One of the Hebrew Names of God is El Rachum – the Compassionate God (the word rechem means womb, see Deut. 4:31, Isa. 49:15). Practicing compassion is therefore one of the middot ha-lev (qualities of heart) that should mark our lives — especially in light of the rachamanut (compassion) given to us through Yeshua the Mashiach (Col. 3:13, Eph. 5:2).

Proverbs 11:27 states: “He who seeks good [for others] seeks [God’s] favor, but he who searches out evil [in others] upon him shall it come.” The sages remark that he who prays for another and is in need of the same thing is answered first (Talmud: Bava Kamma). For example, when the prophet Job prayed for his friends, God restored Job’s own fortunes (Job 42:10). There is always a shared blessing when we pray for others, as King David said in Psalm 35:13: “may what I prayed for happen to me!” (literally, “may it return upon my own breast” [תפִלָּתִי עַל־חֵיקִי תָשׁוּב]).

This truth works both ways. When we seek the good of others, we find God’s favor, but when we show indifference or apathy, it likewise shall “return upon our own breast.”

Make His will as your own,
so that He will regard your will as His own (Pirkei Avot 2:4a)

Indeed, the very “law of Messiah” (תּוֹרַת הַמָּשִׁיחַ) is to bear one another’s burdens (the word for burden is βαρος (“weight,” from which we derive the word barometer). This same word is used in 2 Cor. 4:17 to refer to the “weight of glory” that we will experience in the world to come. Bearing one another’s burdens reveals the glory of the One who bore our sin and shame at Moriah (1 Pet. 2:24).

Salvation (יְשׁוּעָה) is always corporately understood.  We are one “body,” and when one member hurts, we all are affected (1 Cor. 12:26). This is summed up with the saying, kol yisrael arevim zeh la-zeh (כָּל יִשְׂרָאֵל עֲרֵבִים זֶה לָזֶה): “All Israel is responsible for one another.”  The sages reasoned that since the various commandments of the Torah cannot be literally fulfilled by any single person (e.g., the commandments given to the Kohanim (priests) do not apply to the Levites, the commandments given to men do not apply to women, and so on), all Jews taken together are considered a single person. This is why the Ten Commandments are formulated in the singular: “I am the LORD your (singular) God”; “you (singular) shall have no other gods before Me,” and so on.

When we live our lives “as one man with one heart” (כּאישׁ אחד בּלב אחד), we are better equipped to love others as ourselves (Lev. 19:18). Each of us — and this is especially true and vital for those who belong to Yeshua the Mashiach - are connected to one another as ish-echad chadash (אישׁ־אחד חדשׁ) “one new man” (Eph. 2:15). Our welfare, blessing, and even salvation is bound up with one another. Just as the midrash says that each soul is linked to a letter of the Torah, so each of us is linked to the LORD Yeshua who gave Himself for us to reconcile us to God. Each child of God is part of the message of Yeshua’s life and love in this world.

I’ve been somewhat introspective lately, doubtlessly because sickness and suffering tend to direct our focus inward. That seems inevitable. If you stub your toe, your attention immediately is redirected; if you find yourself in a place of physical or emotional agony, you likewise are more likely to search for the source of the pain.

Henri Nouwen (1932-1996) wrote, “I am beginning to see that much of praying is grieving,” and that rings true to my heart. When we pray to the LORD, it’s obvious that we are not imparting to Him any information, since He is omniscient, of course. As King David wrote:

Ki ein milah bilshoni, hen, Adonai, yadati khulah: “For there is not a word in my tongue, but, lo, O LORD, thou knowest it altogether” (Psalm 139:4).

Yeshua taught us that our Heavenly Father knows what we need before we even ask Him (Matt. 6:8), and therefore we do not need to use the “many words of the goyim” (Matt. 6:7) to experience communion with God… 

Kierkegaard once wrote that the purpose of prayer is not to influence God but rather to change the nature of the one who prays. When we get past our words — our chatter, the insecurities that rise from our hearts, the cares of the day, even our hopes and dreams — then we are sufficiently quieted to encounter God. It is then that we can truly listen and begin to apprehend something of God’s glory…. It is then that we can grieve over our lives and the lives of others in naked dependence upon God.

There is a saying that we are “only as sick as the secrets we keep.” That applies first of all to ourselves.  We must get past self-deception and wishful thinking in order to soberly see who we really are…. Earnest, fervent prayer “availeth much,” for it is the means by which we can get away from pretense and appeal to the LORD for help.

But this goes beyond a “solipsistic” connection with God.  Jewish prayer is always in the plural: “Our Father, who art in heaven…” We are not even persons when we divorce ourselves from others, but run the risk of delusion and even madness.  A quote by Scott Peck I read recently touches on this idea to make our brokenness known to others:

Community requires the confession of brokenness. But how remarkable it is that in our culture brokenness must be “confessed.” We think of confession as an act that should be carried out in secret, in the darkness of the confessional, with the guarantee of professional priestly or psychiatric confidentiality. Yet the reality is that every human being is broken and vulnerable. How strange that we should ordinarily feel compelled to hide our wounds when we are all wounded! Community requires the ability to expose our wounds and weaknesses to our fellow creatures. It also requires the ability to be affected by the wounds of others. But even more important is the LOVE that arises among us when we share, both ways, our woundedness.

Source: “The Different Drum” by M. Scott Peck

May the LORD give us all the courage and grace to be vulnerable with someone we can trust in our lives. “Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much” (James 5:16).

While writing the other day I remembered something I had once read regarding mankind’s grandeur and lowliness.  In a discussion regarding capital punishment, the Talmud states: “If a man strikes many coins from one mold, they all resemble one another, but the King of Kings, the Holy One, Blessed be He, made each man in the image of Adam, and yet not one of them resembles his fellow. Therefore every single person is obligated to say, bishvili nivra ha’olam, “The world was created for my sake” (Mishnah Sanhedrin 4:5).  This is why murdering another human being created b’tzelem Elohim (in the image of God) is considered so horrendous.  The sages reasoned that whoever destroys a single soul is accounted as if he had destroyed the whole world; and whoever saves one soul is accounted as if he had saved the entire world.

On the other hand, each of us must remember (as did father Abraham) that we are anokhi afar ve’efer - “but dust and ashes” (Gen. 18:27). While it is true that we are esteemed by God as His image bearers, our flesh (basar) comes from the dust of the ground. Even our beloved Lord Yeshua clothed Himself in such dust, demonstrating the ultimate form of humility and compassion for us (Phil. 2:7).

A chassidic tale says that every person should walk through life with two notes, one in each pocket. On one note should be the words, anokhi afar ve’efer — “I am but dust and ashes.” On the other note should be the words, bishvili nivra ha’olam — “For my sake was this world created.”

Our true worth comes from being loved by the LORD God of Israel. May we all understand how precious we are in the true humility that marks our beloved Lord Yeshua.

Thursday May 22 at sundown this year marks Lag B’Omer, a semi-holiday that commemorates the death of thousands of Rabbi Akiva’s students during the last of the Jewish-Roman wars (called the Bar Kochba Revolt (מרד בר כוכבא‎), c.132-135 AD).  Since Jewish tradition understood the Messiah to be a military leader who would deliver the Jewish people (from the Romans) and usher in world peace, Rabbi Akiva (incorrectly) surmised that Shimon bar Kochba, the leader of the Jewish resistance, was in fact the Jewish Messiah — based on an esoteric reading of Numbers 24:17: כּוֹכָב מִיַּעֲקֹב - “A star shall come out of Jacob” (”Bar Kokhba” means “son of a star” in Aramaic). His tragic endorsement led to widespread destruction of countless Jews and further alienated the Messianic Jewish community from Israel. The eventual defeat of the Jews by Emperor Hadrian perhaps marked the beginning of the Jewish Diaspora from the Promised Land. The province of Judaea was then renamed Palestine and Jerusalem was called Aelia Capitolina.

According to Kabbalistic legend, all of Akiva’s students died during the time of the Omer Count, but Akiva “started over” with a new batch of students. Of these, his foremost student was Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, the purported author of the Zohar (one of the key texts of Kabbalah, or Jewish mysticism). Lag B’Omer is remembered as the Yahrtzeit (anniversary of the death) of Shimon Bar Yochai, who told his followers to rejoice - not mourn - after his death. Today special celebrations are held in the village of Meron (near Safed, Israel), where he is said to have been buried. Every year, thousands of Jews celebrate late-night revelry at Mt. Meron in Israel.

It should be clear that Lag B’Omer is not a Christian/Messianic Jewish holiday, but on the contrary marks a tragic time that ultimately separated the Messianic Jewish community from Israel and contributed to the loss of the Jewish roots of the Christian faith. During this time of “countdown,” chaverim, let us pray that the eyes of many will soon be opened that Yeshua is indeed the Mashiach (anointed King) of Israel.

The Hebrew word devakut (דְּבָקוּת) means “cleaving” and refers to communion with God (in some Jewish thinking, devakut approximates the “beatific vision” in Christian mystical tradition). This word is derived from the Hebrew word davak (דבק), meaning devoted to God (the word for glue is devek which likewise comes from the same root). Davak is used to describe how a man cleaves to his wife so that they become basar echad – “one flesh” (see Gen. 2:24), and is also related to the word for bodily joint (debek), suggesting that we are to stick as closely to the LORD as our bones stick to our skin (Job 19:20). The devakim were those who “held fast” or “cleaved” to the LORD throughout the wilderness wanderings (Deut. 4:4) and all of us are likewise commanded to revere the LORD and cleave to Him (Deut. 10:20).

In the Kabbalah, devakut is considered as the highest mystical step on the spiritual ladder back to God, though (in contradistinction to this) Jesus emphasized that he is the true sullam, or Ladder, to God. Just as Jacob saw the ladder reaching to heaven with the angels of God ascending and descending upon it, so Yeshua told Nathanael that He is the sha’ar hashamayim - the Way into heaven (John 14:6).

Chaverim, יֵשׁ אֹהֵב דָּבֵק מֵאָח — yesh ohev davek me’ach — “there is a friend who sticks (davek) closer than a brother” (Prov. 18:24). His Name is Yeshua, the true Lover of our souls…

Blessed be His Name.

A Jewish tradition is to read a different chapter of Pirkei Avot (פרקי אבות, “Sayings of the Fathers”) for each Sabbath during the Omer Count.  Here is a sample from chapter one:

שמעון הצדיק היה משיירי אנשי כנסת הגדולה.  הוא היה אומר, על שלושה דברים העולם עומד–על התורה, ועל העבודה, ועל גמילות החסדים

Shimon the Righteous was among the last surviving members of the Great assembly. He would say: On three things does the world stand: on the Torah, on the service to G-d, and on deeds of kindness. (Avot 1:2)

Gemilut Chasadim are acts of chesed (love, kindness) that include giving tzedakah (charity), bikkur cholim (visiting the sick), tikkun olam (repairing the world), and many other ways of helping others.

You can read the Pirkei Avot online here.

A great many people think they are thinking
when they are merely rearranging their prejudices.

- William James

Here is something I recently read from the excellent book, Nonsense, by Robert J. Gula (Axios Press, 2007; ISBN: 978-09753662-6-4).

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Are men and women by nature hopelessly muddled creatures? Muddled, yes. Hopelessly, no. Men and women may be rational animals, but they are not by nature reasoning animals. Careful and clear thinking requires a certain rigor; it is a skill, and like all skills, it requires training, practice, and vigilance….

First… some characterizations of the ways people tend to respond think and think. For example:

1. People tend to believe what they want to believe.




2. People tend to project their own biases or experiences upon situations.




3. People tend to generalize from a specific event.




4. People tend to get personally involved in the analysis of an issue and tend to let their feelings overcome a sense of objectivity.




5. People are not good listeners. They tend to hear selectively. They often hear only what they want to hear.




6. People are eager to rationalize.




7. People are often unable to distinguish what is relevant from what is irrelevant.




8. People are easily diverted from the specific issue at hand.




9. People are usually unwilling to explore thoroughly the ramifications of a topic; they tend to oversimplify.




10. People often judge from appearances. They observe something, misinterpret what they observe, and make terrible errors in judgment.




11. People often simply do not know what they are talking about, especially in matters of general discussion. They rarely think carefully before they speak, but they allow their feelings, prejudices, biases, likes, dislikes, hopes, and frustrations to supersede careful thinking.




12. People rarely act according to a set of consistent standards. Rarely do they examine the evidence and then form a conclusion. Rather, they tend to do whatever they want to do and to believe whatever they want to believe and then find whatever evidence will support their actions or their beliefs. They often think selectively: in evaluating a situation they are eager to find reasons to support what they want to support and they are just as eager to ignore or disregard reasons that don’t support what they want.




13. People often do not say what they mean and often do not mean what they say.

To these principles, let’s add four observations cited by J.A.C.Brown in his Techniques of Persuasion:

Most people want to feel that issues are simple rather than complex, want to have their prejudices confirmed, want to feel that they “belong” with the implication that others do not, and need to pinpoint an enemy to blame for their frustrations.

The above comments may seem jaundiced. They are not meant to be. They are not even meant to be critical or judgmental. They merely suggest that it is a natural human tendency to be subjective rather than objective and that the untrained mind will usually take the path of least resistance. The path of least resistance is rarely through reason.

It’s not enough to recall, in some abstract sense, the deliverance of the Jewish people in ancient Egypt, but each Jew is responsible to personally view Passover as a time to commemorate their own personal deliverance as well. Therefore the sages teach: B’khol-dor vador:

B’khol-dor vador chayav adam lirot et-atzmo k’ilu hu yatza mi-mitzrayim

In each and every generation an individual should look upon him or herself as if he or she (personally) had left Egypt.

The kavannah (inner intention of the heart) for the observance of Passover is summed up well by this simple phrase: B’Khol-dor vador. As we partake of the Seder, we must embrace it as our own — as if we were personally there (in Egypt, or at the foot of the Cross) and understand that this mighty redemption was accomplished for my sake, as well as for yours…

We recall the words, bishvili nivra ha’olam – “For my sake was this world created,” while we also recall the words, anokhi afar ve’efer – “I am but dust and ashes.”

For Messianic believers, kavvanah refers to our apprehension of the ultimate deliverance from the bondage of sin and death through the grace and love of the Mashiach Yeshua — our True Passover Offering.

Were you there, at the Cross, where Jesus died for your sins?

כּוֹס־יְשׁוּעוֹת אֶשָּׂא וּבְשֵׁם יְהוָה אֶקְרָא

Kos-Yeshuot essa uv’shem Adonai ekra

I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the LORD.
Psalm 116:13

This verse is often recited during Havdalah (at the end of Shabbat), but notice something a bit odd here. The phrase kos-yeshu’ot literally means “the cup of salvations (or deliverances),” and this has led to some speculation among the Jewish sages regarding (of all things) the number of cups of wine to sip during the Passover Seder…

This verse is a part of The Hallel (Hebrew: הלל‎ “Praise [God]“), a verbatim recitation of Psalms 113-118 used to offer praise and thanksgiving on Jewish holidays (Passover, Shavuot and Sukkot, Chanukkah, and Rosh Chodesh). Hallel is not said on Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur, for obvious reasons, nor is it recited on Purim, since the miracles recorded there did not occur in the land of Israel.

There are different types of Hallel:

1. Full Hallel (הלל שלם, Hallel Shalem) consists of all six Psalms in their entirety (Psalms 113-118 were considered as a single composition). Hallel is recited on all seven days of Sukkot, on Shmini Atzeret and Simchat Torah, on Shavuot, on the first two days of Pesach (only the first day in Israel), and on the eight days of Hanukkah. The Full Hallel is sometimes called “The Egyptian Hallel” (Hallel Mitzrayim) because it was chanted in the temple while the Passover lambs were being slain. This was probably “the hymn” which Yeshua and his disciples sand at the conclusion of the Passover Seder on the night of His betrayal (Matt. 26:30; Mark 14:26).

 

2. Chatzi Hallel (חצי הלל, Half or Partial Hallel) does not include parts of the “Full Hallel”: namely, the first two halves of Psalm 115 and Psalm 116. It is recited on the intermediate days of Pesach and on Rosh Chodesh.

 

3. The “Great Hallel” (Hallel ha-Gadol) is Psalm 136 (some sages include Psalm 135 as well). It is recited at the morning service on Sabbaths and over the fouth cup of wine during the Passover Seder.It begins:

   הוֹדוּ לַיהוָה כִּי־טוֹב כִּי לְעוֹלָם חַסְדּוֹ

   Hodu la’Adonai ki-tov, ki le’olam chasdo

   Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever.

   These words, originally coming from the song King David composed celebrating the bringing the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem (see 1 Chronicles 16:34) are also found at the beginning of Psalms 106 and 107 and at the beginning and end of Psalm 118.

   R’ Yochanan said in the name of Rebi Shimon ben Yehotzedek: There are eighteen days that one recites a full Hallel : Eight days of the Festival of Sukkos, eight days of Chanukah, the first day of Pesach, Yom Tov of Atzeret (Shavuous), and in the Diaspora, twenty days: nine days of the Festival Of Sukkos, two yom tov days of Pesach and two days of Shavuous. – Talmud Arachin

Note: Some of the information used here was derived from Wikipedia, the Jewish Encyclopedia, and the Talmud (Tractate Pesachim 118a, Arachin, etc.).