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.