I’m just getting back into the swing of things after being gone most of last week. I was in New York, representing the UMJC at an amazing event, April 12 through 14.

When the UMJC was founded, we stated two of our main objectives:

· To be a voice for Messianic Jewish Congregations and Messianic Judaism worldwide.

· To provide a forum for the discussion of issues relevant to Messianic Judaism and Messianic Jewish Congregations.

Our founding leaders wisely realized that we were not raised up to exist in a corner, but to interact with and influence the broader religious world. They also realized that we would do this not by agreeing on every point, but by learning how to discuss vital biblical issues fruitfully among ourselves and then with others far beyond the UMJC. Recently, these two objectives guided us to become a key player in a historic theological forum called the Borough Park Symposium (BPS), which just met for the second time. Here’s how BPS came about:

Back in 2006, after the release of Mark Kinzer’s book, Postmissionary Messianic Judaism,[1] Kesher: A Journal of Messianic Judaism ran a number of responses, including one by Mitch Glaser, president of Chosen People Ministries (CPM). Dr. Glaser ended with the suggestion that “a theological consultation, focusing on the issues raised by Kinzer in this book, should be held in the near future for Messianic Jews of various stripes. The time has come for us to unite as members of the Jewish community; a remnant with a responsibility to the God who calls us his chosen people.”[2] I liked what Mitch was saying and was glad to learn that he thought we should actually do something with his suggestion. Since the UMJC published Kesher at that time (it has since been transferred to MJTI), I gave Mitch a call, and before long, on October 19-20, 2006, we had organized a meeting in Brooklyn with ten Messianic Jewish colleagues. We soon realized that our community’s need for dialogue went beyond the scope of Mark Kinzer’s book, as wide as that is, to include numerous issues vital to the whole Messianic Jewish community. We agreed on a direction, on a Steering Committee, and on shared convictions that would determine who should actively participate:

· We are Jews who believe in Yeshua and in God’s covenant with Israel, and as members of the Jewish community, are committed to the welfare of our people.

· We feel compelled by the spirit of God to advance the good news of Yeshua among our people.

· We desire to preserve the unity and secure the future of the Messianic Jewish movement and our common mission through respectful dialogue, without acrimony even in the face of critical disagreements.

· We believe in the authority of Scripture and the deity of Yeshua, and that eternal life is the gift of God in Messiah Yeshua our Lord.

We wanted to include some of our non-Jewish members and allies, but felt that those who would actually present papers and enter the discussion should be Jewish. We also had to limit ourselves to a group small enough to allow for real discussion, yet broad enough to include the whole spectrum from Jewish missions to postmissionary Jewish leaders, and everyone in between. In other words, we could only invite a limited number of leaders from any given sub-group, including the UMJC, so inevitably some worthy participants were left out of the invitation list. Our vision, however, went beyond the event itself. We believed that increased understanding and fruitful dialogue would benefit the entire Messianic Jewish community in years to come.

Since we held our planning meeting in an Orthodox Jewish hotel in the Borough Park neighborhood of Brooklyn, we even had a great name for this consultation—the Borough Park Symposium. We scheduled it for a year later, October, 2007, and chose a topic that we knew would be controversial, but which seemed like a logical starting point for our dialogue: The Gospel and the Jewish People. When the symposium arrived, we discussed the nature of the gospel itself, how it applies specifically to Jewish people, and what outreach should look like in light of all this. Participants were impassioned, and not afraid of ideological clash, or of expressing agreement when it was there. Leaders who had staked out opposite ends of the Messianic Jewish spectrum years earlier now sat down together and talked. Indeed, several leaders told me that they’d had a chance to reconnect with colleagues with whom they hadn’t spoken, for one reason or another, for twenty or thirty years.

When the Steering Committee reviewed the Symposium, we felt it was a big success, not only in discussing the issues, but also in helping to “preserve the unity and secure the future of the Messianic Jewish movement and our common mission through respectful dialogue.” Although we didn’t want the Symposium to become institutionalized into an annual event, we started to think about a second one. The Steering Committee[3] met in May, 2008, and chose a topic that we imagined to be less controversial among us, The Deity of Messiah and the Mystery of God.

Paradoxically, this is the issue this is most controversial in the wider Jewish community, the boundary-marker that the Jewish community has set for centuries to define itself. No matter how Jewish in all other ways a person might be, a Jewish gatekeeper might say, belief in the deity of Yeshua all by itself drives him or her out of Judaism into Christianity. And Messianic Jews are problematic (and even to be feared) because they refuse to accept that they’ve crossed this line and to label themselves clearly as other.  

From this perspective, all of us gathered for BPS 2, as diverse as we might be, were on the same side of the divide, despite our differences, and even despite our lack of precise definition of the deity of Messiah. Our goal in meeting was not to produce a precise theological definition, but to discuss how we can embrace and share the truth of the deity of Messiah specifically as Jews. How do we respond to questions we often hear from non-Messianic Jewish friends? “Are you telling us to worship a man as God?” “Can it possibly be right for a Jew to acknowledge a Messiah who claims (or whose followers claim for him) to somehow be God?” “Why are you trying to bring such a non-Jewish idea into Judaism?”

To address questions like these, we heard from a wide range of presenters, and I’ll just name some of them to give an idea of their diversity: Dr. Darrell Bock, research professor of New Testament at Dallas Theological Seminary; Dr. Michael Brown, well-known author and apologist; Dr. Akiva Cohen and Dr. Erez Soref, Israel College of the Bible; Dr. Stuart Dauermann and Elliot Klayman, veteran UMJC leaders and authors; Ruth Fleischer, Richard Harvey and Mark Surey, all serving the Messianic community in Great Britain; J’han Moscowitz and Dr. Rich Robinson, with Jews for Jesus; Dr. Mitch Glaser, Chosen People Ministries; Dr. Mark Kinzer, president of Messianic Jewish Theological Institute; long-time Israeli leader Joseph Shulam; and younger leaders such as Joshua Brumbach, Jen Rosner, Jason Sobel, and Matt Rosenberg.  The plan is for their papers to be published in book form as soon as possible, so the whole Messianic Jewish community can benefit.

A more immediate benefit was the heightened sense of unity that came out of this event. Some of the panels included speakers who had been in hot debates with each other in recent years, who had widely different perspectives, and yet communicated with the greatest respect and deference. There were disagreements on lots of specific points, but an underlying sense that we are all in this together—marking out new territory as Jews who recognize the unique nature of the Messiah of Israel.  I believe that this renewed awareness of our underlying unity will help the entire Messianic Jewish community to move forward. As one of the Steering Committee members remarked afterwards, “I guess this BPS Symposium was about more than our theology!”

You shall eat no leavened bread with [the Passover lamb]; seven days you shall eat unleavened bread with it, the bread of affliction (for you came out of the land of Egypt in haste), that you may remember the day in which you came out of the land of Egypt all the days of your life (Deuteronomy 16:3).

 
Every biblical festival takes preparation, and the days of preparation are an essential part of the meaning and impact of the holy day itself. For example, we will soon begin counting the days between Passover and Shavuot, and the counting is essential to the very meaning of Shavuot.
Passover, though, requires a special degree of preparation, to fulfill the commandment that we not only refrain from eating "leavened bread," but also "that no leaven shall be found in your houses" (Ex. 12:19).  Therefore, Passover requires a major spring cleaning, the removal of chametz or leaven, which includes yeast and all products made of the five grains of biblical times: wheat, barley, spelt, rye, and oats. In later times Ashkenazi Rabbis also prohibited rice and legumes (beans, lentils, peas, etc.), but Sephardic Jews eat these during Passover. After these foods are removed, the house is thoroughly cleaned to eliminate every last particle. The final cleaning takes place the day before Passover, or two days before, if Passover begins on Saturday night. Jewish tradition provides a blessing for beginning the cleaning process: Blessed are you, O Lord our God, king of the universe, who has sanctified us by your commandments and commanded us concerning the removal of chametz. Tradition concludes the cleaning with a ceremonial search for leaven, in which the head of the house finds one last symbolic crumb, sweeps it up, and burns it, to fulfill the commandment: And no leaven shall be seen among you in all of your territory for seven days … (Deut. 16:4). He then recites, Any chametz that is in my possession, which I did or did not see, which I did or did not remove, shall be nullified and become ownerless, like the dust of the earth.

Preparation for Passover, however, not only responds to the negative command against chametz, but also to the positive command to eat matza. Both the Talmud and the B’rit Chadasha refer to leaven as sin or the “evil inclination.” Cleaning the leaven out of our houses pictures a spiritual preparation of renouncing sinful attitudes and deeds, especially pride, which is utterly incompatible with the spirit of Passover. We humbly remember that we were once in bondage to sin and death, and God in his mercy redeemed us. We express our humility by eating matza, the bread of affliction. Just as we are dependent on bread for our sustenance, we remain dependent on God’s grace for our redemption, and gladly affirm this dependency at Passover.

For indeed Messiah our Passover was sacrificed for us. Therefore, let us keep the feast, not with old chametz, nor with the chametz of malice and wickedness, but with the matza of sincerity and truth.    (1 Cor. 5:7-8)

Notice that Rav Sha'ul zeroes in on "malice" as the counterpart to leaven. Malice refers to wrong intentions, to the kind of self-seeking that destroys community. We commemorate Passover by coming together to share the ceremonial meal as one family, one people. As we prepare for Passover, we need to rid ourselves of the inner leaven, perhaps well hidden, that damages the unity into which God has called us, for indeed Messiah our Passover was sacrificed for us.

I am one of the countless American Jews who grew up with the Maxwell House Haggadah. I didn’t mind the two or three pages trying to sell coffee­­, because the rest of the Haggadah was filled with cool black-and-white illustrations of the ten plagues, the parting of the Red Sea, and other highlights of the Exodus. As every Haggadah is supposed to do, it helped the Passover story come alive.

But, of course, the Maxwell House Haggadah was just one edition among thousands. Just as the tradition of the Passover seder has survived through the centuries, so has the tradition of producing new versions of the Haggadah. The introduction to a recent example, The JPS Commentary on the Haggadah (Philadelphia, Jewish Publication Society, 2008), explains the tradition:

Of all the classic Jewish texts—the Talmud, the Jewish Bible, and the prayer book—the haggadah is the one most “alive” today. Jews continue to rewrite, revise, and add to its text, recasting it so as to maintain the haggadah’s relevance to their lives. . . . Since the early Middle Ages . . . probably the most typical way Jews have made the haggadah speak to their contemporary concerns and needs has been through the act of composing commentaries on it and then drawing on their elaborations and interpretations at the seder. (p. xi)

Messianic Jews, of course, are particularly invested in “elaborations and interpretations” at the seder, since so much of its symbolism evokes the story of Messiah Yeshua, which not only reached its culmination during Passover, but was deeply interwoven with the events of the festival itself. We’ll have a lot to gain from the JPS Commentary, which features an extensive historical introduction to all the elements of the seder, followed by the haggadah itself, in Hebrew and English, with a concise commentary at the bottom of each page. It’s not the sort of book that you read cover-to-cover (and definitely not a haggadah that you’d supply to every guest at your seder), but the sort to which you’re likely to return every year as you start thinking about Passover.

The development of the haggadah from its earliest traces in the Mishnah, through the Talmudic period, and into its flowering in medieval times and beyond, reflects the broader development of Jewish history in general. One example is the famous statement of R. Gamliel, “Whoever did not explain these three things on Passover has not fulfilled his duty. They are: Pesach, matzah and maror” (p. 99). The answer recorded in the Mishnah is far simpler than that in the haggadah:

Passover—for the Makom passed over the home of our ancestors in Egypt; bitter herbs—for the Egyptians embittered the lives of our ancestors in Egypt; matzah—for they were redeemed. (p. 30)

Commentator Joseph Tabory recounts how this simple explanation evolved into the more elaborate treatment in the haggadah, and how it got separated from its original context, which was a response to Ma Nishtanah (Why is this night different?), the Four Questions asked toward the beginning of the seder. Originally, the Four Questions were the Three Questions, related to the three mandatory foods of Passover mentioned by Gamliel, but they changed with the changing circumstances of Jewish life, and so did the rest of the haggadah.

In tracing such changes, the haggadah demonstrates Judaism’s genius in preserving and transmitting core biblical truths through shifting cultural conditions, indeed employing such conditions to convey those truths. The haggadah also demonstrates the limits of this adaptability. For example, Tabory provides a fascinating discussion of the afikoman. The term first appears in the Mishnah, which “declares that, after the paschal meal, one may not declare afikoman. This is to be understood as a reference to the revelry (epikomos) that was a common after-dinner feature at Greco-Roman meals” (p. 15). Originally this prohibition was meant to keep the sacred feast from degenerating into a not-so-sacred feast. Later, afikoman came to be understood as dessert, which was prohibited so that the lamb, or later, the matzah, would be the last taste that remained with one after the feast. Still later, “the piece of matzah that concluded the meal was first termed the afikoman, changing the term from something that was forbidden to something that was a positive requirement.”

Before Messianic Jews go back to the drawing board on our usual treatment of the afikoman, however, we should read Tabory’s footnote, “In recent times, several scholars have attempted to revive the theory of David Daube that the word ‘afikoman’ in the Mishnah is derived from a Greek word that means ‘he has arisen’ . . .” This is not the only hint in the commentary that the haggadah as we know it today may have been influenced by the early Messianic seder. For example, R. Gamliel’s emphasis on explaining the three mandatory foods may have arisen in response to “Christian,” that is Messianic Jewish, explanations of the matzah and wine at the last supper (p. 13).

In addition to an abundance of such material, the JPS Commentary provides a clear and well-organized version of the haggadah itself. Any haggadah will be assessed in part by its design as a book; its beauty, clarity, and ease of use. This version rates well, although it is not illustrated as most regular haggadot are. (It does include illustrations from other haggadot in a separate section.) Its original English translation is clear and readable, with two unique features, one positive and one negative. On the positive side, it translates the tetragrammaton as Adonai, to give it more of a sense of a personal (Jewish) name than the usual “Lord.” This usage allows for the translation of Elohim as “Lord,” which, Tabory claims, “better reflects its true meaning.” The negative feature is that the translation uses the archaic and too-pious “Thou” instead of “You” in the blessing formula, so that it reads, “Blessed art Thou, Adonai our Lord, King of the universe . . .” The rest of the blessing goes back to the normal “You” terminology. This seems quirky, but that's a minor complaint.

The haggadah’s balance of tradition and fluidity is a model for the Messianic Jewish community as we embrace both the continuity of Jewish tradition and the fluidity of ongoing renewal through the Spirit of Messiah. The JPS Commentary demonstrates the tradition-fluidity balance well, and should prove to be an important resource for pursuing this balance within our community.

Religion always gets a bad press. It seems everyone’s ready to talk about spirituality, especially their own, but religion remains in the rhetorical dog house.

Right now, I’m reading a Christian bestseller from a couple of years back, Blue Like Jazz (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2009), and I notice its subtitle, Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality. The author, Donald Miller, grows up as a church-going Texan who “started to sin about the time I turned ten.” He found religion to be helpful in alleviating his guilt feelings. “For me, however, there was a mental wall between religion and God. I could walk around inside religion and never, on any sort of emotional level, understand that God was a person, an actual Being with thoughts and feelings and that sort of thing” (p. 8). Later, Miller says, “I believe that the greatest trick of the devil is not to get us into some sort of evil but rather have us wasting time. That is why the devil tries so hard to get Christians to be religious” (p. 13). He does get converted before too long, not to any particular religion, even Christianity, but to “Christian spirituality” (p. 59).

Another recent read goes after religion even more aggressively. ReJesus: A Wild Messiah for a Missional Church (by Michael Frost and Alan Hirsch [Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 2009]), as its subtitle implies, portrays a thoroughly outsider Yeshua who, for example, “plays fast and loose with the legalism of Sabbath keeping. In fact, he subverts the whole religious system. . . . He is antireligious . . .” (p. 28-29).  

An attentive Messianic Jewish reader will start to get a bit nervous over all this religion bashing. Often enough, the religion that gets bashed in contrast with Yeshua’s non-religion is Judaism. Or, to put it in ReJesus’ terms, real Christianity is not a religion at all, but real Judaism still seems to be. (I have to note that despite my disagreements with these books, I really liked them, gained a lot from them, and even recommend both of them. Ah, the joys of reading.) Despite drawing repeatedly and positively from the works of Jewish writers like Martin Buber and Elie Wiesel, and including a whole chapter based on the Shema, ReJesus consistently pictures Yeshua as overturning the Judaism of his day. “As the true prophet of God, he totally radicalizes the kingdom by negating and bypassing the religious institution that has inadvertently begun to block its operations and activity (Matt. 23:13ff.) . . .” (p. 78). The religious institution here, of course, is the “Judaism of Jesus’ time” which is “degenerate and in need of renewal” (p. 73).

Much of what distinguishes Messianic Judaism, however, is our religious practice. It’s hard to imagine a real Messianic Jewish movement without such religious traditions as the weekly Torah reading, recitation of the Shema, lighting the candles on Erev Shabbat, or sitting down for a ritual meal on Passover to remember the exodus from Egypt. I’d argue that religion isn’t the problem, but religiosity. Religion is like money—neither good nor bad in itself, but good or bad depending on how you use it. I call misused religion religiosity. A Pharisee in one of Yeshua’s tales displays religiosity when he glances up from his prayers to check out a tax collector praying nearby, and says, “God, I thank you that I am not like other men—extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I possess” (Luke 18:11-12).

To be fair, ReJesus does sometimes distinguish between religion and religiosity, and even notes that religious institutions are necessary, because they provide the essential “stability and order” that help a religious movement “survive and prosper.” The challenge, it rightly states, is for the institution to be continually renewed through “a return to the original ethos and the power of its founder” (p. 77). So religion has its purpose and needs to be revitalized, not scrapped. I don’t think the Messianic Jewish community would disagree with that statement. I also think the statement reveals a pendulum swing in the religion vs. spirituality discussion. Indeed, the Messianic Jewish community may be ahead of the curve, or perhaps I should say, ahead of the pendulum swing, on this one, as religion is getting a second look.

Recently a colleague told me that a Jewish acquaintance expressed an interest in attending services as his synagogue. “I’m a spiritual person,” she said, as almost everyone says nowadays, “But I think I need some religion.” A couple of years ago I attended a continuing education seminar in counseling led by Harold Koenig, a prominent authority on faith and healing. (His most recent book is Medicine, Religion, and Health: Where Science and Spirituality Meet [West Conshohocken, PA: Templeton Foundation Press, 2008].) Koenig cited multitudes of studies that show a positive connection between religious practice and good health—lower rates of depression and heart disease, quicker recovery from operations and illnesses, greater life expectancy, and so on. When one of the attendees asked him why he didn’t speak of spirituality instead of religion, Koenig said that religion can be measured in actions like regular church or synagogue attendance, Bible reading, or prayer, and spirituality can’t be. You can’t do research projects on spirituality, but you can on religion. And measurable religion, it turns out, is good for you.

This measurability, of course, is both a benefit and bane to religion. Yeshua said that we’d know real prophets by their fruit (Matt. 7:15-20), but he also warned that we can misuse our own good fruit, meager though it might be, to out-religion someone else, as the Pharisee does with the tax collector. The remedy: religion that expresses a heart of devotion to Messiah. Yeshua wasn’t impressed with the Pharisee who tithed everything he had, but he was really impressed with the religious devotion of the widow who gave “two small copper coins, which make a penny” (Mark 12:41-42)—a much smaller measure than the Pharisee’s, but one that equaled all she had to give.

The cover of my new Koren Siddur is adorned with Hebrew words in a golden, ultra-modern font, Da lifnei mi atah omed—“Know before whom you stand”—words often inscribed over the ark in a synagogue to remind us that our worship is of little value without kavanah, intentional focus upon God. Such focus is evident throughout this new Hebrew-English siddur, with translation and commentary by Rabbi Sir Jonathan Sacks (Koren Publishers Jerusalem, 2009).

The Koren-Sacks siddur achieves and conveys kavanah in at least three ways.

First, in its physical presentation. In 1981 Eliyahu Koren explained that the format of his original, Hebrew-only, siddur was intended to “become a source of inspiration, reverence, sanctity, and awe.”

To achieve this, we created an original design of the printed font and the layout of the words in accordance with the meaning of the prayers, line-by-line, page-by-page. From a visual standpoint, the contents of the prayers are presented in a style that does not spur habit and hurry, but rather encourages the worshiper to engross his mind and heart in prayer. (p. ix)

Most prayers, for example, are not printed in paragraphs, but as poetry, line by line, with line breaks corresponding to the logical flow of the prayer. As much as possible, each prayer is kept whole, beginning and ending on the same page, which creates a sense of holiness and order on the page itself. As I use this siddur, I keep discovering new, often tiny, details of design that enhance its sense of prayerfulness. Comparisons with the popular Artscroll Siddur will be inevitable. Both siddurs seek to fulfill the traditional value of hiddur mitzvah or beautifying an object used to fulfill a mitzvah;[1] the Artscroll through ornament and embellishment, the Koren through order and simplicity.

Second, Rabbi Sacks’ translation reflects the same order and simplicity, combining normal, modern English with the dignity appropriate to the prayers. Again, in comparison with the Artscroll, it is less idiosyncratic, seeking to translate, rather than interpret, the original Hebrew and Aramaic.

Third, the commentary serves not just to explain, but to heighten the devotional experience of the prayers. I’ll illustrate both translation and commentary with a look at Rabbi Sacks’ treatment of the Shema. He translates it as,

Listen, Israel: the Lord is our God,

the Lord is One.

And the commentary: “The word Shema is untranslatable in English. It means (1) listen, (2) hear, (3) reflect on, (4) understand, (5) internalize, (6) respond in action, and hence (7) obey. . . . I have translated it here as ‘Listen’ rather than the traditional ‘Hear’ because listening is active, hearing passive. The Shema is a call to an act of mind and soul, to meditate on, internalize and affirm the oneness of God” (p. 470-471). For me, Sacks’ decision to go with “Listen” over the traditional “Hear” provides not only new insights, but also a new devotional focus when I recite the Shema. It’s also typical of his translation approach, which generally keeps a low profile, but isn’t afraid to do something new and noticeable when necessary.

Messianic Jews relate to the traditional Siddur in a variety of ways. Some embrace it as a primary source of prayer and spirituality, with its numerous prayers for the coming of Messiah ben David and the restoration that he will bring with him compensating for its silence regarding Yeshua. For other Messianic Jews, the traditional Siddur is a valued, if secondary, resource for worship and Jewish learning. For the entire spectrum, the Koren Siddur arrives with an undeniable place of honor in the essential Jewish library.

The UMJC is all about congregations, Messianic Jewish congregations in particular. But over the years “Messianic Jewish,” as well as the more generic “Messianic,” has come to be applied to all different kinds of congregations. I don’t want to get into who deserves the label and who doesn’t. Rather, I’m interested in congregations, or communities, that can be called messianic not as a religious brand, but as a description of their values and priorities. Messianic Judaism should not only be about this or that style of worship or way of interpreting Scripture, but more about the values and power of Messiah within the Jewish space of our congregations—the Judaism of Messianic presence, as I called it in my 9/14/09 blog.

Messianic presence implies the presence and activity of the Ruach, the Spirit of God, among us. The first blog in this series, covering the first part of the seven-fold vision for the near future, was on “Ruach renewal in Jewish space,” so in a way we’ve come full circle, but now I’m emphasizing the presence of Messiah through his ethos, the values and practices that Yeshua brings into a community when we are open to him (and ultimately open to his Spirit). I’ll focus on two inter-related aspects of this ethos.

The first aspect reflects two of our UMJC core values: “Deference and respect are key elements in our fellowship” (Core Value 1); and “We recognize that all people are made in the image of God and therefore will endeavor to treat them with respect” (Core Value 5).

One way we show respect is by validating the views of others. The founding objectives of the UMJC include, “To provide a forum for the discussion of issues relevant to Messianic Judaism and Messianic Jewish Congregations.” We are supposed to discuss our insights and convictions together, and even argue for them with passion. Otherwise we not only neglect part of our mandate in the UMJC, but we form a religious community that is flavorless and irrelevant—or that is seething with behind-the-scenes discussions in which we talk about each other instead of to each other. Indeed, if impassioned debate isn’t a Jewish value, I don’t know what is. But we need to go beyond that to debate with respect and deference for each other, to realize we are debating with family and that in the end it is Yeshua himself, not our various convictions and insights, that constitutes Truth (with a deliberate capital T).

Invalidating, instead of validating, the views of others destroys “the discussion of issues relevant to Messianic Judaism” and anything else, really, by drawing up a rigid position and refusing to learn from anyone on the other side of it. It works by caricaturing their position, so that we can dismantle it more readily, instead of trying to understand it before responding at all. Invalidating means questioning the motives, the character, the intellect, the education of the other. Sometimes we take this approach because we think we are defending the truth, but it serves our comfortable sense of being right far more than it serves the truth.

I read a book last year entitled, “You Don’t Have to be Wrong for Me to be Right.” The author, Rabbi Brad Hirschfield, notes that in the religious world, as in the political world, we tend to establish our rightness by invalidating the position of the other. But it doesn’t have to be that way. I don’t have to argue for my position or practices by demanding that you see and do things the same way I do. If we are careful to respect and validate those with whom we disagree, we create a whole different, and rare, kind of community, which is exactly what we’re called to do, especially as those who claim the example of Messiah Yeshua and the power of the Ruach.

A second aspect of the Jewish ethos of Yeshua that should be part of our congregational life is concern for the disadvantaged, poor, and oppressed. I am writing this a few days after the horrific January 12 earthquake in Haiti. Governments and non-governmental agencies are rushing in to do what they can, and agencies representing Messiah are right in the thick of it, which they should be. Such efforts are not an addendum to following Messiah, but essential to it. Significantly, Jewish agencies are involved in Haiti as well, although there is virtually no Jewish population there. Redemptive action in the world—tikkun olam in Jewish terms—is a dominant value in the Jewish world, and it's a make-it-or-break-it quality of congregations that claim to represent both Yeshua and Jewishness.

In the Messianic Jewish community we sometimes suffer from short-sightedness on this issue, which may arise from our deep connection with mid-century American fundamentalism. This connection is not all bad by any means, as it includes a high regard for Scripture and a firm stand on the centrality of Yeshua. But there’s also the idea that the only reason for sticking around in this world after you’ve found Messiah is to help others find him too. I’ve heard more than one preacher dismiss social action by observing that we are surely in the end times and soon to be whisked off to our heavenly home, so why polish the brass on a sinking ship? Now, I believe in outreach and our need to stir up new passion for it (see number 2 in this series), but I also believe that our biblical assignment includes much more. Part of our assignment, which is probably part of more effective outreach too, is to be involved in tikkun olam, which isn’t going to make everything right, because only the return of Messiah will do that, but is our responsibility nonetheless.

In our recent Webinar on “Creating Spiritual Homes for the New American Jew,” Monique Brumbach suggested three aspects of tikkun olam that can be part of the program for a Messianic Jewish congregation:

Charity: Food for the hungry, shelter for the homeless, assistance to battered women, environmental stewardship, and of course the sort of help being extended to the people of Haiti right now.

Advocacy for the Jewish people: support for Israel, Messianic aliyah, Holocaust survivors, the elderly, etc.

Advocacy for the Other: victims of genocide, refugees, immigrants, religious minorities, etc.

Monique is a younger Messianic Jew and I believe she speaks for her generation when she highlights the importance of such involvement among us. This is a big part of what younger people are looking for in our community.

People long to see congregations that are messianic not as a religious brand, but as a description of values and priorities that reflect Messiah himself. The two aspects I’ve covered, deferential respect at home and redemptive action in the world, are interrelated because they both recognize the biblical truth of human beings created as bearers of the divine image, a truth established in the very first chapter of Genesis. As we continue to embody these values, or rather as we expand our embodiment of these values, our communities will touch many more lives in the years to come.

My parents belonged to the generation that grew up during the Great Depression, worked hard, saved, and got an education despite the tough times; came of age and helped to win World War II; and built the prosperity and influence of post-war America. Journalist Tom Brokaw called theirs the Greatest Generation. Their offspring, including me, are part of the most analyzed, discussed, and self-conscious generation, the Baby Boomers. In the Messianic Jewish world, Boomers are now the establishment. Our challenge is to shift the focus from ourselves to the younger generations who are not just coming along behind us, but who are already putting their own stamp on our community. Hence, part six of my seven-part vision for the near future: Seeing younger leaders and members as present not future.

This shift in focus means treating younger members of our community as colleagues, and making real room for them at the leadership table. But, even though I’ll insist that the younger generation is present not future, I’ll also have to admit that it is small, indeed smaller than my nearing-retirement generation. (And it doesn’t really help to note that the whole religious world in North America, Jewish as well as Christian, faces the same challenge.)

In recognition of this demographic challenge, a few years back I proposed a goal of raising up over the next ten years a new, under-40 generation that is larger than the current over-40 generation. We’ve made some real headway toward that goal, but I recognize that this is a rather vague goal. The “next ten years” is a horizon that keeps receding, as does “under 40.” So, I’m working on nailing down this goal with more specific timelines and objectives, which I hope to announce to our delegates this summer.

Last month, our midyear Excellence in Ministry retreat (providing continuing education for our leaders) was entitled The Messianic Future, and all the presenters were younger leaders, chosen not just because they were younger, but because they had something vital to say to us all. (A Webinar based on part of the retreat is coming tomorrow, January 5, at 8:00 PM EST. Click here to sign up: https://www2.gotomeeting.com/register/348332371.) When I gave an introduction to the retreat, I was able to put it into the context of longer-range UMJC efforts on behalf of new generations, not just since we set the goal of a larger under-40 generation, but long before:

•        A Youth Committee has been active since the earliest days of the UMJC.

•        A Scholar Fund was established 1998 or 1999 to help educate new leaders.

•        The Dor l’dor committee of youth and young adults met in January 2001 to recommend enhancements in our next generation efforts. This led to founding Internship and work-study programs and a new Twenties Committee in 2001.

•        We gained funding for a young adult program developer starting in 2004.

•        Young adult conferences, Kabbetz Haesrim, began soon after, with two in 2009 and three coming in 2010.

•        We sponsored Young Leaders Shabbatons and Young Scholars conferences, 2005–2008, in partnership with other ministries.

•        We helped launch Messianic Jewish Theological Institute, 2002–2007; continued partnership with MJTI in leadership training.

•        We sponsored a Young Leaders Retreats in 2009 and are planning another in 2010, with sponsorship by other ministries as well.

•        A pilot Messianic Jewish teen camp was launched in 2009 and we plan to partner in future camps.

•        Watch for a possible family camp conference format for 2011.

All of this paints an encouraging picture. We face the same demographic challenge as the rest of the North American religious world, but we are mobilized to meet the challenge. I look forward to great fruit in the months and years ahead.

A more specific challenge for those of us in leadership, though, is the one I mention above: seeing younger leaders and members as present not future. This means making genuine room for them at the leadership table and in the life of our congregations, not clinging to privilege or status, or even to the familiar and comfortable, but opening wide the door of service and expression. At bottom it is another application of Yeshua’s unique approach to leadership: “You know that those who are considered rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. But it shall not be so among you. But whoever would be . . . first among you must be the servant of all” (Mark 10:42-44). Sometimes the most effective act of leadership is making room for another to lead—especially another who is younger and less experienced.

At our recent leadership retreat (and the follow-up Webinar on Jan. 5) presenter Monique Brumbach mentioned a book with the intriguing title Bobos in Paradise by David Brooks (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2000). Bobos are bourgeous bohemians, who comprise "the new upper class" according to Brooks, and have shaped our contemporary culture in multiple ways. In his chapter on business life, Brooks describes how bobos have created new companies "that have stood the Organization Man on his head." Ironically, these companies seem to reflect the networking model I present in my earlier blog (5. Moving ahead through Networking), which in turn reflects the biblical model of Ephesians 4. 

"Companies today, the mantra goes, have to think biologically. They have to create lean, decentralized, informal participatory systems. They have to tear down rigid structures and let a thousand flowers bloom. The machine is no longer held up as the standard that healthy organizations should emulate. Now it's the ecosystem. [I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the increase . . . for we are God's fellow workers; you are God's field.] It's the ever-changing organic network that serves as the model to define a healthy organization, filled with spontaneous growth and infinitely complex and dynamic interconnections."

This paragraph jumped out at me as an expansion on the networking I speak of in blog 5. Brooks is thinking of the internal system of an organization, but we can apply it to the way an organization interacts with other organizations too, especially within the at-least-theoretically non-competitive environment of religious organizations. I doubt that the author has the Bible in mind at all, but his last phrase--"filled with spontaneous growth and infinitely complex and dynamic interconnections"--is almost a paraphrase of Ephesians 4:16, "from whom the whole body, joined and knit together by what every joint supplies, according to the effective working by which every part does its share, causes growth of the body for the edifying of itself in love." So as we build on the networking model we not only feel up-to-date but, far more important, we reflect timeless biblical truths as well.

NT Wright’s new book, Justification: God’s Plan & Paul’s Vision (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2009) will ring true on many points to Messianic Jews. Wright insists that Paul must be read in the context of second temple Judaism and can only be understood in terms of the Jewish story that unfolds throughout the Tanakh. According to Wright, “many first-century Jews thought of themselves as living in a continuing narrative stretching from earliest times, through ancient prophecies, and on toward a climactic moment of deliverance which might come at any moment” (p. 59). Paul thought and wrote, and must be interpreted, in terms of this continuing Jewish narrative. He treated the Hebrew Scriptures not just as introductory or illustrative, but as foundational to his whole theology. From within this positive approach to the Tanakh and the Jewish context of the B’rit Hadashah, however, Wright reaches some conclusions that are antithetical to the sort of Messianic Judaism articulated by the UMJC.

Thus, within the continuing Jewish narrative that provides a context for Paul, is the theme of “continuing exile” of the Jewish people, the awareness that the fulfillment of all the prophets had promised still awaits, so that a dominant Jewish question was, “When is God going to do what he’s promised?” Messianic Jews can agree with this framework for understanding Paul, and with the criticism that Wright distills from it of “a non-historical soteriology the long and the short of which is ‘my relationship with God’ rather than ‘what God is going to do to sort out his world and his people’” (p. 61). Or, as he puts it a little later, “the key question facing Judaism as a whole was not about individual salvation, but about God’s purposes for Israel and the world” (pp. 75-76). Paul’s response to such questions, according to Wright, is “that the definite goal God had in mind had already been launched in and through the Messiah, Jesus . . .” (p. 101).

The Jewish return from exile begins with the resurrection of Messiah. So far, we Messianic Jews are still tracking with Wright. But he begins to lose us as he develops this point. If Jews are restored to membership in the people of God through Messiah (and this is one way that Wright seems understand “return from exile”), and Gentiles are added to God’s people in precisely the same way, the old category of “ethnic Israel” (Wright’s term, which I find questionable) has been left behind. Justification, the subject of the whole book, entails incorporation into the people of God, which is accomplished through the faithfulness of Messiah, and is available by faith to Gentiles as well as Jews. Again, Messianic Jews will agree. But Wright sees this people of God formed in Messiah as replacing “ethnic Israel” as the people of God. For example, almost in passing: “Israel under the Torah cannot be declared to be God’s people, because Torah merely points to sin” (p. 121). Or, commenting on Galatians 3:28, “‘There is no “Jew and Greek”!’ . . . If you’re in the Messiah, you’ve left behind those old ethnic solidarities along with every other aspect of the ‘present evil age’! . . . The single plan through Israel for the world has turned out to be the single plan through Israel’s representative, the Messiah, for the world including Israel, and all those who belong to the Messiah now form the one promised family” (pp. 130–131, emphases original).

Notice that “ethnic solidarity,” which for Wright includes solidarity with “ethnic Israel,” is part of this present evil age. For Wright, Paul “show[s] that in the gospel this ethnic identity is dismantled, so that a new identity may be constructed, in which the things that separated Jew from Gentile no longer matter” (p. 116).

In response, we can apply Wright’s own categories to one particular passage on which he comments briefly to suggest a different conclusion.

[Y]ou, then, that teach others, will you not teach yourself? While you preach against stealing, do you steal? You that forbid adultery, do you commit adultery? You that abhor idols, do you rob temples? You that boast in the law, do you dishonor God by breaking the law? For, as it is written, “The name of God is blasphemed among the Gentiles because of you.” (Rom. 2:21-24; all biblical references are NRSV.)

From our 21st century distance, we might read this passage to mean that the Gentiles are blaspheming God because of Jewish misbehavior. But the reference to blaspheming God echoes two passages from the prophets, and the underlying theology of those passages suggests a different interpretation. Wright argues, after Richard Hays (Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul), “When  Paul quotes Scripture, he regularly intends to refer, not simply to the actual words quoted, but to the whole passage” (p. 33). The quotation, “The name of God is blasphemed among the Gentiles because of you,” reflects the Septuagint of Isaiah.

For thus says the Lord: You were sold for nothing, and you shall be redeemed without money. For thus says the Lord God: Long ago, my people went down into Egypt to reside there as aliens; the Assyrian, too, has oppressed them without cause. Now therefore what am I doing here, says the Lord, seeing that my people are taken away without cause? Their rulers howl, says the Lord, and continually, all day long, my name is despised. (Is. 52:3-5, emphasis added.)

“Despised” is “blasphemed” in Greek, and mino’atz in the Hebrew, which the NJPS version translates as “My name is reviled.” The Jewish Study Bible aptly comments, “God’s own reputation is harmed by the Babylonian exile, and for this reason God is sure to liberate the nation.” This is the context for Paul’s reference in Romans 2:24, which comes across as a rebuke against Israel, but echoes the promise of restoration in Isaiah 52.

Romans 2:24 also seems to echo Ezekiel 36:19-24, which employs the Hebrew root chalil, translated “profane” in the NRSV, a word that parallels Paul’s “blaspheme” in Rom. 2:24.

I scattered them among the nations, and they were dispersed through the countries; in accordance with their conduct and their deeds I judged them. But when they came to the nations, wherever they came, they profaned my holy name, in that it was said of them, “These are the people of the Lord, and yet they had to go out of his land.” But I had concern for my holy name, which the house of Israel had profaned among the nations to which they came. Therefore say to the house of Israel, Thus says the Lord God: It is not for your sake, O house of Israel, that I am about to act, but for the sake of my holy name, which you have profaned among the nations to which you came. I will sanctify my great name, which has been profaned among the nations, and which you have profaned among them; and the nations shall know that I am the Lord, says the Lord God, when through you I display my holiness before their eyes. I will take you from the nations, and gather you from all the countries, and bring you into your own land. (Emphasis added.)

Again, God’s name is blasphemed or despised not because of Israel’s poor behavior among the Gentiles, but because Israel is in exile, which seems to indicate God’s failure. God’s vindication must include a return from exile that restores Israel within the same categories that defined Israel’s public disgrace. This is precisely what Isaiah and Ezekiel describe, and it is the backdrop for Romans 2. It won’t do to redefine the return from exile as incorporation into a new people of God through the resurrection of Messiah, as Wright seems to do. Rather, if Paul’s original Jewish hearer saw himself as part of a continuing Jewish narrative, rooted in Tanakh, as Wright insists, he would hear Romans 2:24 as a reminder that he and his people were still in exile. Hence, they are still under sin and awaiting the righteousness or justification that God will reveal for Israel and the nations (Romans 3). Wright insists that we understand Paul’s references from the Hebrew Scriptures within their original context. So, when Paul cites the prophets, it is not just to proof-text or to illustrate a point, but to ground his statements in the underlying theology of the Hebrew Scriptures. Therefore, we can expect the full revelation of God’s righteousness promised in Romans to include the return from exile described by Ezekiel. Note that Ezekiel’s return, while solidly placed in concrete, historic space, includes spiritual renewal as well.

This expectation seems to underlie Paul’s thinking in Romans 9-11, especially the climactic chapter 11, which has been extensively discussed in Messianic Jewish circles. Suffice it to say here that when Paul writes that, “All Israel will be saved” (Rom. 11:26), we can understand Israel as the same exiled people that “failed to obtain what it was seeking” (vs. 7), “stumbled” (vs. 11), experienced defeat and rejection (vss. 12 & 15), and hardening in part until the [fullness] of the Gentiles has come in (vs. 25). And so all Israel will be saved (vs. 26), not only being grafted back into their own olive tree (vss. 23–24), but also returning, as the Hebrew prophets promised, from the very real exile in which they remained.

Hays confirms this interpretation of Romans 2:24, introducing his discussion of the passage with the question, “is Paul promulgating a teaching that effectually dissolves Israel’s identity altogether?” (Echoes, p. 44). As we have seen, Wright seems to answer in the positive: “in the gospel this ethnic identity is dismantled, so that a new identity may be constructed, in which the things that separated Jew from Gentile no longer matter.” Hays agrees that one might reach such a conclusion on an initial reading of Romans 2, but claims that a reading of the whole letter deconstructs this conclusion. “The quotation of Isa. 52:5 works metaphorically in Paul’s argument only if the reader castigated by the text imaginatively takes on the role of Israel in exile. Yet the reader who assumes that posture cannot then fail to hear also the promises of hope and deliverance that Isaiah speaks to Israel in exile” (p. 46). Hays goes on to cite Romans 11:26–27, and concludes in reference to 2:24: “Paul depicts God scolding Israel, like a parent chiding a child who has brought dishonor to the family, only because Israel’s covenant relation with God remains intact, as many other passages both in Isaiah and in Romans will insist” (ibid.).

Hence, three aspects of Wright’s hermeneutical approach support our confidence in a literal, corporate restoration of Israel through Messiah, a restoration that reverses Wright’s claim that Jewish identity no longer matters. Thus Wright sees Paul as:

·         Writing from within a continuing Jewish narrative, in which Jewish readers see themselves participating.

·         Assuming the continued exile of Israel and the promise of restoration as an underlying theme in his letters.

·         Providing references to the Tanakh that must be interpreted with their original full context in mind.

To these three aspects of Wright’s hermeneutic we add a fourth: a “now-and-not-yet” eschatology, “so that the followers of Jesus were living both in the continuing ‘old age’ and, more decisively in the already inaugurated new one” (p. 101). The “now” includes the present, ongoing restoration of individual Jews to right status within the people of God through the resurrection of Messiah; the “not yet” includes the return from exile of all Israel, which entails restoration to right status as the people of God for all Israel, as promised by the prophets. Both the now and not yet are accomplished in and through the faithfulness of Messiah Yeshua and apprehended by faith in him.  

The way forward in the 21st century, for the UMJC and organizations like us, is through cooperative efforts and partnerships. Our Young Leaders Retreat in 2009 was co-sponsored by Jewish Voice Ministries, as well as Messianic Literature Outreach and two of our member congregations. We have worked with Chosen People Ministries on other projects, and actively partner with Messianic Jewish Theological Institute to provide leadership training. This approach is often the most efficient way to get things done, and it goes beyond talking about unity to actually doing unity.

Networking in this sense is very up to date. One of the outcomes of the digital age, for good and for ill, is that it is has become difficult to establish and maintain ownership of anything. I don’t follow the current music world as much as I’d like to, but I know that there have been battles in recent years over the ownership of music that is posted on the internet and made available for downloading. Who gets the royalties? Who gets paid? How about ideas—intellectual property—that are disseminated online and as hard to monitor as leaves blowing in the breeze?

Such erosion of boundaries is not always a good thing, of course, but in one realm it makes sense—building and propagating spiritual community. The good news of Messiah doesn’t belong to any one person (except Messiah himself), but ministries and religious professionals often try to stake out a claim to part of it. Such insider jockeying for position has got to be a major turn-off to outsiders. It can also be a huge waste of resources. I realized this a few years back as the UMJC became more involved in aid to Israel. We could have developed and trademarked our own humanitarian project, raised funds, created an infrastructure (and overhead), and carved out a slice of the pie of good deeds in Israel. Instead, we’ve chosen to network with existing ministries, including Chevra USA, with which we have a particularly close relationship, and to focus on channeling funds especially to Messianic Jewish relief efforts in Israel. It’s not only more efficient, but it also makes a great spiritual statement, as we do unity instead of just talking about unity. The same applies to networking on the domestic level, as in the opening paragraph.

This approach seems particularly apt to the 21^st century digital age, and I believe it has potential to help expand the borders of the Messianic community, that is, to reach more Jewish people for Messiah. I’ll mention just two reasons for that potential:

1. Competition—the opposite of networking—looks unspiritual, especially to outsiders. Cooperation, on the other hand, is attractive. You can try for a neutral stance in which you neither compete nor actively cooperate, but that ends up looking pretty isolated (which leads to my point below). If we are propagating a message about the greatness of God and the broadness of his redemptive purposes, we have the opportunity to demonstrate the message through pursuing cooperative efforts.
2. Networking satisfies our need to connect. Most people have this need, but it is especially relevant to outsiders, who do not want to enter a religious community and become isolated from the rest of the world. No one wants to be added to the score sheet of some overly controlling religious leader. Instead, we want to be part of something bugger than our immediate surroundings. Networking allows a group to pursue its unique vision and to remain connected with the wider world at the same time.

Rav Shaul’s picture of the body of Messiah in Ephesians 4 reflects the sort of healthy networking that I hope to see in the UMJC and our relationship with other organizations:  “We are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Messiah, from whom the whole body, joined and knit together by every ligament with which it is equipped, as each part is working properly, promotes the body’s growth in building itself up in love.”