Friday's Child in the Family of God

Friday's child is loving and giving...

-from an old nursery rhyme

I keep forgetting it's Good Friday, the day the Christian church commemorates as the day Jesus died. For the past several days, I've been trying to work up some sort of feeling for this coming Easter Sunday. I've been reading a few Christian and Messianic blogs and it seems as if folks are just "on fire" for the coming of Easter and the celebration of the resurrection.

I'm not "feeling" it.

Actually, I've never had a strong emotional response to Easter. My parents took me to church when I was a young teen, but no one ever got around to asking me if I believed in Jesus or what it all meant to me. Being a "good kid", I did what my parents told me to do (for the most part) which included going to church. But I didn't believe. Christmas was a time when there was loot under a tree. I don't like hard boiled eggs or milk chocolate, so Easter didn't even have that much appeal.

When I was old enough, I told my parents I wasn't going to church anymore. My father wasn't a believer at the time (he has since found faith) so he didn't say much. I could tell my mother was hurt, but she accepted my decision.

I didn't come to faith in Jesus (Yeshua) until my early 40s. That was about 15 years ago or so. Even with that, I only worshiped in a traditional church setting for a few years before shifting into a "Messianic" context. I never developed an emotional attachment to the Christian holidays as Christian holidays. I never learned to love Christmas because of the birth of Jesus and I never acquired an adoration of Easter because of the resurrection.

Apparently, my perspective is something of an oddity in Messianic circles (it's a foregone conclusion that it's outright strange from a Christian point of view) if the Messiah Connection blog is any indication. If you've been reading my blog this week, you'll know that of late, I've also been questioning a Gentile Christian's (me) role in participating in the Passover, at least as a Christian rite, as opposed to the traditional Jewish festival.

But if I don't feel connected to Easter and Passover is becoming a question mark, where does that leave me?

I am talking to you Gentiles. Inasmuch as I am the apostle to the Gentiles, I take pride in my ministry in the hope that I may somehow arouse my own people to envy and save some of them...If some of the branches have been broken off, and you, though a wild olive shoot, have been grafted in among the others and now share in the nourishing sap from the olive root, do not consider yourself to be superior to those other branches. If you do, consider this: You do not support the root, but the root supports you. You will say then, “Branches were broken off so that I could be grafted in.” Granted. But they were broken off because of unbelief, and you stand by faith. Do not be arrogant, but tremble. For if God did not spare the natural branches, he will not spare you either. -Romans 11:13-14,17-21

We Gentiles are "grafted in" to the natural root. Jesus said that he was the vine (natural root) and we (Gentiles, in my case) are the (grafted in) branches (John 15:5), co-existing, so to speak, on the same vine as the natural branches. But we're not the same...I'm not the same.

Many years ago, I worked in social services and part of my job was "special needs adoptions". Among other things, that means, finding adoptive homes for older children who have been removed from their birth families by the court (usually due to some unrepairable parental problem that resulted in child abuse). One of the things that child psychologists and other, similar professionals know about kids, is that they bond with their parents really, really early in life and once that do, that's it. No matter who those parents are or what they've done, those kids are bonded. If kids miss that special window for bonding because no "parental object" is available, they're "unbonded" forever, which usually results in all sorts of psychological and behavioral problems. Finding them a "good home" after the bonding window is closed doesn't open it again...ever.

Kids who are adopted into families at an older age almost always struggle with issues of identity and belonging. Even well into adulthood, when these "adoptees" have married and are raising their own families, many of them still question if they really have a family, if they really belong, and if they were ever really loved by anyone.

I was "adopted" into the "family of God" at an older age. I wonder if I failed to bond? Could that be the reason that, as Easter approaches and even the old city of Jerusalem is alive with Good Friday observances, I feel as emotionally flat as a piece of matzah?

My friend Gene Shlomovich wrote a blog today that said something very telling about this point, quoting his Muslim friend "Ahmed":

I was thinking Israel is really taking our lands, killing Palestinians, [they are] war criminals, etc… When I grew up I wanted to see what is the “Jew”, what kind of religion. They (Arab propaganda) make it like hell. Oh no, I want see. I read some books. I found out it is so close to our way of worshiping, it is so close, very very very close, and too far away from Christians! And then I wanted to know about land issues. I say now: oh yeah, we got 50 Arab countries, they (Jews) got none, just that one. So let them live in peace and give them more!

I’m telling you - a Jew is way too far from Christianity! And makes me feel sad of how much Jews and Muslims are far from each other nowadays and how close Christians are to Jews. Makes me enjoy this relationship.

In his missive, Gene referred to Ahmed and himself as cousins because of their common ancestor Abraham and the large number of similarities between Muslim and Jewish religious practice and perception...much closer than the resemblance between Judaism and Christianity. Jewish Israeli author Yossi Halevi made the exact observation in his book At the Entrance to the Garden of Eden when he undertook a spiritual journey to find "connectedness" with Christians and Muslims in the Holy Land.

This probably wasn't Gene's intent, but the wonderful story he told about his conversation with Ahmed continued to cement my impression that the gulf between God's natural root and those of us who have been grafted in is much wider than we'd like to admit. During the week of Unleavened Bread, during Holy Week, on Good Friday, with both Erev Shabbat and Easter Sunday waiting in the wings, while the world of Christians and Jews celebrate an unquestioned sense of belonging, I'm still not sure where in all this I fit in. Is it possible to be a square peg in a universe where God created only round holes?

A few days ago, my 2 year old grandson Landon had a fever that spiked at 104 degrees F. He's still sick and has both an upper respiratory infection and a virus. He's doing better, but his Mom's come down with it now. My wife and I took Landon in last night to give his parents a break. He's still himself, but the poor little guy isn't feeling well.

As I was getting ready for work this morning, my wife asked me to hold him for a bit. He reached out to me and as I took him in my arms, he folded quite comfortably onto my shoulder and started to doze. In that moment, I knew I belonged to someone, at least for that tiny march of minutes. A two-year old little boy is wonderfully accepting and once he loves you, he loves you unconditionally.

While driving to work this morning, I wondered if perhaps those few, sweet minutes of holding my grandson would be the only worthwhile thing I'd end up doing today?

Today is Good Friday and I don't feel anything about it. What bothers me is that I think I should feel something. But I don't.

The poem I quoted from above was first published in 1838 and is meant to be a "fortune-telling" song which predicts a child's character based on the day of the week he or she was born. I used "Friday's child" because it's Good Friday. Also, I was born on a Friday. But if Friday's child is "loving and giving", Wednesday's child is "full of woe" and Thursday's child "has far to go".

The road is long and seen from the "rest stop" of Good Friday, I have far to go.

A Shroud for the Dead

The Gemara concludes that even though shrouds for the dead are exempt from the mitzvah of tzitzis, when a body is prepared for burial we do wrap a garment with tzitzis around the body. The idea is based upon the verse in Mishlei (17:5) which states “One who mocks a pauper insults his Maker.” The term “pauper” refers to a person who has died and is therefore no longer obligated in mitzvos. We are not allowed to mock his inability to perform mitzvos, so we dress him with tzitzis.
"Tzitzis on the garments of the dead"
Menachos 41
Daf Yomi Digest

For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures...
-1 Corinthians 15:3-4

Jesus is dead. At least he's dead if this is just after the Passover. Since the timing of when he was executed varies from one Gospel version to the next, we aren't absolutely sure what "three days" means in terms of hours and minutes, or just how long the Master spent entombed as a corpse. But we know he died.

We also know that, as an observant Jew, he would have obeyed the commandment to wear tzitzit or "fringes" on the four corners of his garments (Deuteronomy 22:12). We see an example in the Gospels (Matthew 9:20-22; Mark 5:25-34; Luke 8:43-47) that he wore fringes or tzitzit. It would have been unusual and even a little bizarre for a Jewish Rabbi and Prophet not to have obeyed the commandment of tzitzit as a representation of his obligation to the Torah.

And then he died. Another quote from the Daf:

Nevertheless, Shmuel agrees that if someone made burial shrouds for himself there is no obligation to place tzitzis on it.

While there's no obligation for the dead to be dressed in garments with tzitzit attached because a dead person cannot obey the commandments, as the earlier quote citing the Gemara states, we do not mock the dead. When Jesus was prepared for burial, his disciples, perhaps the women or even Joseph and Nicodemus, would have taken care of this important detail to honor and respect the Master. They loved him. They would not neglect him in this.

Later, Joseph of Arimathea asked Pilate for the body of Jesus. Now Joseph was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly because he feared the Jewish leaders. With Pilate’s permission, he came and took the body away. He was accompanied by Nicodemus, the man who earlier had visited Jesus at night. Nicodemus brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about seventy-five pounds. Taking Jesus’ body, the two of them wrapped it, with the spices, in strips of linen. This was in accordance with Jewish burial customs. -John 19:38-40

Yet the dead cannot praise God and they cannot obey Him.

Among the dead no one proclaims your name. Who praises you from the grave? -Psalm 6:5

It is not the dead who praise the LORD, those who go down to the place of silence... -115:17

Who provided the garments for burial? Who offered the tzitzit to the Master's body? He was stripped when beaten, though his clothing was returned (Matthew 27:27-31), but the Roman soldiers removed his clothes when he was placed on the cross and cast lots for his garments (Matthew 27:35). When he died, he died almost naked.

But while the Romans and the faithless mocked the dying Jesus, those who loved him suffered in tears and when he died, they did not mock him by refusing to attach tzitzit to his garments as they prepared a shroud for the dead.

I know I'm extrapolating from later Rabbinic rulings to earlier practices, but in my imagination and in my heart, I do not mock the dead. As the Children of Israel died in the desert wearing tzitzit, and as Jews are commanded to wear tzitzit on their four-cornered garments, I can see the Master dressed for burial this way.

Shulchan Aruch (Y.D. 351:2) rules that we bury the dead with tzitzis, but Rema adds that the tzitzis should be invalid. Our custom is to wrap the dead in a tallis, but to cut the tzitzis from one of the corners.

In reading the Gospels, we jump almost immediately from the burial to the resurrection but I'm asking you to pause. Don't go on the the next paragraph or the next page yet. Stop and consider. In Christianity, we jump to Easter in a mad rush, eager to celebrate the risen Lord, running immediately from the ugly, bloody death to the party commemorating his life, but stop. Think about it. Consider the day after he died. Break a piece of dry matzah and put it in your mouth. It's almost tasteless. It's like death. It's like his body. Think about what the Passover and unleavened bread is trying to tell you. Ponder what the Master was saying when he compared his body to the bread and asked you to think of him when you eat it. Taste the dry, brittle bitterness of grief; let the salt water in which we dip our karpas during the Seder be tears.

He died. He was buried. Right now, immediately after the Passover feast, he is buried. We honor him and prepare his body, though our hearts are shattered within us. We apply myrrh and aloes to his broken and torn body and wrap him in fresh, clean linens, struggling between slowly and reverently attending the Master and the urgency to finish before the Sabbath. On his robes we make sure that the tzitzit are attached. Little do we know that they should not be "invalid" as Rema will later rule. In three days time, the Master will live again.

The dead do not honor and praise God. A corpse does not obey the commandments and perform the mitzvot. That is for the living. Today, Jesus is dead. Tomorrow, after the Sabbath, he lives again.

Praise God.

The road is long and often, we travel in the dark.

The Oddly Scheduled Passover

“This is a day you are to commemorate; for the generations to come you shall celebrate it as a festival to the LORD—a lasting ordinance. For seven days you are to eat bread made without yeast. On the first day remove the yeast from your houses, for whoever eats anything with yeast in it from the first day through the seventh must be cut off from Israel. On the first day hold a sacred assembly, and another one on the seventh day. Do no work at all on these days, except to prepare food for everyone to eat; that is all you may do. -Exodus 12:14-16

On the first day of the Festival of Unleavened Bread, when it was customary to sacrifice the Passover lamb, Jesus’ disciples asked him, “Where do you want us to go and make preparations for you to eat the Passover?”

So he sent two of his disciples, telling them, “Go into the city, and a man carrying a jar of water will meet you. Follow him. Say to the owner of the house he enters, ‘The Teacher asks: Where is my guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?’ He will show you a large room upstairs, furnished and ready. Make preparations for us there.”

The disciples left, went into the city and found things just as Jesus had told them. So they prepared the Passover. -Mark 14:12-16

I hadn't planned to blog about Passover. This time of year in the Jewish and Messianic blogospheres, you'll find an abundant amount of material on the subject, so I thought whatever I chose to contribute would be redundant. Then a couple of things happened.

Last Sunday, my son David asked if we (as a family) were going to have a Seder. Sadly, we don't always have one. I attend the community Seder at my congregation and my wife usually attends the Chabad Seder. Schedules being what they are, we don't always have the "bandwidth" to organize and conduct a private home Seder as well. David hasn't been to a Seder in a number of years and particularly since he joined the Marines and then got married (he was honorably discharged about eight months ago), and his wife and son have never experienced a Seder. Seizing the opportunity, I asked my wife if we could have a family Seder this year and yesterday evening, I got my answer.

As I was getting ready to leave home to teach my class, my wife and daughter pulled into the garage and unloaded supplies of wine and matzah (kosher for Passover, of course). As a husband and father, I'm often "out of the loop" as to what the family is planning so I asked when we would be having our Seder.

Sunday.

What?

As most of you reading this know, this year, Passover officially begins at sundown on Monday, April 18th. My wife just told me we'd be having our Seder exactly 24 hours early.

There's a practical reason for this. We usually have the kids (and my grandson) over for a family dinner every Sunday evening. It's something we all look forward to, and we get to enjoy some good food and good company, and it's a fine way to end the weekend. Sunday evening fits into everyone's schedule. So my wife's logic told her that it would be a good time to have our family Seder.

It bothers me.

OK, despite the fact that some people might think I have a few goofy theological ideas, I'm something of a traditionalist. I like attending Seders during the week of Unleavened Bread. I believe it is what God intended.

At this juncture, you may well ask yourself what I'm worked up about since, not being Jewish, the various commandments regarding Passover observance don't specifically apply to me. To answer, I've been attending Passover Seders for decades, long before I became religious. I've had Jewish friends all of my adult life and have always appreciated and enjoyed being invited to their Seders. There's something about the Haggadah and the essence of the Seder that weaves its way into the fabric of my being. Also, while I may not be commanded to observe the Passover, I'm married to a Jewish woman who is, I have Jewish children who are, and although a Goy, I'm head of a family where all of the "nuclear" members are Jewish. We should celebrate the Passover "on time". Beyond all of that, I'm a Gentile disciple of the Jewish Messiah. The Jewish Messiah observed the Passover each year. Some say his last meal was a Passover Seder.

But my family will be observing the Passover a day early. Has this ever happened before?

Maybe.

Depending on which Gospel you read, Jesus (Yeshua) and his inner circle had their Passover Seder either on the first day of Passover after sundown or the day before. It's impossible to resolve the differences between the different Gospel versions (to see what I mean, read Derek Leman's blog posts: Passover, Last Supper, Crucifixion: 2011 Notes, Part 1 and Part 2).

If you read Mark's version (Mark 14:12-26), then Jesus and his disciples conducted their Seder on the 14th day of the month of Nissan (which began at Sundown in the traditional and religious way of counting days in Judaism). In this version, the sacrifices of the Passover lambs at the Holy Temple in Jerusalem wouldn't occur until after the following sunrise and would be happening at the same time that Jesus was slowly and painfully dying on the cross. That's Mark's version, at least as rendered by D. Thomas Lancaster at First Fruits of Zion (FFOZ). You'll understand what I mean by that last comment in a moment.

Every Passover, at my congregation's community Passover Seder, I read part of the chapter "One Long Day" from Lancaster's book King of the Jews. It recounts in exquisite detail, the day Jesus died, based on Mark's Gospel. It is a heartrending rendition, juxtaposing the trial, torture, crucifixion, and death of the Jewish Messiah against the virtually endless stream of Jews offering a vast sea of Lambs as sacrifices at the Temple, in accordance with the commandments. As thousands upon thousands of Passover lambs were bleeding and dying at the hands of the Temple Priests, the Lamb of God was bleeding and breathing his last at the hands of a faithless humanity.

There isn't a dry eye in the house by the time I'm finished reciting the chapter.

There are many scholarly opinions about why the timing of the "Last Supper" and the crucifixion don't line up in the Gospels, but I'm not here to address, let alone "solve" this mystery. However, to resolve my own "timing" conflict, I'm choosing to consider my family's early Passover Seder as a connection to Mark's telling of the Messiah's "Haggadah"; the speaking and relating of the Messiah's journey and the Passover, if you will, that results from his suffering, death, and resurrection; the Passover that can be accessed by all human beings if we believe and declare God's Lamb as Lord.

When I lead my family's Passover Seder at the start of the 14th of Nissan, I will have Jesus on my mind. One justification for Jesus and his disciples having their Seder a day early was that he desired anxiously to celebrate the Passover with them and knew that, the next day, he wouldn't be consuming the Lamb, he would be "consumed" as the Lamb. Next Sunday evening, during our telling of the Passover, I will choose to accept for that day, how Mark told of the Messiah's last Seder. I will envision breaking the matzah with him, drinking wine with him, and when I eat the maror and charoset, I will experience the bitterness of his suffering and death, and the sweetness of his resurrection,and the life we all have in him.

Chag Pesach Sameach. Happy Passover.

The road is long and often, we travel in the dark.

Righteous Atonement

The Christian belief that Jesus Christ is God incarnate has been around so long that many people familiar with Christianity do not realize just how astonishing such a claim was and still is. Jesus was very much a real human being. He grew up in a dusty village as the son of a carpenter. He lived during a time of political turmoil for his people. He experienced the full range of human emotions, from unbridled joy to deep sorrow. He had friends and enemies. He perspired and got tired; he slept and awoke; he got hungry and thirsty; he bled and he died. Indeed, by some measures, he was not a particularly remarkable man. He led no army, held no political office, wrote no books, had no wife or children, left no estate, and never traveled even a hundred miles from his home. Yet billions of people during the past two millennia all over the world have worshiped him as their Lord and their God. How did that happen?

from Chapter 1: All Glory, Laud, and Honor
Putting Jesus in His Place: The Case for the Deity of Christ

I've recently been exploring the topic of Christianity's origin, how we got the Bible we have today, and particularly the issue of Christ's deity (or lack thereof). I've already read books by New Testament scholar Bart Ehrman and Bible scholar Maurice Casey and I'm about 100 pages into Bowman's and Komoszewski's book. I'll write a full review when I'm finished, but I'll tell you up front that the book admits to making some fairly sweeping assumptions, such as the belief that the Bible we have today is correct in every aspect and 100% reliable as a source of theological and historic information (which is in conflict with a number of other NT scholars, including the aforementioned Ehrman and Casey).

I wasn't going to mention the Bowman and Komoszewski book, but I read the following last Shabbat and it got me thinking.

Rav Aharon Kotler, zt”l, explains how, when Hashem treats his tzaddikim with strict justice, He is feared and exalted and praised. “Our sages teach that—like Yom Kippur—the death of the righteous atones for sins. It follows that just as Yom Kippur does not atone without teshuvah, the same is true regarding the death of tzaddikim. But where do we find that one does teshuvah when tzaddikim die?

“The answer can be found on Zevachim 115. There we find that the verse ' — Hashem is Awesome from Your Mikdash,’ can be read instead as — from Your holy ones. The gemara learns from this that when Hashem punishes tzaddikim, He is feared, exalted, and praised. This means that people are catalyzed into doing teshuvah when Hashem’s stern justice is manifest in the world.

“Just as during the ten days of teshuvah the verse states '— Seek Hashem when He is to be found,’ when tzaddikim leave the world and are eulogized properly, this inspires people to do teshuvah as well. It is easier to do teshuvah during aseres yemei teshuvah precisely because during this time middas hadin (justice) is revealed in the world. When tzaddikim pass away, the eulogies cause distress and easily arouse us to teshuvah. This time is auspicious from on high and it is easier to do teshuvah than at other times.

“This explains why a heavenly echo proclaimed that all who had attended Rebbi’s funeral merited olam haba. They all merited olam haba since during that holy time they all became complete ba’alei teshuvah!

From Daf Yomi Digest
Shabbos, March 5, 2011
Zevachim 115
Stories off the Daf
Seek Hashem When He is to be found

Interestingly enough, Casey's book referenced this concept as well and it's not something you hear in Christian circles. I started wondering, if it's so obvious that Jesus Christ, the Jewish Messiah, must be literally God in order to fulfill the role of Messiah, why don't we see this concept more clearly in the Tanakh (Old Testament) or Talmud? In fact, Judaism is very specific that the Messiah will not be God and, for the most part, will be an ordinary human being.

I suppose that you could argue that, after the dramatic schism between Gentile Christianity and Judaism in the first few centuries of the Common Era, both movements amended their teachings and authoritative documents to make sure that both faiths appeared as unalike as possible, despite the Jewish origins of Christianity. That would mean, from a Jewish point of view, that anything in their authoritative documentation that might even hint at the Messiah being a Deity would be deleted or re-interpreted to make sure that Godhood was not part of the Messiah's resume.

On the other hand, what if it never was? What if the reason the Jewish people in modern times don't believe the Messiah will be God is because Jews never expected him to be God? What does that mean about the Messiah and his death? Could the crucifixion of Christ still have any meaning in the eyes of a Jew?

Given the reference I quoted from Zevachim 115, I'd have to say "yes". I'm not making a final decision on the matter of Yeshua's deity just yet, but I would like to suggest that the Messiah could be a unique and even a supernatural being, without absolutely having to share co-identity with God the Father.

Jesus answered, ‘If I glorify myself, my glory is nothing. It is my Father who glorifies me, he of whom you say, “He is our God”, though you do not know him. But I know him; if I were to say that I do not know him, I would be a liar like you. But I do know him and I keep his word. Your ancestor Abraham rejoiced that he would see my day; he saw it and was glad.’ Then the Jews said to him, ‘You are not yet fifty years old, and have you seen Abraham?’ Jesus said to them, ‘Very truly, I tell you, before Abraham was, I am.’ So they picked up stones to throw at him, but Jesus hid himself and went out of the temple. -John 8:54-59

Without getting into the issues some NT scholars have with John's Gospel, I want to take a look at what Jesus said, how his audience interpreted his statement, and why they were ready to stone him to death. Jesus made a claim that he was God, not necessarily that he was the Messiah. Claiming that you're literally God, to a group of people as strongly monotheistic as the Jewish people, especially in that place and at that time, was an outrageous thing to do. If Jesus had claimed to be the Messiah, they might have believed him, disbelieved him, ignored him, or laughed at him, but the Jews listening to him wouldn't have tried to kill him. "Messiahs" have come and gone throughout Jewish history, and one more man claiming to be the (or a) Messiah, particularly in Roman-occupied Israel, wouldn't seem too unusual.

On the other hand, an itinerant carpenter turned Prophet, claiming to literally be God, was not only unique, it was a heinous blasphemy which carried the death penalty. If Jesus had meant to tell the crowd that he was the Messiah (and even that seems odd, given how he warned Peter not to tell anyone about it in Mark 8:29-30), he most likely would have used scripture and metaphor that the Jews around him would have associated with the Messiah, rather than outright claiming equality with God.

I'm saying all of this because the Jews in Yeshua's day (as well as today), didn't expect the Messiah to be God and likely didn't interpret the Master's (supposed) claim to be God to be equal to a claim of being the Messiah. In Christianity, we miss this because the belief in Jesus's deity is so ingrained in the church, that we don't consider how such claims would have been received within the lived context of Christ in the early 1st Century. The Messiah would be expected, but God in living flesh, not so much.

We do see, based on Zevachim 115 though, that the death of a righteous man was believed to atone for the sins of the nation. This somewhat counters one of the Jewish arguments against Jesus being the Messiah based on God's abhorrence of human sacrifice. If we consider that a righteous man's death and the sincere repentance of the witnesses, results in the atonement of sins, how much more meaning can we attach to the death of the most righteous man to have ever walked the earth; the Messiah Yeshua, God's lamb, who takes away the sins of the world?

‘Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me; yet, not my will but yours be done. -Luke 22:42

Then Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.’ -Luke 23:34

Then Jesus, crying with a loud voice, said, ‘Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.’ Having said this, he breathed his last. -Luke 23:46

The road is long and often, we travel in the dark.