On the High Holy Days, Hebrew Liturgy, and Studying for the Competency Exam

If Greek is math, Hebrew is poetry.

Greek is logical, systematic, and linear.  I am therefore a sub-par Greek student.

Fluid and full of nuance, Hebrew connects us to ancient roots and calls us to worship.  I am remembering how much I love Hebrew.

I took my final exam for first semester Greek last week and immediately dusted off my Hebrew books to begin studying for the competency exam in January.  Maybe it wasn't the best planning to try to relearn two semesters of Hebrew in four months while working full time and taking three other classes at Conwell.  But as my dad likes to say, I do nothing easy.

In perfect timing, as I was just beginning to review the Hebrew alphabet after a four-year hiatus, my former student Abby, now a college girl in New York, contacted me about the observation of the High Holy days and Messianic Judaism.

"Didn't you use to go to a Messianic synagogue and how can we celebrate Yom Kippur?" she wanted to know.  So off we went to West Haven last Saturday morning to sing the liturgies and proclaim with Jewish believers that Jesus has indeed made the final atonement for our sin.

Singing in Hebrew, I learned during my college-girl days in Richmond, is the best way to learn the language.  Slowly as we recited the blessings from Yom Kippur siddur (prayer book), I found the old words and rhythms coming back to me.

Blessed are You, L-rd our G‑d and G‑d of our fathers, G‑d of Abraham, G‑d of Isaac and G‑d of Jacob, the great, mighty and awesome G‑d, exalted G‑d, who bestows bountiful kindness, who creates all things, who remembers the piety of the Patriarchs, and who, in love, brings a redeemer to their children's children, for the sake of His Name.

The Hebrew prayers are always reminding us of this God who promises a Redeemer, and in Messianic worship we rejoice that he has come in the Person of Jesus. 

Appropriately, it is the writer of the Book of Hebrews who tells us about this connection between the Jewish observance of Yom Kippur and our great once-and-for-all Redeemer:

But only the high priest entered the inner room, and that only once a year, and never without blood, which he offered for himself and for the sins the people had committed in ignorance...But when Christ came as high priest of the good things that are now already here, he went through the greater and more perfect tabernacle that is not made with human hands, that is to say, is not a part of this creation. He did not enter by means of the blood of goats and calves; but he entered the Most Holy Place once for all by his own blood, thus obtaining eternal redemption. (Hebrews 9:7, 11-12).

Reciting the blessings and praises of the holiest days in the Jewish calendar calls our attention to the reality of a risen Savior, who has "done away with sin by the sacrifice of himself" (Hebrews 9:26).

As I do, I am thankful for this poetic native tongue of the people of God, preserved for us that we might praise Him more.

Behold the Lamb of God

It's Passover, and if I weren't currently touring some of my favorite Southern cities (and people!), I would love to be attending a Seder meal somewhere tonight.

Seder meals--the true Jewish ones--are such instructive celebrations of the heart of God for His people. During the Passover meal, Jewish families impart the history of Israel's redemption to their children through the reenactment of the first Passover. Appropriately, today's Lenten readings include Exodus 12, the Passover story.

And today, on Maundy Thursday and on many other days throughout the life of the Church, Christians reenact Passover through the method given us by Jesus himself, the Lord's Supper. We read in Matthew 25 that it was on the first day of the feast that Jesus invited his twelve closest friends to observe the Passover with him. There in the upper room, Jesus breathed new meaning into the Passover wine and unleavened bread, commanding them to remember him each time they partook of this meal. Still, they did not understand that he was their final Passover Lamb, the one who would remove the barrier of sin forever.

We find in this meal the significance in John the Baptist's remark, "Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!" (John 1:29). To a first-century Jew, it would have been remarkable to think that one lamb could absolve the whole world of its sin. R. Kent Hughes points out (in a book excerpt in Jesus, Keep Me Near the Cross) that during the Passover feast, more than two hundred thousand lambs were slain in Israel. He continues:

"John mentions in [chapter 18] verse 1 that "Jesus left with his disciples and crossed the Kidron Valley." A drain ran from the temple altar down to the Kidron ravine to drain away the blood of sacrifices...So when Jesus and his band crossed the Kidron [following the Passover meal and their vigil in Gethsemane], it was red with the blood of sacrifice."

I love the lengths Jesus went to in order to help his disciples understand what was happening.

Since I'm in Birmingham, visiting my baby sister at her new home away from home, Samford University, I went to a Maundy Thursday service tonight at Christ the King Anglican Church, which meets in Beeson Divinity School's beautiful Hodges chapel. I'd never been to a Maundy Thursday service before, but it was a beautiful way to begin Easter weekend--and I loved worshiping with Evangelical Anglicans.

Dr. Lyle Dorset, a Beeson professor and the father at Christ the King, spoke of the way in which the Communion meal ushers in Christ's presence for us. Before we took the bread and wine together, we sang one of my favorite Easter/Communion songs, "Behold the Lamb of God" by Keith and Kristen Getty.

I know this post is getting long, but I have to share these lyrics with you:

Behold the Lamb who bears our sins away,

Slain for us: and we remember
The promise made that all who come in faith
Find forgiveness at the cross.

So we share in this Bread of life,
And we drink of His sacrifice,
As a sign of our bonds of peace
Around the table of the King.

The body of our Savior, Jesus Christ,
Torn for you: eat and remember
The wounds that heal, the death that brings us life,
Paid the price to make us one.

The blood that cleanses every stain of sin,
Shed for you: drink and remember
He drained death's cup that all may enter in
To receive the life of God.

And so with thankfulness and faith
We rise to respond: and to remember.
Our call to follow in the steps of Christ
As His body here on earth.

As we share in His suffering,
We proclaim: Christ will come again!
And we'll join in the feast of heaven
Around the table of the King.

Lenten Tunes

I'm taking a day off (sigh...I really love these) to recuperate after a weekend away with 30-some girls at the Revolve Tour in Hartford. It was a blast! And even more fun was the epic sleepover we all had in between sessions at a sweet family's home. I love my job!

Today I've been reading and spring cleaning and...call me a nerd, if you wish...listening to Easter tunes! That's right, I have a whole playlist of songs for Easter. We're well past the halfway point in Lent, so I figured now would be a good time to share a few of my favorites!

Since my trusty source for sharing music is no more (RIP, Lala!), you'll have to look these up on iTunes for yourself. Do it! It will get you in the Lenten spirit. (Sorry if that sounds trite. It really will get you thinking about the Cross and the Resurrection and what they mean for us.)

Many are hymns (no apologies here) redone by some of my favorites (Indelible Grace, Red Mountain, Ascend the Hill, etc.). Others are just great, timeless ballads and worship refrains. The list intentionally starts and ends with songs by Andrew Peterson--gosh, I love him. I think his music just hits at the season. (More on the meaning and significance of hosanna as we approach Palm Sunday in a little more than a week!)

Hosanna--Andrew Peterson
Lead Me to the Cross--Hillsong United
How Deep the Father's Love for Us--Philips Craig & Dean
Hallelujah! What a Savior--Ascend the Hill
Nothing but the Blood--Charlie Hall
The Stand--Hillsong United
My Jesus, I Love Thee--Red Mountain Church
God Who Saves--Caedmon's Call
Cling to the Crucified--Indelible Grace (Jeremy Casella)
Behold the Lamb (Communion Song)--Keith and Kristyn Getty
Unto You--Shane Barnard and Shane Everett
Jesus the Lord My Savior Is--Indelible Grace (Sandra McCracken)
Before the Throne of God Above--Dave Hunt
We Love You Jesus--Shane Barnard and Shane Everett
Stronger--Hillsong United
Behold the Lamb of God--Andrew Peterson

Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though he dies, and whoever lives by believing in me will never die."
John 11:25-26

On Lent and Healing

I've been feeling broken lately.

Let me explain: Several years ago, I had some traumatic horseback riding experiences that changed the sport for me. Six years out of the saddle have only aggravated the fear. So when I brought Aiden Magee here in September, I knew I had my work cut out for me. I believe that fear is decidedly NOT of God, so it seemed like a worthwhile spiritual pursuit as well as a practical one. Only, it's been much harder than I imagined.

Don't get me wrong--I looove Aiden and have so much fun with him. But there's this alarming degree of anxiety that rises up in me when things aren't going 100% perfectly with him...and especially when I even try to imagine riding him out on the trails. It's alarming because I'm not used to feeling this way--I'm mostly an I-can-tackle-anything kind of girl. I wouldn't generally consider myself an anxious person. So this fear, this lack of peace in my life, is pretty foreign. It has made me think of the Jewish idea of shalom. The Hebrew word we often translate "peace," also equates "wholeness" in Jewish culture. So a lack of peace signifies something that is broken.

My riding PTSD of sorts started with riding incidents during a season of spiritual darkness in my life, so no doubt there is a connection there. But more importantly, I think my inability to conquer this obstacle has challenged my idea of myself as someone who's competent. I want to feel confident, together, and in control--but riding taps into a place where I feel insecure.

In our can-do Western mindset, we try to devise a means to fix ourselves. We don't want to be vulnerable, needy, broken. This is the downfall of all religion--even our American brand of easy-believism Christianity.

But the reality of walking with Christ is that we must acknowledge our need. Like the Buddhists and the Muslims, we'd like to think that we can get to Him on our own. Really, His grace is the means for even our pursuit of Him. I am learning this afresh as I face my own brokenness. The nerdy head knowledge of my Reformed education is making its home more and more in my heart as I grasp my humanity.

Yesterday's One-Year Bible passage from the New Testament was Luke 7:36-50, where the "sinful" woman hears that Jesus is in town and rushes to the home where he is eating. Overcome by his presence, she begins to weep. Then kneeling before him, she washes his feet with her tears and lavishes them with perfume from an alabaster jar. I haven't been able to get her out of my head.

Jesus' response to her vulnerability is profound: "Your faith has saved you; go in peace" (Luke 8:50). "Go with my shalom, dear one. Your faith in me has made whole the broken things in you. No more fear."

What does all of this have to do with Lent, you ask? Well, a lot, I think. If it weren't for our broken humanity, what need would we have for a Sovereign who put on flesh to conquer the things that have bound ours? By his wounds, his brokenness, we are healed (Isaiah 53:5).

In this season of fasting and prayers, I'm increasingly thankful for the practical living that makes it all real in my heart.

The Lord is near. Do not be anxious for anything, but in everything by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known before God. And the peace (shalom!) of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 4:5-7

Recent Freelance Work

Even though I've taken an unintentional hiatus from blogging recently, I've still been writing! Here are the links to recent articles on myMISSIONfulfilled. As always, if you know of women in their 20s and 30s who might have interest in reading this missions-based online publication, please spread the word!

This is a How-to article about finding one's calling that I wrote for the college section of the site.

Read "Exploring Your God-Given Calling" here.

And this is a two-part missional Bible study about the Good Samaritan. I focused on the way this parable challenges our expectations about God, His Kingdom, and what He requires of His people. I'm indebted to Dr. Amy-Jill Levine, a sage professor at Vanderbilt's Divinity school and a good friend of my own beloved Jewish Studies professor, Dr. Frank Eakin, at U of R. I heard Dr. Levine when Dr. Eakin (who calls her "A.J.") invited her to speak on this parable at Richmond as part of the Weinstein lecture series. I never got to hear her speak while I lived in Nashville, but I've enjoyed her book "The Misunderstood Jew: The Church and the Scandal of the Jewish Jesus." Our theological persuasions may differ, but she is a brilliant woman who has greatly impacted my understanding of Jesus as a Palestinian Jew.

Read Part I: "More Than You Expected to Give" here.

Read Part II: "The One You'd Least Expect" here.


Thanks for reading!
Chelsea

p.s. Stay tuned for some news about contract work I did with LifeWay recently! I'm working on a way to include the spread here.

The Song in Our Hearts

If I'm being honest, I miss Richmond every day. I miss the people: roommates and sisters and friends and the sweet kids I babysat for and church family. I miss my beautiful brick-clad campus and waking up to a new display of hundreds of freshly planted flowers every few weeks. I miss Libbie and Grove, the boutiques of Carrytown, lunch at Ukrop's, and bars in the Fan. I miss the fratty, collegiate flavor of U of R, and of Richmond in general. I miss the sound of church bells ringing from Boatright Memorial Library every afternoon and evening. I miss Third Pres. I miss my college-girl schedule. And I miss observing Shabbat (or Sabbath) at Tikvat Yisrael, a Messianic synagogue I've often written about here.

So on Saturday, I spent the better part of a (very rare) day off celebrating with a Messianic congregation in West Haven, CT. Although Simchat Yisrael doesn't boast a beautiful old synagogue like Tikvat's on Grove Avenue in Richmond, and although the liturgy was slightly different and the singing in Hebrew less frequent, there was something deliciously familiar about taking time to observe the Jewish Sabbath.

One of the things I love most about Judaism, particularly Messianic Judaism, is the rabbinical way of reading Scripture. The Torah reading for each Shabbat is paired with a Haftarah reading (a selection from the wisdom literature, the Kethuvi'im, or the prophetic Scriptures, the Nevi'im), and in Messianic Judaism, with a portion of the B'rit Chadasha, or "New Covenant" (i.e. the New Testament). Always there are beautiful connections between the three portions of Scripture, but sometimes they are especially poignant. The Jewish way of reading Sabbath Scripture reminds us that this is one Story. And Jewish rabbis are well-versed in drawing connections, in figuring out how this Word God has given to His people fits together. So it is fascinating to hear a Messianic rabbi, a man who has both mastered Jewish tradition and put his trust in Yeshua (Jesus), preach. It is by nature expository, exegetical, and deeply practical.

This week's Torah portion was the "Song of the Sea" from Exodus 15:1-11. Christians will know this passage as the "Song of Moses and Miriam," which praises God for swallowing up the Egyptian armies while allowing the Hebrews to pass through the Red Sea on dry ground. For Jews, it is one of the most familiar liturgies, recited in morning prayers as well as on High Holy days. It is also, as Rabbi Tony Eaton pointed out on Saturday, the only portion of Scripture that is repeated in all three sections of the Tanak (Old Testament): the Torah (law), Kethuvi'im (wisdom), and Nevi'im (prophets). Appropriately, the Haftarah reading for Saturday was Deborah's song from Judges 5:1-9, and the B'rit Chadasha reading was the Song of the Elders found in Revelation 7:9-17.

It's not difficult to notice the similarities between the three passages. Most obviously, all three are songs of deliverance and salvation. Rabbi Eaton talked about how the Song at the Sea has been the song in Israel's heart since God's covenant with Moses at Sinai. Miriam and Moses sing "The LORD is my strength and my song, He has become my salvation" (Exodus 15:2). That word, salvation, is worth noting because as I've mentioned before, in the Hebrew it shares a root with the word Yeshua, Jesus. Deborah's song is along the same lines, even mentioning the covenant at Sinai that marked the exodus Moses and Miriam sang about. And then in the Elders' song, the theme of salvation is seen even more plainly: the great multitude, with representation from every tribe and tongue, waves palm branches and proclaims, "Salvation belongs to our God!" (Revelation 7:10). The palm branches are significant because they remind us of the palm branches waved at Jesus as people cried out Hosanna! ("Save us!") The Jewish form of that exclamation is Hoshia'na! and again, it has the same root as the Hebrew word Yeshua. And so woven throughout each of these passages, we are reminded to rejoice in the salvation that comes from the One true God.

Rabbi Eaton challenged the congregation to let the song in our hearts be that one: the song of Yeshua's salvation. What is the song in your heart today?

"To Christ the Lord let every tongue its noblest tribute bring.
When He's the subject of the song, who can refuse to sing?

...A thousand tongues could not compose a worthy song to bring
But Your love is a melody our hearts can't help but sing."
--18th century hymn-writer, Samuel Stennett

The Beauty and Offense of Eastertide

I've been studying Christology in my systematic theology class these past few weeks--what sweet timing in light of Easter! And what a sweet study it has been, of both the beauty and the offense of the Cross.

As a teenager, I once heard a speaker insinuate that we make too much of the Cross and too little of the resurrection. It is true that the Gospel would not be complete without the resurrection--if Christ did not rise on the third day, then as Nitzche said, "God is dead." Resurrection Sunday is crucial. But there is nothing offensive about the resurrection. It is the Cross of Christ alone that provided the means for our final atonement, and it is the Cross that compels us, by its horrific offense, to lay down our sin and put on the new self. As singer/songwriter Derek Webb has said, "the Gospel is both beautiful and offensive. It must be both." Without the Cross, there is no offense, and therefore, a very limited beauty.

In The Cross of Christ, British thinker and evangelist John Stott explains the development of the cross as a Christian symbol. The Jews, of course, prohibited symbols because of the mandate from the Ten Words to refrain from making images of God (Exodus 20:4-5). As the Early Church developed its doctrines and creeds, the cross emerged as the defining symbol for followers of Christ. Stott writes that the cross was the most unlikely symbol for early Christians because the image was so very offensive to the Greco-Roman world. Crucifixion, a cruel punishment devised by Rome, is perhaps the most gruesome method of execution ever employed, as its victims suffered for hours before finally suffocating to death. And to a Jew, the cross was doubly offensive. The word "cross" in Hebrew is synonomus with the word for "tree," etz. Jews would have easily called to mind Deuteronomy 21:23 "anyone who is hung on a tree is under God's curse." To a Jewish mindset, it was blasphemous to claim that God would become man, and even more so to say that the Messiah could actually die under God's curse!

As if the gruesome cruelty of crucifixion and the Jewish confusion were not enough, we read Peter's words to the men of Israel: "you handed [Jesus] over to be killed...You disowned the Holy and Righteous One and asked that a murderer be released to you. You killed the author of life" (Acts 3:12-15), and we find that we are equally guilty of betraying Christ. Our dark, twisted, deceitful hearts have killed Him. And so, this post offends its author.

But as Webb and others have noted, therein lies the beauty!

It's precisely because we are offended so deeply that Christ's atoning sacrifice is so precious. The Messiah who wept over the city of Jerusalem at the wickedness of the people, the Christ who bled and died on the cross to satisfy the wrath of God, that very same Jesus is seated at the right hand of the Father today...and He waits for us to be made co-heirs with Him for all eternity. I love the refrain from the old 19th century hymn:

Because the sinless Savior died
My sinful soul is counted free.
For God the Just was satisfied
To look on Him and Pardon me.

Behold him there, the risen Lamb
My perfect, spotless righteousness,
The great unchangeable I Am,
The King of Glory and of Grace!

As Stott writes, "As we face the cross, then, we can say to ourselves both 'I did it, my sins sent him there.'" (That's the offense.) Stott continues: "and 'he did it, his love took him there.'" (That's the beauty.) May we rejoice in the devastating offense and the sweet beauty of the Cross this Easter.

You are worthy to take the scroll and to open the seals because you were slain, and with your blood you purchased men for God from every tribe and language and people and nation...
Revelation 5:9

Festival of Lights: Thoughts on Hanukkah

Last night the sun's setting marked the beginning of Hanukkah. Since there is some confusion about the holiday in Christian circles, I thought I would try to shed some light (pardon the shamelessly cheesy pun!) on the festival from my limited knowledge and experience.

When I talk with Christian friends about Jewish culture, many want to know, "Is Hanukkah a Biblical holiday?" The answer is no, the festival did not originate with the Biblical cannon; its origins were recorded in the apocrypha in the Book of the Maccabees during what is called the inter-testimental period (meaning it occurred during the roughly 200 year lapse between the Old and New Testaments). Even so, for the Jews it is an important celebration of God's enduring faithfulness to His people. And as such, it can provide some helpful wisdom and encouragement for the Church.

The eight-day festival commemorates God's deliverance of his people from the hand of the Seleucids, the Syrian-Greek army that controlled much of the known world in the second century, B.C.E. ( or A.D.). Antiocus IV Epiphanes was the Seleucids' leader, and he sought to Hellenize the world and to make Palestine a model Greek community. He overtook the temple, turning it into a site of pagan worship, and made all Jewish activity punishable by death.

In 167 B.C.E., a Jewish priest named Mattathias refused to worship the pagan gods and killed the man who stepped forward to offer a sacrifice in his place. He fled to the wilderness with his five sons, and in 168, his son Judah Maccabee led a revolt against the Seleucid army. Miraculously, they prevailed. When the Maccabean army went into the Temple, they found only enough ritually pure oil to light the Temple's menorah for one night. But the oil burned for eight nights, long enough for new oil to be cleansed.

Each day of the Hanukkah observance, Jews offer thanks for God's provision in these miracles by reciting the Hallel, a prayer comprising Psalms 113-117. The Hebrew word Hallel comes from the phrase hallelujah, or, "praise ye Yahweh." Hallel simply means "praise," so the five Psalms collectively known as the Hallel are exclamations of adoration. Jews recite the Hallel on Hanukkah and at Passover--both festivals of freedom--to thank God for His past kindness and to praise Him with confidence for future blessings. In other words, it is a joyful expression of His hesed or "covenant faithfulness."

The joyful words "Not to us, O LORD, not to us, but to your name be the glory because of your love and your faithfulness" resonate from within the walls of Jewish homes and synagogues on the eight days of Hanukkah, which occurs during winter solstice, the darkest time of the year. Jews today used the servant candle in the middle of the menorah to light one candle the first night, two the second night, and so on until all of the candles are lit on the eighth night. The lighting of the menorah symbolizes the darkness that was dispelled by the two miracles of Hanukkah.

As we celebrate the Christmas season, let us rejoice that the darkness has been bathed in light once and for all in the greatest of God's miracles--the Incarnation of His very Son!

"I have come into the world as light so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness."

John 12:46

Simchat Torah

Voices lifted in song, they take turns clutching the Torah scrolls to their chests as they dance through the aisles of the synagogue. Spinning, hopping on one foot and then the other. Eyes closed. Spinning, spinning.

A year ago, I spent my first Shabbat with the congregation Tikvat Yisrael in Richmond on Simchat Torah, the most joyful day of the Jewish liturgical calendar, and now my favorite Jewish holiday. I arrived a few minutes late to the 10 o'clock service (pretty early for a college-girl) and was a bit bewildered by the scene unfolding around me. It only took a moment, however, for me to be utterly captivated.

Simchat Torah comes on the heals of Sukkot, the festival in which Jews remember God's provision for them in the desert (see previous post). Of course, the pinnacle of their time in the desert was the meeting at Mt. Sinai, where God imparted His covenant and His Word. The tradition surrounding Simchat Torah, or "the Joy of the Torah," gives voice to a topic I've written about a lot recently: God's revelation. For Jews, and especially for our Jewish brothers and sisters in Christ, the revelation of God is always cause for celebration and joy.

As I took everything in, one of the ushers approached me to explain that this celebration was part of the centuries old tradition of thanking God for the gift of His Word. He went on to say that because the Greek word Logos from John 1:1 can be translated Torah in Hebrew, the holiday takes on a special significance for Jews who embrace Jesus as Messiah. And then he said something I'll never forget. With a joy that penetrated to the depths of my heart, this dear man exclaimed, "Yeshua has become our Torah! The Torah dwells among us!"

As the Torah scrolls danced by my pew, those around me lovingly touched the scrolls and then kissed their hands (a practice that is not reserved solely for this holiday, but that occurs every Shabbat). I followed suit, completely swept up in the worship of the God who speaks powerfully to His people, the God who would lower Himself to dwell among us. As they danced we sang:

Hineh ha Torah!
Hineh Yeshua!
Hineh ha Torah!
Hineh Hu ba!

translation: "Behold the Torah! Behold Jesus! Behold the Torah! Behold He comes!"

Both the tradtion and the song are beautiful reminders that God has fulfilled His promise in Jeremiah 31:33 where He speaks through the prophet: "'This is the covenant I will make with the house of Israel at that time' declares the Lord. "I will put my law in their minds and write it on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people." The word "law" here is the word Torah in Hebrew. So when Jesus proclaims that He has not come to abolish the law but to fulfill it (Matthew 5:17), He is saying that He is the one who will enact the New Covenant in which the law will be on the hearts of God's people. In Jewish understanding, as I have noted before, the lev, or "heart" is the seat of action and emotion. The implication, of course, is that if God's law is written on your lev, then everything you do will be influenced by Him. Messianic Jews recognize that the Torah is written on their leviym (hearts) in the person of Yeshua!

In non-Messianic synagogues, the words that are sung obviously do not revel in the provision of Jesus. Rather, the worshipers pray Ana Adonai, hoshia na, which translates "Oh Lord, save us." What's interesting about this prayer relates again to the Hebrew: the volative verb hoshia stems from the root yeshua, meaning "salvation." This is the Jewish name for Jesus. So even as they celebrate God's gift of the Torah removed from the One who has fullfilled it, non-Messianic Jews affirm their need for God's saving grace.

This year, Tikvat celebrated Simchat Torah on Wednesday, the actual day that culminates Sukkot. Needless to say, I was disappointed when I arrived at Tikvat this past Saturday morning, expecting to sing Hineh ha Torah. I had been thrilled to find that Homecoming weekend coincided with the day I thought my Messianic friends would celebrate the holiday that marks my first anniversary of worshiping with them. Nevertheless, my time with them was sweet as the scrolls were taken from the ark and danced around the room, and as we praised the God who has become our Torah.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God...And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.
John 1:1, 14

Sukkot

Today is the last day of the Jewish Festival of Tabernacles, or Sukkot, and that means my favorite Jewish holiday, Simchat Torah, is on the horizon. As I've waited for Wednesday, and more importantly, as I wait to celebrate Wednesday's significance at Tikvat Yisrael in Richmond this Saturday, it dawned on me that Sukkot has a special significance to me this year.

The Jewish festival of booths, as it is often translated, is a week for celebrating God's provision in the desert. Jewish families build a "booth" or a small hut in the backyard to resemble the temporary homes inhabited by the Israelites as they were lead by God's Spirit in the pillar of cloud. The family then eats all of its meals picnic-style in the booth for the duration of the festival. Children are encouraged to line the sukkah with pictures, and sometimes the family even sleeps in it. As Lauren Winner has remarked, "It is while sitting in the sukkah that you learn lessons about dependence on God, that even the walls of your brick house are flimsy."

As I thought about Sukkot and lessons of dependence, I recalled my Jewish studies professor telling us that one rabbi called the first sukkah "clouds of glory." I am really struck by that language as I continue to apply the principle of the pillar of cloud day-to-day. The walls of our lives may seem oh-so-flimsy in times of transition or uncertainty, and the desert is cruel. But we can trust in the God who always provides, who continues to speak to us about where we're headed and the plans that He has for us. As we anticipate Simchat Torah (literally, "the joy of the Word," which I'll discuss when I return from Richmond), let us give thanks to the God who provides and who speaks!

"After leaving Sukkoth they camped at Etham on the edge of the desert. By day the LORD went ahead of them in a pillar of cloud to guide them on their way and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light, so that they could travel by day or night."
Exodus 13:19-21

Note: I love what A.W. Tozer has said about the observance of special days in Jewish culture: "By innumerable distinctions God taught Israel the difference between holy and unholy. there were holy days, holy vessels, holy garments. There were washings, sacrifices, offerings of many kinds. By these means, Israel learned that God is holy. It was this that He was teaching them, not the holiness of things or places. The holiness of Yahweh was the lesson they must learn." So as we reflect on these "holy" days, we must also remember that it is a Holy God we are worshiping, not a day or a ritual.

HaShem

One of the most beautiful things to me in studying Jewish culture and the Hebrew language has been learning the earliest names for God. Because I believe the meanings of these names are foundational to our understanding of God's nature, I'd like to share what I've learned with you. Most of this information comes from my Jewish studies professor, Dr. Frank Eakin, at the University of Richmond. He likely would not agree with much of what I've applied to these facts because of our differences in faith and theology, but I am indebted to this wise man, nevertheless!

The old Shakespearean "a rose by any other name" adage, would not have made sense in a Hebrew context. The Hebrew/Jewish people were pretty infatuated with names. I was just pointing this out in some youth curriculum I wrote for a friend's church. I shared with these students that, in Bible times, parents often waited to name their child until his or her personality was clear! In some cases, God would tell the family what to name a child (Isaac, Samson, John the Baptist, and Jesus all spring to mind). And so we see that names were of critical importance and had great meaning.

This principle is clear, too, in stories of spiritual transformation: Abram and Sarai became Abraham and Sarah. Jacob (which means "trickster") became Israel (meaning, "one who struggles with God") after he wrestled with God in the night. And this name, Israel, was passed on to the Hebrew people when God enacted His covenant with them, the implication being that although they would continue to struggle with Him, He would uphold His covenant faithfulness.

It should come as no surprise, then, that the Hebrew names for God are rich in meaning. The first name for God used in Hebrew scripture is found in Genesis 1:1, "In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth." The word used is elohim, which is a plural word derived from other Near Eastern cultures and generally meaning "gods." Surprisingly, in the Tanak, it is used singularly. Here it is linked to the singular verb bara, meaning "he created." Bara is seldom used in scripture and is only attributed to God, so we know that the word elohim is being used singularly to speak of ONE God. Scholars have noted that the name probably refers to the "muchness of God." I love that! He is one, but He is much. Much, much more than we can ever comprehend, much in the sense that He is worthy of our praise. The fascinating thing is that, when we think about this name through the lens of Jesus, we can see that "the muchness of God" also refers to the Trinity. So right there, in the very first words of the Biblical text, we know that Jesus is one with the Father and the Spirit. (This idea is further affirmed in God's saying, "Let us..." throughout the story of creation. Either He is schizophrenic, or He is talking to Someone.)

The next crucial name in the Biblical narrative is found in Exodus 3:14, when God tells Moses "I AM who I AM...this is what you are to say to the Israelites, 'I AM has sent me to you.'" Further significance of the name "I AM" is found in the Exodus account of God's covenant with the Hebrews at Mt. Sinai (see Exodus 19-20). In Near Eastern culture, there were two types of covenant: 1.) a parity covenant, or one between two equals, and 2.) a suzerainty covenant, or one initiated by a king or army on behalf of a lesser power. The suzerain would enact a covenant based on the premise that the lesser power would uphold certain conditions. But at Sinai, God turns the Hebrew covenant understanding upside down: He promises to uphold His covenant with them regardless of adherence to the Law (we call this attribute God's chesed, or, "covenant fidelity"). It is in this spirit that He calls Himself "I AM," YHWH in Hebrew.

Scholars are unsure how the name for "I AM" was pronounced, but they have established that it sounded something like Yahweh (Jehovah was a mistranslation by early Germanic scholars). The reason for this uncertainty is that the Israelites were not allowed to say God's covenant name. Even the High Priest was only permitted to utter the sacred name once a year--on Yom Kippur, or, the Day of Atonement, which occurs next Thursday--in the Most Holy Place! Instead, the Israelites referred to God as HaShem, or "The Name." In other cases, they used the more general title adonai, meaning "my Lord."

Yahweh comes from the Hebrew verb, yihiy, or "I will be." (A more accurate translation of Exodus 3:14 would be "I Will Be as I Will Be."") So God is literally telling His people that, at the crux of His nature, He is completely reliable, completely faithful, the same forever. Above all, He is consistent, even when His people are utterly inconsistent.

Whenever you see the word LORD (written in all caps) in the Old testament, the author is using the sacred name, YHWH. (In other words, you could translate "the LORD, God" to mean "YHWH, God.") I noted this fact in the Bible study I recently wrote and asked students why they thought the New Testament writers no longer used this construction. I directed them to Matthew 27:51 and Hebrew 1:1-9 for help. When Jesus died on the cross, the temple veil was torn in two, a literal reminder that all who are in Christ now have access to God.

Because there is no more Most Holy Place, and because the temple was destroyed by Roman soldiers in 70 A.D., the Jews no longer have a place to say HaShem. As they observe these High Holy Days and as they approach Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, there is a degree of uncertainty about the individual's standing with God. There is no longer a place to make the sin offering, and so the Jews wait in hope that they have achieved right standing with God through their works and repentance and not through blood atonement, as God has always required. But because of the work done on the Cross, atonement is finished once and for all. We need not be afraid to utter His name!

"Those who know your name will trust in you, for you LORD have never forsaken those who seek you." --Psalm 9:10