he know why all along?” Peter ponders.

Tonya arranged today's meeting with Rabbi A., and Peter agreed to come. Concerned with his recent acquisition of Michael Brown’s volume one of Answering Jewish Objections…, Tonya was having difficulty adjusting to an apparent paradigm shift in Peter’s thinking. “Peter’s buying of this book says a lot,” Tonya had reasoned. Prior to their move into the Orthodox community, the rabbis required that Peter dispose of all of his Christian and non-Orthodox Jewish books. According to the halakhah they are “avodah zarah” (literally “strange service” or idolatry). With zeal Peter burned every literary connection that he had with his Christian past. Sitting in front of the fireplace for the space of two days, Peter enjoyed watching as each book was consumed by the flames. Now, though, he has acquired a forbidden book.

Rabbi A. waves the book. He makes mockery of various aspects of the book’s cover and back page. “Why is this Jewish man facing the wall?” Rabbi A. asks, “What message does this tell the reader?” The book itself would have been embarrassing enough if it had not been for the bomb that Rabbi A. had just dropped. Peter had been discussing Yeshua in an online Messianic chat room. No one knew of this—not even Tonya. Peter does not bring this up, but finds himself startled when Rabbi A. asks him about it.

“Did he know all along? It’s only been a few—maybe just a couple—times. How did he know this?” Peter thinks to himself. He cannot deny it, he faces this reality—he can only hope that Rabbi A. does not know the full breadth of his discussions.

Tonya is equally surprised by this revelation. She is struggling with Peter’s rehashing of questions that they have already dealt with. The steps that they have taken to come this far and the entrenchment in the Orthodox community that they have quarried for themselves are both too much for Peter to suddenly change his mind. Now she learns from Rabbi A. that Peter has been discussing the taboo with Christians? Tonya is pregnant, living removed from family, caring for an infant, and climbing the uphill battle of socially connecting with the community. “How can he just up and undo all of our sacrifices that we have made?” Tonya worries to herself.

Rabbi A. graciously alters the tone of the conversation. He tells Peter that it is obvious that he is struggling with a psychological connection to the religion of his upbringing. Rabbi A. gives Peter the name and telephone number for an Orthodox psychiatrist whom he recommends to help Peter get through this “separation anxiety.” Surprisingly gracious and tolerant, Rabbi A. gives Peter the benefit of the doubt though not without a stern caution to not participate in any more online discussions.

The warm air carries an untimely scent of spring—a tease, no doubt, as it is only February. Peter and Tonya walk home, and both are startled by Rabbi A.’s awareness of Peter’s online activity. When Peter arrives home he writes Rabbi A. a letter. The letter reads:

___

Dear Rabbi A.,

I am sorry to have created such concern about my continued involvement with Christianity. I submit myself wholly to the authority of those who have gone before me. Sages more learned than me have rejected [Yeshua] on legitimate grounds, and I do not think that I am in any place to question their knowledge and authority. I desire to live a life pleasing to HaShem—a life in conformity to Torah.

Thank you for your patience with me as I go through this process. I only wish that I had not done this as I am ashamed of myself for jeopardizing my trust with you. Please forgive me for any hurt or disappointment that I may have brought to you.

Shalom,
Peter
___

The following day Peter will hand deliver this letter to Rabbi A. His rabbi will read it, offer a few words, and Peter will resume his participation in synagogue attendance. Peter brought Michael Brown’s book home with the intent to part with it. He places it in a drawer to burn later.

My Near Conversion to Orthodox Judaism, part I

Near Conversion, Part 1

“I wonder if Rabbi A. would be surprised,” questions the young father as he drops down the steps exiting his shul. “I mean, I have taken on so many stringencies and I even look Jewish with the markers of Jewish ancestry—olive skin, black-brown hair and eyes.” Peter starts his four block trek home to see his wife. She was asleep when he left this morning. It is cold, and the snow is deep—typical for a Chicago winter in January. The tunes from Shabbat-morning minyan still echo through his head as they find release in a half-hummed, half-sung anthem to the morning’s experience. He is not alone as several men join him for most of this trip. Few, if any, know who Peter really is: a gentile in the process of conversion to Orthodox Judaism. Peter prefers this, but the question of his possible Jewish ancestry vies for consideration.

Adopted at three weeks old, Peter never met his biological mother. Just before he began to pursue Jewish conversion, his parents revealed to him the details of his adoption. Peter always knew that he was adopted, but he did not know that his biological mother was a rape victim. She was a schizophrenic patient at a state mental facility where she was raped apparently by one of her care givers. Paternal identity was never confirmed. Adopted into and raised in an Evangelical Christian and middle-class family, Peter experienced an upbringing that was both ideal and privileged.

“I know that if I can confirm Jewish ancestry that Rabbi A. will be overjoyed. Besides, Jewish ancestry will make all of this conversion stuff a thing of the past. I will finally be an operating member of the community, and I won’t have to keep trying to prove myself,” Peter reasons as he attempts to stabilize himself on the ice-pasted sidewalk.

Peter arrives home. He knows not to reach into his pocket as he does not carry a key out of the home on Shabbat. “Every other Jew brings a key to shul, but I don’t—an example of my hyper-observance,” Peter thinks self-righteously to himself. Peter knocks and waits for a few minutes as his wife approaches the door—barefoot and baby in arms. Tonya, Peter’s wife, is anything but a bridled beast. She deplores domesticity and never envisioned herself home with children. Peter chuckles visibly to make his point known to his barefoot and pregnant wife. Following the rabbis instruction, Peter and Tonya avoided birth control. Now with a three-month-old son, Tonya is pregnant and due in September, 2001.

Peter sits at the dinning room table. The challah and Shabbat dishes are draped out across the table. Peter makes kiddushah rabbah over the wine and the bread. He is glad to be home. Working regular ten-hour days and commuting over two hours a day leaves Peter tired on Shabbat. Instead of sleeping in as he used to before having a child, Peter was up and out the door to the synagogue at 7:30AM. Now it is a few minutes before noon. Sunset will be in a few hours, and he will leave again for shul to do Minchah and Ma’ariv between which there will be a guest teacher.

Tonya does not like the absence that Shabbat brings to her family. Peter is gone for most of the day on Shabbat. He gets home just before noon on Shabbat and then is gone another three or four hours before the day is over. But, she is committed to this lifestyle. As she and Peter progressed in their learning, it became obvious to her that the Jews were the torch bearers of truth.

Orthodox conversion was the culmination of several years of learning that so much of what she had grown up believing was wrong. This learning began with Shabbat and then quickly led to the practical validity of written Torah. Later Peter began to poke holes in the Trinity and the deity of Yeshua. This was not so hard for her as she spent several years meeting with folks from the Kingdom Hall. When Peter finally rejected the notion that Jesus was God, Tonya found herself quickly able to concede the same. Later Peter introduced her to materials supporting the authority of the rabbis and the oral Torah. This later led to material from the anti-missionary Tovia Singer. This sealed it. As Peter and Tonya drove to spend a weekend alone in Missouri, they listened to Singer's tape series Let's Get Biblical. “Who are we to tell the Jews what their Bible teaches,” Tonya recalls reasoning, “After all they are the ones that have preserved it and read it in Hebrew.”

Peter recites kiddushah rabbah. The two of them discuss the morning’s events. Peter is enthralled with the service at the synagogue. As he shares the details of what transpired, Tonya’s listening mind captures less and less of what he is sharing. She is thinking about how much she misses being home together on Shabbat. Tonya is jolted back into the conversation when Peter starts to develop a comparison between the synagogue and their church experience. The two of them often find themselves going on and on about the negativities of their experience in Christianity. Judaism is superior, they reason, it embraces all of the best in Christianity while also providing a living legal tradition. While Schmuel, their then only son, sleeps, the two of them discuss these comparisons for nearly an hour.

Community Markers IIIb (Shabbat)

Shabbat - Inter-Sectarian Marker

(temp. removed)

Community Markers IIIa (Shabbat)

Shabbat - Marker to the World

אַךְ אֶת-שַׁבְּתֹתַי, תִּשְׁמֹרוּ: כִּי אוֹת הִוא בֵּינִי וּבֵינֵיכֶם, לְדֹרֹתֵיכֶם--לָדַעַת, כִּי אֲנִי יְהוָה מְקַדִּשְׁכֶם


“However, My Sabbaths you shall observe/guard, for a sign it is between Me and you throughout your generations, to the knowledge that I YHWH sanctifies you” (Ex 31:13).

Hirsch points out that the words for sign (אוֹת), ot, and the pronoun it (הִוא), hi, are both singular. However, the Hebrew word for Shabbat in this verse is plural (שַׁבְּתֹתַי, shabtotay, “My Sabbaths”). Hirsch reasons that the singular הִוא cannot refer to the plural שַׁבְּתֹתַי. To answer this textual intricacy Hirsch concludes that the sign is not Shabbat itself but rather is the sh’mirat (observance/guarding) of the Shabbat. Hence, sh’mirat ha Shabbat (observance of the Sabbath) acts as a sign.

How does Shabbat identify us to the world? Our text states that Shabbat is a conduit through which we know that it is YHWH who sanctifies us. In our dealings with capitalistic society and employers obsessed with the bottom line, Shabbat is a glaring "sign." It is a reminder of our allegiance. It reminds society and employers that we do not belong to them, we are not their slaves. In an agricultural setting, Shabbat is a reminder that we are not slaves to fate and circumstances as we surrender our seventh-day to God during seedtime and harvest (Ex 34:21).

This time of the year in the Northern Hemisphere, Shabbat beings in Chicago at approximately 4:00PM. When I was working on Fridays, I would leave the office early to be home before Shabbat started. The president of my company treated everyone like they were his property. I shared an office with him, and come Friday evening I would leave, with him keenly aware of my allegiance. Over my desk I had a magnet indicating candle-lighting times for every Shabbat of the year. My early Friday departures and this candle-lighting magnet bothered him to no end. I would often see and feel the spite in his eyes as I made my Friday-evening exits. My departures though felt like the exodus from Egypt--a departure from the pressures of slavery to the freedom of the presence of God.

Tradition

Tradition… or How do I Interpret Written Torah

I believe that we need to follow the plain sense of the written Torah. The rabbis agree with me. Torah as the letter must be interpreted and applied. The rabbis agree with me. However, the rabbis have bound themselves to the authority of the oral law which they assert is necessary to arrive at a correct understanding of the “plain sense” of the written Torah. I disagree with the rabbis.

It would be absolutely foolish of me to denigrate rabbinic tradition (masorah) and Scripture interpretation (midrash) and to claim the “plain sense” of the Holy Writ, unless I openly acknowledge the interpretive biases and presuppositions that inform my exegetical adventure through written Torah. In other words it is impossible to interpret Scripture in a vacuum. We naturally default to our cultural perspective and values while reading Scripture. To claim *the* “plain sense” without allowing myself to acknowledge my philosophical underpinnings and hermeneutical means would be naïve.

Midrash (used hereafter for traditional rabbinic “exegesis”) is conducted very differently than the historical-grammatical hermeneutic of Protestantism. Midrash does not ask critical questions and is willing to accept sub-literal and unlikely readings of written Torah. Characteristically Protestant historical-grammatical readings ask questions of original audience, author intent, exigency (reason for writing), genre, cultural and historical milieus, language, and textual transmission (with alternative readings in variant manuscripts). Though I see great, great benefit in midrash, it pales in comparison to an historical-grammatical reading of written Torah. What value is there, then, in midrash? Midrash allows the reader to peak into the historical development of rabbinic Judaism and the halalkhic situations that were being dealt with at the time of any given midrash’s composition.

Brief note: The AS are content with using midrashic (or pesher-like) style application of Scripture. This is another issue in itself and differs from the halakhic process.

I start my interpretation of written Torah with an historical-grammatical and critical reading of any given passage. My pursuit of the most-likely reading of the text includes the asking of questions that pertain to the way in which the original recipients would have understood and applied the passage or commandment. After arriving at a level of comfort with the literal meaning of the text, I consult whatever midrashes or Jewish legal codes of relevance. But, I do not limit myself to rabbinic material. This is important to me, I also consider the testimony of non-rabbinics such as the historical Karaites (very important), Philo and Josephus (also very important), the Qumran sect (generally as a counter-example for what not to do), the Psuedopigrapha, the Targums, the church fathers, etc. I consult these sources when they provide examples of how others have applied a commandment to their situations.

I diverge from Protestant hermeneutics in my reliance on historical Jewish sources. I call this the “burden of inheritance.” When there is a net voice within the Jewish sources, I prefer to side with the historical application of Torah. Generally, the “plain sense” of the written Torah will agree with the “burden of inheritance” or written Torah will at least give an open door to it. I find this to be the most balanced approach to the value of historical Jewish readings. I acknowledge their methodological weaknesses, but I refuse to ignore them.

My friend Nate Long (www.natelong.com) posted the following on his blog:

“We do not want you to copy or imitate us. We want to be like a ship that has crossed the ocean, leaving a wake of foam, which soon fades away. We want you to follow the Spirit, which we have sought to follow, but which must be sought anew in every generation.”

This was taken from Why We Live In Community by Eberhard Arnold. I see this concretion as the ideal way to approach historical halakhah—not as concrete but rather as fluid. We can use it for a frame of reference, but it is up to the living to reapply and interpret the value of tradition to modern day exigencies.

Kol tuv,
PeterS (Tzuriel)

Community Markers II (Love)

Love

A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another: as I have loved you, that ye also love one another. By this shall all know that ye are My disciples, if ye have love one to another
(John 13:34-35)

…Let us not love in word, neither in tongue; but in deed and in truth.
(I John 3:18)

Yeshua through His suffering of the greatest cosmic injustice conceivable—the Creator suffering and dying on our behalf—expressed unprecedented love to the fallen and feeble. Through His example the love of God was spoken not as a word, nor in tongue but as the living and dying Word of God. In light of the vicarious death of Yeshua, the mitswah to love our neighbor finds its most profound example. Yeshua states, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

How is this love to inform our living or our application of Torah (viz, halakhah)? It is immediately apparent that Yeshua intended to challenge the ethnocentric or even covenantalistic paradigms of love displayed among His people. In Luke 10:29, Yeshua is asked, “Who is my neighbor?” Yeshua clearly demonstrates through the example of the Good Samaritan that the love expressed in Torah was not bubbled. The bubbles of His people included those of Judaic and/or sectarian identity. Today these bubbles are our immediate cultures and congregations. Rather than bubbled love, Yeshua desires effervescent love. Effervescent love bubbles over—it overflows as the living waters (mayim chayim) of the Spirit.

Yeshua’s example of love provides a paradigm that must inform our Torah observance. In community, it is easy to love one another’s virtues, but we must also accept each others’ vices. The apostle Peter states, “And above all things have fervent love among yourselves; for love shall cover the multitude of sins” (I Peter 4:8). This is love expressed by tolerance and grace. Tolerance must be exhibited for the disappointments and variegations in observance and doctrine in our communities. Such love, though, does not sugar coat sins of willful rebellion, but it allows grace to garnish growth.

Paul states, Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves. Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others” (Phil 2:3-4). Another expression of love is to put aside our pursuit of significance and esteem in order to esteem others. How beautiful is this?

Yeshua’s love is illustrated also in His observance of Shabbat. Rather than allowing the priority of Shabbat to limit His ministry on Shabbat, Yeshua used the occasion of Shabbat to perform some of His most dramatic illustrations of love vis-à-vis Torah observance. On Shabbat Yeshua was willing to perform work (“melakhah”) in order to show love and redemption to His neighbor. Redemptive or restorative love must inspire our observance of Shabbat. To ignore Yeshua’s example risks denigrating Shabbat into a day of restrictive taboos where redemptive action is excused for the sake of inactive piety.

By this shall all know that ye are My disciples, if ye have love one to another...