Can Anyone Tell Me What the Gospel Is?

Gospel is a funny word. I heard a long time ago that it comes from a middle English term, God-spell (no, I didn’t see the musical). The idea is that people are captivated by God through faith and caught, as it were, in a spell.

While that may be true, and I would agree God holds me spellbound, it is not what the term translated gospel in the New Testament is all about.

Actually, gospel translates evangelion, or good news. The ancient term finds its clearest context in the image of a messenger running from a battle to the worried population of a city. Will there be death and rape and pillaging today, or did the men of our town defeat the invader? It is a question of life and death, not a light concern. As the messenger approaches, he can be seen for miles and the dreadful anticipation of his message is the only thing anyone in that town is thinking about. Will it be disaster or gospel, calamity or evangelion, suffering or good news?

Our text at Tikvat David this Shabbat was a portion of Revelation 14, including verses 6-7:

Then I saw another angel flying directly overhead, and he had an eternal gospel to proclaim to those who live on the earth—to every nation, tribe, language, and people. He declared in a loud voice: “Fear God and give him glory, because the hour of his judgment has arrived, and worship the one who made heaven and earth, the sea and the springs of water!”

I asked my congregation, “What is the problem some people would see with this passage?” The answer came quickly, “It doesn’t say, ‘Believe in Jesus and be saved.’”

The apostolic use of the term gospel is distorted by so many things in contemporary and traditional religion. We have “gospel sermons” in many churches, or people complain if a Christian pastor does not “share the gospel” each week in his sermon. In many faith communities this means that the speaker must tell listeners “how to be saved.”

There are different elements people feel must be included in a “gospel” message: believe, Jesus died, be saved, not by works, if you want to be saved come forward during the invitation, etc.

Three Examples of the Gospel in the New Testament
There are precisely three times the New Testament spells out the gospel. In none of them do we find all of the elements I mentioned above that are commonly thought of as included in “the gospel.” In fact, only two of those elements (Jesus died, believe) are included in any of these three gospel examples in the New Testament:

The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel (Mark 1:15).

I preached to you the gospel . . . that Messiah died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures, and that he appeared . . . (1 Corinthians 15:1-5).

. . . an eternal gospel . . . “Fear God and give him glory, because the hour of his judgment has arrived, and worship the one who made heaven and earth, the sea and the springs of water!” (Revelation 14:6-7).

We learn from this that the gospel is not a singular message. It is a larger concept with many forms.

The gospel has an objective and a subjective sense. All three versions imply the coming of God to judge. Since the kingdom is coming, repent before it is too late. Messiah died for our sins, because God will judge. Fear God as the hour of his judgment has come. The objective sense is the reality of God and his order which overturns every other order and calls for us to reorder our lives.

The subjective sense is our response or lack of response. Paul’s explanation of the gospel is the only one that does not make the subjective sense plain. Yeshua’s version calls for repentance and surprisingly implies that the coming of the kingdom is something to fear. Revelation’s version is stated almost exclusively in terms of the subjective call to be prepared: fear, give glory, worship. The subjective call is implied in Paul’s version. Messiah died for our sins, a concise story which implies a part for us.

Too Small a Gospel?
The problem with the gospel as it is held in some faith communities is that it is too small.

In some places gospel does not include fearing and glorifying. There is a decided lack of vision for something bigger than ourselves, a kingdom, a reality which overtakes all false visions of reality.

If the gospel is merely a personal decision to receive a gift with no commandment to find one’s place in the larger mission of God, then it is a weak gospel. I am not alone by any means in saying the gospel of many faith communities needs an overhaul. There is much good in the communities which preach a limited gospel, but the signs of weakness are everywhere.

God’s rule on earth will be so much greater than people think. God is healing and perfecting creation and completing what he started building in the lives of people all over this earth. Those who fear and glorify see themselves not merely as recipients of a free kingdom which makes no difference here and now, but as servants to each and every person and to creation itself. The gospel is about God turning evil into good and there is plenty of work for those who fear and glorify, work in healing, helping, raising, restoring, building, feeding, giving, forgiving, representing, preserving, growing, repenting, and living.

Amidah, Lord’s Prayer, Early Traditions

In Volume 1 of David Instone-Brewer’s Traditions of the Rabbis From the Era of the New Testament we have a careful examination of which parts of the Mishnah order on agriculture (Zeraim, which begins with Berakhot or blessings) legitimately belongs to the time before 70 C.E.

To put it more simply, Instone-Brewer helps us see what parts of the Mishnah are from the time of the New Testament. To accomplish this, Instone-Brewer has worked painstakingly through a mountain of details and issues. Yet his books condense all of that research into short, easily readable references for the lazy among us who just want to see results.

I found a note from Mishnah Berakhot 4:3 that should interest all of us in the Messianic Jewish community as well as all who want to understand connections between Jewish and Christian tradition.

In this Mishnah text, the opinions of Gamaliel II, Joshua ben Hananiah, and Akiba are considered regarding the requirement to pray the Amidah (also called the Sh’monei Esrei or eighteen benedictions, the central prayer of Judaism).

While Gamaliel argued that the whole text of the Eighteen should be prayed, Joshua said only an abstract of them is required. By abstract he meant a shortened prayer that contains the essence of the whole Eighteen.

If you have not prayed the Amidah before, you may not be aware that it is a long prayer. Although the prayer traditions of Judaism have continued to expand to the point that the Amidah is merely one prayer in a very long litany of prayers (Shacharit or morning prayer in the full tradition is about a 45 minute commitment at high speed), still even by itself the Amidah is long enough to be discouraging to those who would like to pray.

From later generations in the Mishnah and Talmud we have examples of abstracts of the Amidah, such as this one from Eliezer ben Hyrcanus:

May your will be done in the heavens above,
and grant the ease of spirit to those who fear you,
and do what is good in your eyes,
Blessed is he who listens to prayer.
-Tosefta Berakhot 3:7

Instone-Brewer rates the concept of an abstract to be from the pre-70 era according to his fifth criteria: a tradition from an unnamed source which is assumed to be ancient by those discussing it in the second generation of Tannaim (c. 80-120 C.E.).

So, the idea of a shortened form of the Amidah existed in the New Testament era. In fact, says Instone-Brewer, this relates to the Lord’s Prayer:

The Lord’s Prayer appears to be an abstract of the Eighteen. It is very similar to the earliest abstract preserved in rabbinic literature, though with important differences. It was used in the early church in the same way as the Eighteen — i.e., they prayed it three times, standing, and used it as an outline for a longer prayer.

Similarities between the Lord’s Prayer and the Siddur are plentiful. Yet what struck me about this information from Instone-Brewer was twofold:

(1) Yeshua was likely engaging in a common practice, producing a shortened form of the central prayer of Judaism.

(2) That the church traditions after the New Testament era used the Lord’s Prayer like the abstracts of the Amidah: three times a day, standing, and building a longer prayer on it.

Instone-Brewer cites a few articles in support of these early church traditions for using the Lord’s Prayer. I had not realized that early Christians prayed three times a day standing.

It is one more example, of hundreds, in which we see Jewish faith and practice entering into the life of Yeshua’s followers. Sadly, these traditions were left behind long ago and are forgotten by all but a few.

PODCAST: Yeshua in Context – The Sower, Part 2

If you haven’t yet subscribed to the Yeshua in Context podcast, you can do it several ways. First, if you use iTunes, search Yeshua in the iTunes store and subscribe (free). This is the best way, since the more people who subscribe (and give it a good rating), the more people will come across this podcast in iTunes. If you’d like more people to read about Yeshua understood in his Jewish context, then you’d be doing a mitzvah by subscribing in iTunes.

Otherwise, you can go to derekleman.com, click Podcast, and Subscribe. Or just listen directly on derekleman.com at this link: Yeshua in Context: The Sower, Part 2.
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With this second episode on the Parable of the Sower, let’s have a discussion.

The parables, it is important to realize, are insider language. Yeshua intrigues crowds with his mysterious stories and at the same time builds his inner circle. Parables require concentration, puzzling out what Yeshua meant, having ears not only to hear, but to listen.

What do Yeshua’s stories for his inner circle mean for us as we desire to be insiders with Yeshua in the context of our own time and place?

Please share some thoughts, keeping in mind the five themes from the Sower that are often repeated in Yeshua’s parables:
–Delay – everyone thinks the reign of God will come easily for Israel, but first will be a call to follow and many will fail to listen.
–Yield – God expects a return of productiveness and fruitfulness from his servants.
–Restoration – God is saving Israel and the world from exile and oppression.
–Imminence – The reign of God on earth, in some sense, starts with Yeshua.
–Upheaval – The ones in power do not reflect the power structure in the time of God’s reign.

Parables, the Hebrew Bible, and Yeshua

I am doing some background research for my Yeshua in Context podcast (a new episode will be posted later today). Since I am focusing on the parables of Yeshua at the moment in the podcast, I wanted to look into the parables in Rabbinic literature and decide what, if anything, they tell us about Yeshua’s parables. Some writers point to the Rabbinic parables as parallels to those of Yeshua in spite of the fact that the Rabbinic parables are from a much later period. I want to be more cautious and give the possible relationship between them more thought. I am very skeptical of any of any suggestion that Yeshua’s parables are in some way related to those we find in Rabbinic documents.

As I began to look into this, I realized the beginning point really is the parables of the Hebrew Bible. There are basically five story parables in the Hebrew Bible. I found a handy list of them in Gary Porton’s article, “The Parable in the Hebrew Bible and Rabbinic Literature” in The Historical Jesus in Context, ed. Amy-Jill Levine, Dale C. Allison Jr., and John Dominic Crossan (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2006).

The Bramble King, Judges 9:7-15
Jotham is the last surviving son of Gideon (a.k.a. Jerubbaal) besides Abimelech, the leader of a coup who slaughters his own brothers in order to consolidate power. Jotham’s life is forfeit and he climbs a mountain to cry out a parable before going into hiding.

In Jotham’s parable, the trees are looking for a king. The good and productive trees and even the grapevine are too busy doing useful things like making olives, figs, and grapes to waste time on ambitions to power. So the trees approach the most useless among them, the bramble, and make him king. The bramble suspects they don’t really respect him and says that if they have made him king in bad faith, may fire come from the bramble and consume the trees.

Jotham then applies his parable in vss. 16 and following, giving us insight into the meaning of his parable. If the people of Shechem have acted in bad faith, they will be consumed by the violence of their bramble king, Abimelech.

This ancient parable is not easy to understand as the story does not exactly fit the details of Abimelech’s coup. In the story the bramble king himself warns of fire whereas in life it is Jotham, not Abimelech, who gives warning. We learn from this oldest of parables that the genre of parable is not a simple thing. Parables are riddles requiring work to solve and one to one correspondences are not required.

The Wealthy Sheep-Thief, 2 Samuel 12:1-14
Nathan’s morality tale exposing for David his own inner corruption is rightly famous. A wealthy landowner who has many sheep is obligated to give hospitality to a traveler. The greedy rogue that he is, the landowner takes the beloved pet sheep of a poor man so he will not reduce his multitudinous flock by one ewe or ram.

The genius of Nathan’s parable, of course, is using stereotyped characters and symbolic correspondences to trick David into condemning himself. David has taken the lone wife of a good man though David was rich in women. As David pronounces outrage and death upon the parabolic wealthy landowner, his own fate is sealed by the prophecy given to Nathan. God is more merciful to David than David would have been to the landowner.

We learn from this parable the value of figures and symbols in story. Symbols in story can remove us for while from our bias regarding events that entangle our lives. The simplicity of a story can make clear what our own memory and conscience keep at arm’s length.

The Brother-Slayer, 2 Samuel 14:1-20
David fell a second time to the ruse of a story purporting to be a case for the king to decide, which in reality was about his own affairs. This time Joab, general and advisor, sent a woman unknown to the king with a story. A widow had two sons as her only comfort in the world and in a dispute one son accidentally killed the other. The friends of the slain son sought to avenge him, forcing the surviving son to flee to a place of refuge. Now the widow had lost both sons, one to violence and another to a desire for brute justice. She begged the king to offer his protection to the surviving son and bring him out of refuge and exile.

The story is about David’s own family, as Absalom has been in exile for three years, having slain his brother Amnon for the rape of Tamar. The widow, in Joab’s mind, is like Israel, in desperate need of Absalom, whom Joab regards as the fitting king to follow David.

Again we learn that symbolic story can remove the ambiguity of life’s confusing turns.

The Stricken Prophet, 1 Kings 20:35-43
Ahab has won a battle though seriously outnumbered by Syrians under the command of Ben-Hadad. Though Ahab’s forces looked like two little flocks of goats and Ben-Hadad’s covered the land, by the prophetic word of God Ahab has prevailed. In the aftermath, Ahab let Ben-Hadad go and made a treaty with him, contrary to the word of prophecy.

A prophet approached another prophet and said, “Strike me.” Refusing to strike his fellow, this second prophet was killed by a lion for not obeying the prophetic command. A second time the prophet asked a man to smite him and this time he was wounded as he desired. Being wounded allowed the prophet to don a bandage and disguise himself so that Ahab would not recognize him.

Wearing the bandage, the prophet appeared before the king and told a story, “I was commissioned to guard a prisoner upon pain of death or pay a talent of silver if I failed.” Ahab told him that there was no need to bring a case as the judgment was evident: either death or a talent of silver. Like David before him, Ahab was deceived into pronouncing his own judgment. Ahab was the man who let the Ben-Hadad survive contrary to his commission from God.

The Sorry Vineyard, Isaiah 5:1-7
This last example of the parable in the Hebrew Bible is the most significant. It is the one that lies behind many of Yeshua’s own parables. Israel is a vineyard. God dug it, planted it, tended it, and yet it yielded wild grapes in spite of all God’s tender care. Therefore God will let his vineyard be devoured by removing his protection.

In several of Yeshua’s parables, God is the vineyard owner and Israel the vineyard. Yeshua said that the owner was coming soon and that his wrath would be displayed against his vineyard. In other places Yeshua uses the image of Israel as the vine in other ways. In John 15 Yeshua is the vine, the true Israel and the source of divinely-given life to the branches who are his disciples.

The parable of Isaiah 5 is much like the other parables of the Hebrew Bible. Using symbols the story deceives the listener into sympathizing. Who would not share the vexation of the vineyard owner who worked hard only to see wild grapes take over his vineyard? Who could not imagine in wrath digging up the fence and letting the failed vineyard be devoured by overgrowth?

The trick of the parable comes when the symbols are revealed. It is me. I am the vineyard. I have vexed the God who made me. It is I who will be devoured.

Yeshua had a precedent for these stories which invite hearers to indict themselves, to see themselves from a distance, to take a deeper look into reality and see a new perspective. In many ways they served Yeshua’s purpose: teaching without raising the alarm from the Temple leadership or Rome too quickly. Yet they also served a greater purpose: to give those with ears to listen a new paradigm, a surprising one, in which their lives would be re-ordered and forever changed.

What if Starbucks Marketed Like Churches?

Absolutely hilarious, true, and revealing. Kudos to the folks at beyondrelevance.com:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D7_dZTrjw9I

Jews and Christians Together . . . in Holy Matrimony

Rich Nichol, the Director of the Rabbinical Ordination Institute at MJTI (mjti.com) says, “For final redemption to occur, the Church and the Jewish people must come together as never before.”

Stuart Dauermann, the Senior Scholar at MJTI just released a booklet this year called Christians and Jews Together.

Of course, what they are both talking about is the happy realization by Jews that Christians practice an essentially Jewish faith and by Christians that Judaism is not a foreign religion, but the faith practice of Jesus himself. Dauermann, like Nichol, writes about the coming together of Jews and Christians that must and will occur for Geulah Shlemah, full redemption to arrive (a.k.a. consummation, the perfection and completion of creation).

Just to be clear, no one is talking about Christians compromising on faith in Yeshua as Messiah. There is no reason for compromise. The old idea that one cannot be centered on Messiah and living a Jewish life at the same time is narrow and prejudicial.

With all of this talk of togetherness, we should not overlook the most tangible way that Jews and Christians are coming together, which is to say that we should consider the reality of intermarriage between Jews and Christians in America.

In 1970, surveys revealed that intermarriage in the Jewish community occurred about 17 percent of the time. By 2001, the figure was about 50 percent (American Jewish Identity Survey, 2001, see Arnold Dashefsky with Zachary I. Heller, Intermarriage and Jewish Journeys, The National Center for Jewish Policy Studies at Hebrew College, Newton Centre, MA, 2008).

What makes intermarriage between Jews and non-Jews triple in 30 years? The answer: pluralism.

There was a time when Methodists did not marry Presbyterians. Seriously. And Jews and Christians had more limited interaction. The social worldview of Americans was anything but pluralistic. Jews were “the other” to Catholics and Protestants and Christians were “the oppressors to be watched carefully and not trusted.”

I am no expert in pluralism and sociological trends. I am speaking out of my depth. But I am guessing that media (movies, television, global news, etc.) has a lot to do with bringing disparate people groups closer together. It is more difficult to regard a Muslim, Hindu, or Orthodox Jew as a non-person when you see these people and families in the media. Lack of knowledge and insularism formerly kept people groups separate.

I do my own little experiment in regard to intermarriage. I live in Georgia, in the deep south, the Bible belt. Granted, I am in Atlanta, a city largely made up of transplants from the northeast and upper midwest. Yet I try my experiment not only in Atlanta, but in small towns in south Georgia, in South Carolina, Tennessee, and Alabama.

When speaking in churches, I almost always ask for a show of hands, “How many of you have a Jewish relative (niece, nephew, son-in-law, daughter-in-law, etc.)?” Mind you, these are usually Southern Baptist churches. Always I get a show of hands, and never just one. This month, for example, I spoke in a small, contemporary church. With 80-90 people present, a good 6-8 raised their hand.

Baptists and Jews getting married? You bet. One of my closest friends is a Goldberg who married a Baptist.

There are now over one million intermarried couples in the United States. That’s in a Jewish population of 5-7 million (there is debate about the exact boundaries of who is considered Jewish). In many cases, these intermarrieds and their adult children are not included in the “official” numbers in Jewish population surveys. Part of the reason is that many, especially adult children of intermarriage, are uncertain of their identity. Am I Jewish? I don’t know.

All of this has tremendous implications for Messianic Judaism.

The Jewish world, both in books and synagogue programs, offers one solution: the Christian spouse and the children must become Jewish and renounce Jesus.

It’s interesting, because Christianity gets a bad rap, often deservedly so, for being intolerant and conversionist. Well, how do you like the idea that a synagogue community welcomes a non-Jewish spouse primarily through conversion? And what of children of such intermarriges, 35 percent of whom are raised Christian? Rabbi Arthur Blecher says the following:

Currently American Judaism employs a coercive response regarding Jews and Christian faith: This is not what Jews believe; if you believe this, you are no longer a Jew. (Arthur Blecher, The New American Judaism: The Way Forward on Challenging Issues from Intermarriage to Jewish Identity. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007).

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What can Messianic Judaism do about all of this?

First of all, we need our own media campaign. We need to promote the idea that the Jewish and Christian sides of intermarriage are equally viable and valuable.

We know a place where a Jew who does not believe traditional doctrines about Jesus and the Christian spouse who seeks to integrate Jewish life and Jesus into the family are more than welcome. In case I am being obtuse here, I mean a Messianic Jewish synagogue.

We now have a major media effort underway, one which I believe is winsome and helpful for intermarried families and adult children of intermarriage.

It is a project of MJTI and you can find in at intermarrieds.com.

Intermarrieds.com features the writing of David Rudolph, author of Growing Your Olive Tree Marriage, and Ellen Quarry, a marriage and family counselor who was married to a Christian, Mike Quarry, until his death in 2006.

Intermarrieds.com will feature blog posts, articles, books with practical help, and a potential for some conversation and dialogue. If you are intermarried, I hope you will visit it often. If you are no intermarried, I hope you understand the importance of this issue and will visit the site and recommend it to friends who are intermarried.

Jews and Christians are together more than ever. And Messianic Judaism is an option explored by too few who would benefit from our environment of Jesus-faith and Jewish life.

Jesus Creed and a Brush with Celebrity

What is it like to encounter one of your favorite writers and thinkers in person?

Instead of the usual Sunday morning sleep-in, I rose early and brought my 18-year-old-about-to-move-out daughter with me to a church in Atlanta. When I go to churches, I am usually the speaker, so it was a nice change to go with no responsibility.

From my home in Snellville (far east suburb of Atlanta) we headed to Alpharetta (far north suburb) to the mightily famous North Point Community Church, home of Andy Stanley. According to this website, North Point has more than 22,000 attendees at their three campuses, making it the largest church in Georgia. I believe it as I sat in a crowd of three to five thousand in the 9:00 a.m. service.

I arrived early, on a mission to hear in person a writer, blogger, theologian, professor, and Biblical scholar whose books have been a source of inspiration and information for me: Scot McKnight (The Jesus Creed Blog). We were so early, people were waiting for the auditorium doors to open. As soon as they did, my daughter and I headed to a seat. In typical Leman style I went for the front seat, closest to the middle as possible (the middle front section was reserved for staff).

After a short wait, I had a brush with celebrity as Andy Stanley and Scot McKnight came and sat . . . next to me. How do you like that? And I didn’t even intend to arrange that. Okay, there was an aisle between us, but still how cool is it to have Andy Stanley sitting next to you? He has an unusual, but interesting way of getting into the music during worship, by the way, and it was fascinating watching Andy in action.

I came to hear Scot because I’ve read a ton of his books, I read his blog five days a week, and he and I know each other and have had email dialogues about theology.

Scot didn’t recognize me by sight, but when we had a second to greet each other, I said my name and we were connected.

What is it like to encounter someone you admire in person? Would he live up to the hype I had generated in my own mind? Would he be a disappointment?

First, his appearance, in spite of pictures I have seen online, was not exactly what I expected. Lesson, headshots online don’t tell you everything. He has a bit of Dietrich Bonhoeffer thing going on: close-cropped, mostly balding head, wire-rimmed spectacles, and an air of intellectualism. His voice, which as a reader I felt I knew, was different than in my imagination. But it was him, North Park professor and Jesus Creed blogger in person.

Scot was speaking about the Jesus Creed, which is not only the title of his blog but also of one of his numerous books in print. If you haven’t read it, why not?

The idea is a Christian professor is suggesting that the Shema, as expanded by Jesus, is something all Christians would benefit from reciting morning and evening. McKnight posits that the twice-daily practice of reciting Shema was around in Jesus’ time (I suspect he is right, though our sources are later than first-century). The idea of the book is simple: to have Christians adopt a Jewish practice amplified by our Messiah (Jesus added Leviticus 19:18 to the standard Shema of Deuteronomy 6:4-5).

The implications of Christians reciting the expanded Shema are profound. Commandments have certainly not been an emphasis in many schools of Christianity. The Shema and the command to love one’s neighbor add a tangible dimension to Christian faith. The big payoff for the discipline of reciting the creed is to see all people as neighbors and to see the love of God in practical actions like sharing encouragement or a cup of water with someone.

At one point in the presentation, Scot recited the first part of the Shema (Deuteronomy 6:4-5). My daughter blushed and my ego enjoyed its heyday as Scot asked (in front of maybe four thousand people), “How did I do Derek?” Okay, that felt good, I thought as I raised a thumbs up. Note to self, if Scot is ever in the audience, I will not attempt to pronounce Greek. He then said, “We’ve got a Messianic Jewish rabbi sitting on the front row.”

Though Andy Stanley did look over at me sitting next to him at that point, and though I did get to briefly thank Andy afterwards for having Scot as a speaker, I am here to say no one asked me for my autograph after the service (this in spite of the fact I stood at the exit door with my pen in hand).

It was a fun day and getting called out in front of a giant crowd is a nice feeling, I’m not ashamed to admit. More so, I am thrilled at the openness to reading Jesus in his true context, as a Jew.

This is a welcome development and may it continue to increase. As Messianic rabbi friend, Rich Nichol, says, “For final redemption to occur, Jewish and Christian people must come together as never before.”

May it be so. And thank you, Scot, for your part, and Andy, for yours. Now let’s go love God and neighbor.

A Dilettante, a Purloiner, a Trekker

I confess. I am a dabbler, a dilettante, a shameless purloiner of ideas and poetic tidbits of wisdom from a legion of books and writers. At times I feel like a poser. I only finish about half of the books I start, but don’t move any books in my library around, because when I want to read something looking for an idea, I can become violent if my book isn’t where it is supposed to be.

The fact is, life is an unexplored jungle and I feel like a trekker cataloguing parts unknown. I don’t mean to say that I have some kind of idiotic exclusive. I just think the jungle is so vast there is room for billions of fellow trekkers.

Take this morning, for example. I read a juicy quote by Kierkegaard and came within yards of turning my Chevy Suburban into the parking lot of Borders to enjoy a Seattle’s Best Latte and perhaps steal half an hour poring over some Kierkegaardian prose. I’m fairly certain a blog post would have resulted from it.

I do try to focus. I’m not interested in politics or sports (except one sport in particular). I don’t read science much, though I have a romantic fascination with it that goes back to my days in engineering school. Celebrity gossip? I give it 30 seconds of attention every time I am in the checkout line at the store.

I try to narrow my interests and reading to Biblical studies and theology. Philosophy always threatens to worm its way in and calls me siren-like. History, especially ancient history, beckons. Literature and linguistics lure me.

How can a person focus when there is so much fun to be had?

Even now, my decision to specialize in Ezekiel studies is taking root and the reading I have already done is great. Yet at the same time I am doing a weekly podcast on Yeshua’s parables, writing a book on Revelation, and thinking of writing a study guide on Qohelet (Ecclesiastes).

Honestly, my problem in blogging is narrowing down to a subject when everything seems so interesting.

I wouldn’t want to give a false impression of myself as the ever-cheerful explorer able to ignore the oppressive heat and swarming flies of this jungle of discovery called life. Life isn’t an unending succession of enthusiastic explorations. Thankfully there are thousands of other great things, like rolling on the bed with my one and three year olds, tickling and laughing, or the first hug in the morning with my wife (usually lasts about two and half minutes).

Still, I do get bored, like everyone else. I do dread the grim mundane which necessarily faces me day in and day out.

But there is always a turn of Biblical poetry to think about. “How can I say something about this which will capture the interest of a distracted world?” So much to learn. So much to communicate.

I try to keep it simple. Bible and theology (a little philosophy, history, and literature thrown in). Okay, science wants to have a small place too.

Meanwhile, I purloin ideas and poetic lines from a thousand writers. A little Lewis here or Heschel there, a solo grande hazelnut frappuccino with N.T. Wright, breakfast with Scot McKnight, and Ezekiel’s chariot before bed.

Countless questions, limitless discoveries.

PODCAST: Yeshua in Context—The Sower Part 1

Okay, I’m new at this Podcast thing. There is a way to do it directly on wordpress, but I have some uncertainty about file size. If anyone is way in the know about GarageBand, podcasting, and wordpress, email me at derekblogger@gmail.com

Do me a favor if you can and are willing. Open your iTunes and search “Yeshua in Context.” You will find my podcast there. Subscribe or download it to your iPod and give it a positive rating. It can only be a good thing to promote Messianic Jewish podcasts on iTunes.
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Have you ever wondered what the parables of Yeshua mean? They seem to be the hardest parts of the Bible to understand. What was helpful for me was to put it all in the context of Yeshua’s time and the expectations people had about the rule of God on earth (the kingdom). What did people expect? How did Yeshua’s parables relate to those expectations? What is the message in our time? In part 1, we explore the interpretation and implications of Mark 4:1-20.

Click here for Yeshua in Context: The Sower, Part 1.

A Few Minutes into the Resurrection

I believe in a certain story that informs the book of Revelation and which is expanded upon in its twenty two chapters. It is a story about Israel being renewed and a multitude from the nations joining them in welcoming the rule of God to the earth. The story is told in various pieces by the prophets of Israel, beginning with Moses. In Revelation the story grows in detail and especially in a closer view of that multitude from the nations, the ones who carry the news of Messiah and the attestation of his coming into the world.

There are a number of surprising details filled in as the visions of John on Patmos unfold.

As I prepared to teach my congregation about Revelation 14:1-5, I didn’t expect a surprise. The first dozen times I read these five verses, I came up blank. What scene was being described here? How did this scene fit into the larger story? How did these details fit together?

The passage raised a number of questions:

Then I looked, and here was the Lamb standing on Mount Zion, and with him were one hundred and forty-four thousand, who had his name and his Father’s name written on their foreheads.

I also heard a sound coming out of heaven like the sound of many waters and like the sound of loud thunder. Now the sound I heard was like that made by harpists playing their harps, and they were singing a new song before the throne and before the four living creatures and the elders. No one was able to learn the song except the one hundred and forty-four thousand who had been redeemed from the earth.

These are the ones who have not defiled themselves with women, for they are virgins. These are the ones who follow the Lamb wherever he goes. These were redeemed from humanity as firstfruits to God and to the Lamb, and no lie was found on their lips; they are blameless.

Why is the Lamb standing on Mt. Zion? Why are the only ones with him the 144,000? Does the song make sense: waters, thunder, harps? Why were these the only ones who could learn the song? What does “redeemed from the earth” mean exactly? What makes these 144,000 from the tribes of Israel first fruits? What is the note about not being defiled with women all about?

When I pondered each individual question and the relation of each to the whole, I came up with a story for this scene that astonished me. This was a few minutes into the great resurrection at the end of the age. Messiah the Lamb was standing in Jerusalem about to begin his reign. The 144,000 were chosen as first fruits of the resurrection, before the rest of the faithful dead and the faithful living.

In this moment, pregnant with possibility, the seer captured a scene of stunning beauty. Just the Lamb and his first fruits stood there. The rest were soon to come and there would be a brief but bloody war against the nations launching themselves against Jerusalem. Is Messiah enjoying a quiet moment just before the painful task of conquering warfare and evil?

Several things persuaded that this is how Revelation 14:1-5 fits into the larger story. These 144,000 from the tribes of Israel are first fruits. They are also a sort of last fruits, part of the last fruits of faith on the earth. What sense could they be first in?

Combine this with the idea that they have been “redeemed from the earth.” Is this simply a description of some spiritual transaction, they have been made alive spiritually from the earth? It could be more, that they died and have have been redeemed body and spirit, resurrected. This would make them first fruits, like Yeshua is the first fruits of those who sleep (1 Cor. 15:20).

What an uncommon scene. One can only imagine the mixture of joy and sadness as our Messiah waits there on Jerusalem, enjoying the presence first of the 144,000, and soon after the faithful dead from all the ages who will join him and then all the faithful who are alive and will be caught up with him in the air. It is a moment of joy before the sadness of war, a judgment that must come on those who have chosen death and evil as their gods. It is proleptic scene of tranquility before the storm and then there will be tranquility again, as the rule of God brings peace at last to the earth.

If you’d like to see a slideshow with more details check here and for access to all the slideshows on Revelation, check here.

On Confidence, Community, and non-Jews in MJ

One of several books I am reading is Gary Tobin’s Opening the Gates, a call for mainstream Jewish denominations and organizations to engage in proactive conversion. His call is for synagogues to welcome rather than turn away the numerous non-Jews who show some interest in Judaism, whether due to intermarriage or through intellectual or spiritual searching.

Recently I summarized the first chapter of Tobin’s book here. The main reaction I got was members of the tribe saying, “Slow down.” I certainly understand why. And as I reacted to these comments more than once, I reminded people that Tobin’s suggestions are for the mainstream Jewish community and I was not suggesting that we in Messianic Judaism can simply apply them directly.

Mainstream Judaism is in a different place than Messianic Judaism. The differences include the good, the bad, and the ugly. Obviously I think the biggest difference is the joy and peace we have in our realization that Yeshua is Messiah. This lends an ardor to Messianic Judaism that is sometimes lacking in mainstream Judaism. Yet it is two other differences that bear more directly on the question of how to incorporate non-Jews into Messianic Judaism.

On Some Differences Between Mainstream and Messianic Judaism
Mainstream Judaism, particularly Conservative, Reform, and Reconstructionist synagogues, suffer from some level of identity insecurity just like Messianic Judaism does. Many adherents of these synagogues do not feel “Jewish enough.” There is, consequently, an unwillingness to encourage conversion. Diluting Jewishness is precisely what those insecure about their own Jewishness are afraid to do.

Yet the difference between mainstream and Messianic Judaism on this point is real: mainstream Judaism has every reason to have more confidence in their Jewish identity as it is already structured while Messianic Judaism must overcome a very real lack of Jewishness.

That is, mainstream synagogues, though feeling insecure in many ways, have nonetheless built Jewish space, Jewish life, and a Jewish ethic for their members that is clear and reproducible. Messianic Judaism, and I’m talking here only about the stream that is actually about Jewish people and Messiah, is still shrugging off its early Hebrew Christianity phase. Widespread mistrust of rabbinic literature, ignorance of history and tradition, and the inability to integrate in a truly Jewish manner our connection to both Christianity and Judaism still plague us.

The other difference I wish to highlight casts a more positive light on Messianic Judaism. We have a much greater ability to attract the non-Jew (I am speaking per capita, not total numbers, as our movement is obviously dwarfed by mainstream Judaism).

A Reform synagogue, if it set out on a decade-long program of welcoming all non-Jews interested in participating and in converting, would find it difficult to achieve a 50% ratio of non-Jews.

A Messianic synagogue, if it set out on a decade-long program of making non-Jews feel unwelcome and excluding them as much as possible from public ceremony, leadership, and liturgy would find it difficult to get their non-Jewish membership below 50%.

We offer the vibrancy of Yeshua-faith as well as the tradition and intellectual depth of Judaism. Untold masses of dissatisfied church-goers are interested in joining our communities.

Considering a Proposal from Tobin
Speaking about mainstream synagogues and their situation with regard to growth and inclusion, Tobin says:

Perhaps the greatest fear among those who wish to keep out the stranger is that the communal and ethnic ties are too weak to assist in-group inculcation and value-formation. Just as some Jews believe they are not religious enough, others may believe the community is not strong enough, distinct enough, or separate enough to absorb newcomers. Perhaps the community has been too weakened to identify the aspects of peoplehood that converts, through both the religious and the ethnic doors, would adopt.

Asking people to choose Judaism requires more of a sense of which identity and which behavior people are being asked to assume. Jews cannot advocate others joining their ranks without offering a set of values and norms. (pp. 50-51)

Tobin does not think that the mainstream Jewish community is actually too weak to incorporate non-Jews.

Yet we must admit, and this is what many of the Jewish commenters have been saying here on Messianic Jewish Musings, that Messianic Judaism is too weak to do well at incorporating large numbers of non-Jews.

The non-Jews among us, and I myself am not a born-Jew, must realize that if Messianic Judaism is to be about the remnant of Israel growing into Messiah and embodying the promise of Israel’s renewal, then Messianic Judaism must be a continuation of Israel and not a detour away from Israel.

This is the other side of the issue of inclusiveness in Messianic Jewish synagogues. Sure, we have plenty of reasons for incorporating and assimilating into our Jewish body the many non-Jews who understand the calling of Israel. Yet we also have a lack of Jewish strength which makes the insecurity of mainstream synagogues seem laughable.

Any theology of non-Jews in Messianic Judaism must not leave out this side of the equation. Any non-Jews demanding greater inclusion must understand and be part of the solution and not the problem.

Can these difficulties be overcome? Can Messianic Judaism bear the strain of weak Jewish identity further weakened by strangers who wish to redefine Jewish priorities? I do hope you will comment.

Love in the Messianic Age, Paul Philip Levertoff

A friend just told me yesterday he is going to graduate school with a concentration in Jewish mysticism and its history.

I myself have read very little Jewish mysticism and kabbalah and so forth. I remarked that my own plans to do doctoral work with a concentration in Ezekiel will bring me across texts in merkavah mysticism (merkavah means chariot and refers to the divine chariot vision at the beginning of Ezekiel). There is a subtext in Jewish writings from the early period of mysticism about the Divine Chariot vision, including many Talmudic texts.

In spite of my lack of experience with Jewish mystical texts, I did have a phase of life in which I read Christian mystics. A guest in my home library might notice The Cloud of Unknowing and The Interior Castle on my shelf, for example. I also enjoyed Bernard of Clairvaux’s homilies at one time, especially in Song of Songs. I regard Augustine as a bit of a mystic and count Confessions among the best books I have ever read.

I am familiar with and still have a leaning to that sort of deep emotional and transcendent longing.

I have some distrust for Kabbalah. The Lurianic myth behind kabbalistic thought is something I find appalling. God contracted into his innermost being to leave room for creation? In the process the six lower emanations burst and cracked vessels of divine glory require people to do mitzvot to restore the glory to its place? It reminds me of a Christian theology called Process Theology, in which God’s power is not absolute and in which evil could possibly win the cosmic battle.

Like many others, I prefer a simpler idea of Tikkun Olam (repair of the world) — not God needing our help to get the sparks of his glory back, but God leaving some of the work of healing and restoration to his creatures as a gift to us.
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All of that preface leads up to my recommendation of and some thoughts about the newly reprinted edition of Paul Philip Levertoff’s Love in the Messianic Age (2009, Vine of David).

The book is very brief, with short biography of Levertoff (1878 – 1954), born to an Orthodox Jewish family with Chasidic ancestry in Belarus, who became an Anglican priest after concluding that Yeshua is Messiah. Levertoff worked in many areas to build a Jewish Christianity, making, for example, a communion liturgy integrated with Jewish liturgy (someone help me here — I can’t remember if he integrated communion with the Amidah or simply with Kiddush or what).

Levertoff is one of those amazing figures, like Edersheim, the two Lichtensteins, Rabinowitz, and others who preceded Messianic Judaism by decades, but in some ways anticipated it.

Vine of David is the new imprint of First Fruits of Zion dedicated to projects such as this Levertoff volume. They also plan to produce a complete Messianic Siddur, release more Levertoff books, a commentary on Matthew with notes by Yechiel Lichtenstein, and more. See more about these worthy projects building a legacy for Messianic Judaism at vineofdavid.org.

I am reading Levertoff slowly. It is a very short book, but one worth going over and over. He has distilled the thought of Hasidism and kabbalah, removing or omitting some of the troubling ideas, and integrating it with Yeshua-faith and, interestingly, the Gospel of John.

In other words, Love in the Messianic Age is a sort of Jewish-Christian distillation of the best of Jewish mystical thought integrated with the Fourth Gospel. If that does not sound like intensive spiritual reading I don’t know what does.

Some of the troubling ideas of kabbalah remain and Levertoff’s theology would not match mine in many areas (no surprise). Nonetheless, this is a book to return to again and again, like wisdom literature. The ideas and concepts draw the reader into the edges of the shekhina, illuminating the soul.

The Bad News Bible

As a part of my long, slow preparation for a return to Hebrew Bible studies, I am reading The Prophets by Abraham Joshua Heschel.

The first chapter started on an alarming note, depressing me more and more with each word. It was not what I wanted to hear. Heschel described the mindset of the prophet, one so entranced by a vision of God that their view of all the people around them could only be critical, seeing every shortcoming and fault as a withdrawal from the divine holiness.

I have to admit that having spent years in a religious atmosphere that decried evil in man with virtually every breath and which naively looked upon the members of our group as exceptions to the rule of wickedness, I have enjoyed seeing the other side. My focus on humanity has moved more to an appreciation of the positive, seeing the stamp of our Father’s image imprinted in even the least likely places of human existence.

And so from this recently found appreciation for the divine side of humanity, I was not in a mood to read these stark words about the prophetic mindset.

Some stirring quotes from Heschel in this chapter should give an idea of the tone:

The niggardliness of our moral comprehension, the incapacity to sense the depth of misery caused by our own failure, is a fact which no subterfuge can elude. Our eyes are witness to the callousness and cruelty of man, but our heart tries to obliterate the memories, to calm the nerves, and to silence our conscience.

The prophet is a man who feels fiercely. God has thrust a burden upon his soul and he is bowed and stunned at man’s fierce greed. Frightful is the agony of man; no human voice can convey its full terror. Prophecy is the voice that God has lent to the silent agony, a voice to the plundered poor, to the profaned riches of the world. It is a form of living, a crossing point of God and man. God is raging in the prophet’s words.

…………………

Who could bear living in a state of disgust day and night? The conscience builds its confines, is subject to fatigue, longs for comfort, lulling, soothing. Yet those who are hurt, and He who inhabits eternity, neither slumber nor sleep.

The prophet is sleepless and grave. The frankincense of charity fails to sweeten cruelties. Pomp, the scent of piety, mixed with ruthlessness, is sickening to him who is sleepless and grave.

………………..

Above all, the prophets remind us of the moral state of a people: Few are guilty, but all are responsible. If we admit that the individual is in some measure conditioned or affected by the spirit of society, an individual’s crime discloses society’s corruption. In a community not indifferent to suffering, uncompromisingly impatient with cruelty and falsehood, continually concerned for God and every man, crime would be infrequent rather than common.

A reader doesn’t have to search with a candle in the dark to find denunciations of cold-hearted humanity in the prophets. They leap out from nearly every page. As Heschel observes, the fulminations of the prophets seem at times like niggling criticisms. The world will end, says the prophet, because people too much enjoy the comfort of fine houses and turn away the cries of those in need. Is it a crime to be comfortable, isolated? Yes, says the prophet and we wonder how anyone can be righteous.

This is the bad news Bible, no offense to the fine translation known as the Good News Bible. It is the persistent voice which will not go away. It reminds us that we have not achieved the peace and goodness of the World to Come and holds us accountable to work for it despite the seeming impossibility.

It is a nagging voice that never lets us become comfortable with our good intentions and our reasonable expectation of some comfort in this world.

The bad news is not the prophet’s final word. Nearly every prophet includes a vision of the Messianic era, the World to Come. We need them both, the badgering voice of doom and the rousing voice of hope. The teacher reminds us, “It is better to go to a house of mourning than to a house of feasting; for that is the end of every man, and a living one should take it to heart” (Ecclesiastes 7:2). We cannot dwell only on the good news all the time, though to view the ugly without a view of the beautiful would be equally untrue.

C.S. Lewis, Francis Collins, and the Moral Argument

My own heart and mind were first turned to God by reading C.S. Lewis and specifically Mere Christianity. Since that time, I have read most of Lewis’s works, fiction and non-fiction and, suffice it to say, I am a fan.

Though his writing style is relatively simple (some find him difficult, but I fear this is due to the low level of literature in our day), he is a well-read scholar in the humanities. I once read a lot of philosophers on the subject of love and then found Lewis’s The Four Loves to be a soul-delighting stroll through bright meadows and green hills. Yet I concluded that Lewis had read every idea I had encountered and more though he did not put on any pretense or footnote hundreds of references.

In particular it was the moral argument for God that persuaded me to give up my nineteen years of agnosticism with atheist leanings. I won’t rehearse the moral argument for God here, but I encourage you to read it for yourself, preferably in Lewis’s version and not in some shoddy website (if you go immediately after this and google the term “moral argument for God” I will symbolically punch you).

I was reminded of the power of discovering evidence for God in my own world and within the bounds of what knowledge I can posses when I picked up Francis Collins’ The Language of God.

If you don’t know, let me tell you that Francis Collins is the head of the Human Genome Project and is, therefore, no mean scientist. He is persuaded by his studies that evolution explains the history of life on this planet. He also believes quite firmly in God and in Christianity.

Lately, at the local Borders bookstore, I have noticed the growing section of atheistic books, the new atheists as they are called, including Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens, and Sam Harris to name the leading writers. The only one whose prose even interested me so far is Christopher Hitchens. The man is a great writer (though I am sad to say I find his philosophizing unsophisticated).

It seems I have seen, though I cannot quote a title, a volume or two specifically seeking to overthrow the moral argument on the basis of evolutionary science. In order to do that, the evolutionary scientist must explain altruism and moral codes genetically.

The books now popping up on Borders Bookstore shelves claim to do that.

It was refreshing to read Francis Collins, in the very first chapter of his book, explain and simply refute these counter-arguments vaunted against the moral argument. It is nothing more than wishful thinking for people who wish God did not exist to take the thorniest intellectual and epistemological problem of atheism and try to rationalize it away.

And the irony is that those who so greatly wish to prove a Godless universe cannot escape the moral law themselves, and find themselves living according to the very thing they deny exists. Truth, in some cases, is inescapable even to those who choose not to look upon it.

Meanwhile, Collins’ obvious reverence for Lewis and especially for Mere Christianity reminds me of the joy I have had in reading Lewis over the years and often rereading him.

The following is a short list of recommendations for those who might decide to read the greatest writer, in my opinion, in recent Christian literature, if you judge writing by both style and import:

Mere Christianity is your first assignment in Lewis. It is very short and you could finish in a few days of light reading.

The Great Divorce is about residents of hell who take a field trip to heaven. It should be your second stop and it may leave the longest impression. I have read it a dozen times.

The Four Loves is another life-changing book and will not only inform, but completely capture your soul if you have a shred of humanity in you (which, of course, you do).

Out of the Silent Planet, Perelandra are the first two in a science fiction trilogy. They are theological science fiction and if you read them you will quickly see what I mean. The third is not as good, but if you are in love with the series, go ahead and try the third one too.

’Til We Have Faces is a bit harder, more literary and dense, in terms of fiction, but is one of the greatest novels I have ever read. This book does not get enough appreciation in my opinion.

Narnia would be a great read after you have absorbed the Lewis essentials above.

The Screwtape Letters are not as good, in my opinion as those listed above, but worth reading if you have captured the Lewis bug.

Other works by Lewis: I haven’t mentioned them all, but the titles above are more than a good start. Happy reading.

1 Cor. 10, Gentiles, Jews, and Our Fathers

Every now and then you come across an interesting blog you’ve never read before. I had the pleasure of discovering the Sibboleth blog by Daniel Kirk in San Francisco. Sibboleth is a reference to Judges 12:5-6. Shibboleth refers now in popular idiom something you have to say to pass muster. Sibboleth is, of course, the thing you must not say or you will be scorned/slaughtered/something bad. I guess Daniel sees himself as saying the dangerous things — and he does.

In particular, I read this post and the gears started turning. Daniel touched on an idea which is close to the heart of a major issue in Messianic Judaism: the role of non-Jews in our community. Here at Messianic Jewish Musings, I am spending time this summer reading, reflecting, and commenting particularly on this issue. By summer’s end, I hope to articulate a theology of non-Jews and their role in Messianic Judaism.

We’ve already talked about a more inclusive Messianic Judaism, Gary Tobin’s book Opening the Gates, and more (use the category tool at right to find articles on the category Gentiles to find many posts on this topic).

I feel that Daniel’s Kirk’s post, “Our Fathers: Mishnah and Paul” makes an interesting contribution. So here is my summary and expansion of Daniel’s thoughts.

The Problem
In Jewish ceremony (the issue then was the Temple and the issue now is the synagogue), how are the Gentiles to participate in various blessings which refer to the patriarchs as “our fathers”?

On a related note, there are other situations in synagogue life, such as the blessings over the Torah, in which the one making the aliyah says “who has chosen us from all peoples” and “who has given us true instruction” and so on.

The Mishnah’s Response
In the section on Bikkurim (Firstfruits offerings), the Mishnah deals with the question of non-Jews (Proselytes) and how they will recite the traditional formula from Deuteronomy for the offerer to the priest. The Deuteronomy text says the offerer should recite, “I acknowledge this day before the Lord your God that I have entered the land that the Lord swore to our fathers to assign us” (26:3).

The problem is obvious, for a convert to Judaism or any other non-Jew (by birth), the patriarchs are not their literal fathers.

Here is how the Mishnah deals with the problem:

These people bring firstfruits but do not recite:
A proselyte brings but does not recite, because he is not able to say, “…which the Lord swore to our fathers to give us.”
But if his mother was an Israelite, he brings and recites.
And when the proselyte prays in private, he says, “God of the fathers of Israel.”
And when he prays in synagogue he says, “God of your fathers.”
But if his mother was an Israelite he says, “God of our fathers.”
(Mishnah Bikkurim 1:4, adapted from the Neusner translation).

In other words, a convert to Judaism, since he or she is not a born Jew, should reflect this in the wording of blessings. The Mishnah advises that substitute phrases be employed. Note that this could work to the embarrassment of the convert for the rest of his/her life, but perhaps there were no theological concepts which permitted the sages to do otherwise.

Paul’s Practice
Contrast Paul. Paul is dealing with a community in which a non-Jews relationship to the patriarchs is understood differently.

Abraham is considered the father of the nations by faith. In fact, Paul notes that God’s promises came to Abraham before he was circumcised, including the declaration that Abraham was credited with righteousness due to his faith (Gen. 15:6) as well as the promise of land, nation, and blessing. Paul discusses this in Romans 4:9-12 and concludes:

[Abraham is] likewise the father of the circumcised who are not merely circumcised but also follow the example of the faith which our father Abraham had before he was circumcised.

This fatherhood by faith which is the birthright of all who call on Abraham’s God leads Paul to a practice that differs from the Mishnah’s ruling.

In 1 Corinthians 10:1, Paul is deriving a lesson for the congregation at Corinth (largely non-Jewish followers of the Jewish Messiah). In describing the patriarchs, Paul does not choose to distance these non-Jews from the patrirachs. He doesn’t say “the fathers of us Israelites” but, including them as the continuing context makes clear, Paul says “our fathers”:

I want you to know, brethren, that our fathers were all under the cloud, and all passed through the sea. . .

Implications
How does Paul’s practice affect our decisions in Messianic Judaism? Should non-Jews be allowed to make aliyahs and say, “who has chosen us from all peoples”?

On the one hand, we do not wish to deny Israel’s election as the people of God.

On the other hand, we do not wish to deny that from the nations God has called a priestly people as well.

There are practical issues on the one hand: Jewish identity could be lost if no distinction is made.

And there are practical issues on the other hand: is Messiah divided?

What drove Paul to include his non-Jewish readers as descendants of Moses and the Israelites of the Exodus generation? Was he being careless or, as usual, a genius?

Note that none of Paul’s inclusive statements go against the idea of a binary ecclesiology (there is one people of God, but it has two missions: one for the Jewish people and another for the nations). The non-Jews in Messianic Judiasm should realize they are participating in the mission of Messiah to his own Jewish people.

What if, in that context, a child of Abraham (and Moses) by faith wishes to bless the Torah and say that God has chosen us instead of intoning a modified blessing?

Thoughts?

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Postlude

A commenter raised a few counter-arguments. In order to further clarify, let me address them:

COUNTER-ARGUMENT: While Paul does say Abraham is father to those of the nations who follow Messiah, he is talking here about Moses and the Israelites of the Exodus. There is no theological basis for these to be the fathers of non-Jews.

If Abraham is also a father to those of the nations who follow Messiah, it follows that there is a connection by faith between Israel and faithful non-Jews. Paul is not being inconsistent, neither should he be read as advocating a replacement of Israel by Christianity. It is possible that the true connection is neither as simple as replacement or separation. Israel and the nations are joined by the covenantal promise and yet distinct. Paul is comfortable with these subtle distinctions and so must we become comfortable.

COUNTER-ARGUMENT: Paul’s “our fathers” meant “the father of us Jews” and was not intended to include the Corinthians.

The context argues against this. Further down he says, “these are warnings for us” and “we must not indulge in immorality.” The us and we of this argument is seen to include the Corinthians.