Israel Trip - Day 9 (The Morning)

The Jordan River.

No other geographic feature is mentioned more frequently in the Bible than the Jordan, and it's where we began our hiking on the morning of Day 9.

There are no records or indications in any of the research on the ancient Near East that people worshipped the river itself. Instead all of the references to it are as a barrier to be crossed. Given that reputation, I expected a wide, deep, daunting river that could sweep us away if we weren't careful with our footing. 

Maybe at certain times of the year, but not today.

Our spot on the Jordan

Instead, we were greeted by a pleasant little stream. From a sheerly practical standpoint, had the Israelites found it difficult to cross the Jordan on their way into the Promised Land, they simply could have waited until the drier season for an easy path. That's certainly the way our Western minds would look at the situation.

But as you can read in Joshua 3, the Jordan was at its flood stage when the Israelites crossed over (And that's no joke. See the video above.), so there must be a reason—a more narrative or symbolic reason—for why they proceeded to this place at this time.

RVL helped trace a recurring narrative for us, one that involves water at key times in the Bible. There's a six-part framework for this narrative that begins and ends with the same element, thus taking things full circle:

1. It starts with Chaos (represented by untamed water)
2. God is present 
3. God speaks
4. Shalom comes to the Chaos
5. God's people do something out of step with His command
6. The situation reverts back to Chaos

In creation, for example, we see this framework playing out when initial Chaos is represented in the formless waters. God's presence hovers over the waters in His Spirit (or Ruach in Hebrew). God speaks the words of creation, "Let there be . . ." and Shalom comes about in the beautiful, amazing world that springs up. The Fall occurs with Adam and Eve's sin, and the world gets thrust back into Chaos. 

That Chaos builds until the Flood, and we see the framework play out again with Noah. The next time this narrative comes out is when the Israelites are standing at the shore of the Red Sea on their flight from Egypt. And about 40 years later we see the same pattern when God's people are standing at the banks of the Jordan.

1. There's the Chaos that comes with the enemies and uncertainties waiting for them in the Promised Land on the other side of this flooded, rushing river.
2. God is present in the Ark of the Covenant carried by the Levitical Priests.
3. God speaks to His people through Joshua (see Joshua 3:9-13), essentially telling them to, "Get in!"
4. Shalom comes as the raging water is stopped and the Israelites all make it safely through. They set up an Ebenezer to commemorate and share the story with their children and future generations. They are committed to God, and they conquer the city of Jericho by following His commands.
5. Achen led the Israelites off course by disobeying God's command for dealing with the people they encountered in this new land.
6. That resulted in defeat and Chaos once again for Israel.

But beyond this narrative framework, what is going on in the story of the crossing of the Jordan? God stopping the waters is not so much about His people getting across. Remember, they could've just waited for the drier season. Instead, it's about Him claiming Lordship over this new, fertile land they are about to experience. The natives of this area worshipped Baal and credited him with the abundance of crops it produced. God wants to make sure that His people know from whence their help comes. 

In His previous water-saving story with Israel at the Red Sea, God parted the waters for them. They needed Him, and He acted as a way to build their faith. But they have now spent 40 years in the wilderness—a land of Chaos, but also the place where God draws His people close to Him. They have taken their marriage vows for the new covenant at Sinai. They have received manna for sustenance and learned what "just enough" means, like the sheep in a shepherd's flock. And now they stand on the banks of the raging Jordan, and God says:

Get in!

As a people who have matured in their faith and their relationship with God, He calls on them to demonstrate that faith by getting their feet wet. I was there for you. Will you now put my name on display for the world? There's a common teaching that emerged in the Rabbinic tradition that says, "God acts when our feet are wet."

God wants to know if the nation of Israel is all in. It's the same thing He wants to know of us today. And we need to recognize that His true might—His true Lordship and power—won't be revealed to the world until we are able to answer a resounding, "Yes!" to His question. Anything less, and He won't act in the same way.

I thought about that for a long time on the banks of the Jordan. Do my actions and attitude really have some say or control over the way and the timing of the coming of the Kingdom of God? And I realized that when I compare my version of the Christian life to that of Christ and His disciples, I'm nowhere near as willing to be uncomfortable or risk as much as they were. How could twelve nobodies from some backwater towns in Israel live lives whose effects are still shaping the world today?

Because they were willing to be a whole lot more all-in than I am.

What would the world today look like if I was truly willing to get uncomfortable in doing my part to bring the Kingdom and put God on display? Am I willing to use my platform as the leader of a school community to this end? Am I willing to risk upsetting people—even people I care about—to bring Shalom? Am I willing to put my own wants and desires second to others'? 

Am I all in?

These were the kinds of questions RVL challenged us with on the banks of the Jordan. Were we willing to take our lives in a different direction, a more dedicated one? If so, we could plunge ourselves into the water, literally getting all in. Not so much a baptism, for our belonging to God's family was not in question, but a mikvah—a commitment of our devotion to a new path.

Doing so was an emotional experience for all of us, and one that bound us tightly together—certainly as Christians, but especially as co-laborers in the work of Christian education at Holland Christian Schools. Sitting there in the waters and listening to the songs of praise that we were lifting up presented a little glimpse of what the Kingdom of God feels like when His people are united by a powerful commitment to a common purpose.

It was a powerful morning to be sure.

Israel Trip - Whose Image Is on It?

Rather than writing about a whole day of our Israel experience this time, I wanted to use this entry to highlight the way our trip encouraged me to look at the familiar stories and parables of scripture in a whole new light—one that affected me deeply.

In my lifetime, I've probably had the "Render unto Caesar . . ." story taught to me or preached to me at least 10 times. In every single one of those circumstances, the story was framed as a way to justify Christians submitting to governmental authority or paying taxes. I always assumed that's what it was about.

Until now.

When you have the chance, read the short passages from Matthew 22:15-22, Mark 12:13-17, and Luke 20:19-26. This story takes place on the Temple Mount during Passion Week as some of the religious leaders and some of the pro-Rome Jews—two groups who disliked each other as a rule—were abnormally joining forces to see if they could catch Jesus in a statement that would let them have Him arrested. You know, the enemy of your enemy is your friend.

You also probably know the story.

"Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not? Should we pay taxes or not?" they asked.

Now, there's a couple things to note here. The word "taxes" would be better translated as "tribute," which is a form of payment made by a conquered territory to the conquering empire. Although this tribute has some shared characteristics with what we think of as taxes, there is an added connotation to this payment. It was about reinforcing the societal order—about the conquered people formally acknowledging the greatness of their conquerors.

In the case of Caesar Augustus, he worked very hard to make sure that his father was declared to be a god—which would, in turn, give him the ability to claim that he was the son of a god and deserving of worship by his subjects. In fact, in the Roman Empire the words Lord, Savior, and Gospel (good news) could legally only be used to refer to Caesar and his deity. 

*On a side note, the angels used all of these terms with the shepherds on the night of Jesus' birth to reinforce that He was the true Son of God, not Caesar (Luke 2:10-11). How cool is that?

So, by paying tribute, the people in the conquered lands of Rome were accepting Caesar's claim and his rule. Most conquered people joyfully did so, knowing that life would be much easier and more comfortable for them as a result. But from the beginning, faithful Jews were resistant to this idea. In fact, they resisted so strongly that Caesar gave them a special dispensation: rather than having to pray to him, they could pray for him to their God.

So, when Jesus was asked, "Is it lawful . . ." the Pharisees were referring to Jewish law (the Torah), not Roman law. If you know your 10 Commandments, you know that "You shall have no other gods before me" is right at the top of the list. Caesar claimed he was a god, and paying tribute meant that you accepted his rule over you and his deity. Acknowledging another god would therefore be in direct violation of Jewish law—hence the interest of the Pharisees in Jesus' response.

But not paying the tribute would be in violation of Roman law, so the Herodians (Jews who supported Roman rule and a more Hellenistic way of life) were also interested in what Christ would answer. If He was deemed treasonous, He could certainly be arrested and executed.

Rather than respond immediately, however, Jesus asks them to bring him a Denarius so that he can look at it. The Denarius, or Tribute Penny, was the coin used to give tribute to Caesar, and conquered subjects would purchase it for that specific purpose. When they bring Him the coin, Jesus asks them a question:

Whose image and inscription is on it?

The front of the coin had Caesar's picture, and the inscriptions combined to read, "Caesar Augustus Tiberius, son of the divine Augustus." Remember that Caesar wanted his dad declared a god? This coin reinforced his claim of divinity, and giving it as tribute meant you agreed. Think of this: Caesar went to a lot of trouble minting these coins so that conquered subjects could buy them, only to give them back to him in some symbolic gesture that was meant to reinforce the fabricated narrative of him as the supreme ruler and a god.

So Jesus' question was simple for the Pharisees and Herodians to answer. 

Whose image is this? That's an easy one! It's Caesar's.

And here comes the line we all know so well: Jesus replied, "Render to Caesar what is Caesar's and to God what is God's."

And this is the point where I always heard the explanation about Christians submitting to earthly authority or paying their taxes.

But what about Jesus' question: Whose image is this? What does that have to do with his response?

What if what Jesus is really saying goes more like this:

A coin? You're getting all fired up about a coin??? Listen, Caesar went to all this trouble to make these tribute pennies with his picture on them. Now he wants you to give them back to stroke his own ego. Go ahead! . . . But what has God's image on it? . . . Give that to Him because that's what He is truly interested in.

What has God's image on it? 

Us! 

Don't we refer to ourselves as image-bearers of God? We are living, breathing "pictures" of the Most High. We are His Kingdom of Priests, called to put him on display for the whole world to see.

It's our whole lives that God wants us to give to Him. Not some coin. Not some measly tribute penny. Everything we are. Everything we do. Our thoughts. Our relationships. Our care for the hurting and marginalized. All of it.

I don't know about you, but I find this view of the story a whole lot more inspiring than a reminder to submit my taxes by April 15th every year.

So take a moment and reflect. Are you putting God on display? Are you actively seeking out ways to bring Shalom into the Chaos of this world? Are you carving out more square inches of the Kingdom for God to come and fill? 

Examine your life.

Whose image is on it?

Israel Trip - Day 8

Ruins of Gamla on a jagged peak

On the 8th day of our trip, we spent time in the Golan Heights learning about the Zealots. We visited the ancient city of Gamla in the northeast region of Galilee. At its height, Gamla had 5,000 people, making it the largest city in the area. The zealots as a group of people took their cues from the Old Testament stories like Joshua that told of God's people violently cleansing the land of evil.

For over 100 years, starting around 50 B.C., the zealots led uprisings against their Roman oppressors, while also (in their minds) defending God's honor by doing violence to Jews who collaborated with Pagans. For these zealots, the coming of the Kingdom of God meant final liberation. It meant that all those who dishonored God by mistreating, torturing, and killing His people would at last get what was coming to them—judgment by fire. It was the belief that kept them going and gave them the strength they needed to hold fast to their convictions.

When stories of a new, powerful rabbi started circulating—one who could perform miracles and even raise the dead—the zealots had to be excited. Perhaps this was the man who would help usher in the long-awaited judgment. But Christ's message was about bringing the Kingdom through love, forgiveness, and sacrifice. It was a contrary message that rang harshly in the zealots' ears. But when we bring the Kingdom the right way, it will stand forever. It's vital that we pass along that great story to our children and our students.

The synagogue in Gamla

In Gamla, we took time in the ruins of the synagogue to learn what a worship service would've been like for Jews in that day. It would begin with families going to do Mikvah (the ritual washing) at the pool outside the synagogue. This was also a social time as the people filed into the synagogue and took their seats.

When the service started, the Chazan (leader of the service) would walk in and lead the people in the Shema. Much differently than we do in our Western churches, people would all pray aloud at their own pace. This forces you to concentrate on the words you're saying and make them your own. The Shema was followed by the Amida, or morning prayer, taken from I Chronicles 29. 

After the prayers, the Chazan would go to the Torah Closet, take the scroll out, break the seal and open the scroll. He would then walk the scroll around the synagogue with the people singing and dancing, all anxious to touch the scroll and then kiss their hands—echoing the words of Psalm 119:103 "How sweet are Your words to my taste! Yes, sweeter than honey to my mouth." The joy the Jews take in the word of God is inspiring.

Each week, there is a different set of passages assigned for reading in the synagogue service—some from the Torah and some from the prophets and Psalms. All told, the readings would be 10-12 chapters long and last for 30-40 minutes, and most of the attendees would know the passages by heart. Following the reading, someone would sit in the Moses Seat and give the deresha—a short explanation or application of the readings lasting for about two minutes. It's interesting how the time allotted for reading and preaching have totally flipped in church today.

At this point, anyone who could trace their lineage back to the Levite priests could give the Aaronic blessing to those in attendance: The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make His face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up His face to you and give you peace. Finally, although not likely in Jesus day, those in attendance would chant together, "Hazak! Hazak! V'nitkhazek!" or "Be strong! Be strong! And give each other strength!"

Going through a service like this gave me a deep sense of connection to the roots of our church today and a rededication in my own heart to know the word of God better—to hunger and thirst for it the way the Jews did.

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Later that day, we visited Caesarea Philippi at the foot of Mt. Hermon. There is a large, incredibly deep cave here—out of which flowed a spring that the ancient Canaanites believed came directly from Baal and granted them fertile crops. Once Alexander the Great conquered the area and left some soldiers behind, that site became the center of Pan worship with three separate temples erected on the site. Every two years, Pan worshippers from all over would make pilgrimages to this spot to pay tribute to the Gates of Hades that led to the underworld and its power. It was a place of the most disgusting rituals you can imagine . . . one that would make even the most desensitized people uncomfortable.

And the Gates of Hades will not overcome it.

Christ came to this horrible place with His disciples and asked them who people said he was and who they thought he was. When Peter answered that He was the Christ, the Son of the Living God, Jesus agreed. And then He pointed to this vile, filthy, unholy place and said, ". . . and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it."

In the midst of total chaos, God wants to bring Shalom. Into the darkest recesses of the world, Christ wants to build His church. 

The gospel was always meant for those who are lost.

And when we live as Shalom-bringers, we bring the Kingdom . . . 

Square inch by square inch.

And the power of this Kingdom is so great that not even the most vile monuments to the Evil One will be able to withstand it. 

But remember, that power comes in weakness and humility. Not through violence. Not through judgment. But through our willingness to wade into the chaos and offer up all that we hold dear for the good of others.

No one sets out to be seduced by the goat-god. He is disgusting and loathsome. But it's what he promises that seems so sweet. It's the small compromises that we think will yield happiness or fitting in. 

We prayed there, at Caesarea Philippi, for our students who are going off to college and will be facing a boatload of temptations and promises to lure them off the path of righteousness. We prayed Hazak, Hazak, V'nitkhazek because it's as a community of believers that we are able to remain strong together.

We're called to be people who live in chaos . . . who live in the vine valleys . . . in the Caesarea Philippis of the world. 

But that's hard.

It's much easier to isolate ourselves . . . to be people of the burbs.

But as Christ said, If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it. What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul? Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul?

What will we give in exchange for our souls?

Hazak.

Hazak.

V'nitkhazek.