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.

Israel Trip - Day 7

We are back home in the US now, but I am going to try to pull my thoughts together from the various learning opportunities we had on the rest of our trip.

Day 7 was our first full day in Galilee, where Jesus conducted most of His ministry.

We began the day at the foot of Mt. Arbel, reviewing the context for Jesus coming onto the scene. Why now? Why this era of history?

In John 1:5, we read, “The light shines in the darkness . . .” This passage helps us understand that God’s timing is intentional. This was, up to this point, the heaviest time of persecution for Jews in history, but it was also the time of the deepest level of knowledge and commitment to God’s word. That knowledge is also part of the light shining in the darkness and sets up the stark contrast between Jesus’ mission and the prevailing sentiments of the time.

Mark 1:15 tells us, “The Kingdom of God is near . . .,” but this is not about timing. That word for near is about intimacy . . . as in drawing your wife near and making a son. So, people were seeking to live out Torah to a massive degree. It’s into this highly biblically literate time that Jesus bursts onto the scene to continue the story that is already going, not to rewrite it.

Yes, God acted in grace and power to bring Israel out of Egypt.

Yes, the Lord is reigning forever and ever over this whole world.

And now, Jesus wants to know: Am I Lord of your life? Will you dedicate every ounce of who you are to following me?

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Mt. Arbel made us respect the disciples' cardio!

Looking around and seeing which point was highest, we knew where we were headed for the morning, and we began our leg-burning ascent up Mt. Arbel. RVL remarked that these trips have changed his mental image of Jesus to a man with much larger thighs!

So, if Jesus was just continuing the same story that the Jews were already a part of, why did they have such a problem with him? We paused in a cave to answer that question. It started with stories to illustrate the level of persecution the Jews faced during this era—horrific instances of torture like flaying alive and boiling in oil. Thousands of Jews faced these fates for keeping their faith publically.

And it brought up a question for them.

When Israel was taken into captivity, their understanding was that it was a result of being unfaithful to God. When they returned, they dedicated themselves to righteous paths, which they were clearly following, as noted by the persecution they faced.

So why—now that they were living as God wanted—were they suffering more than before?

This line of thought is what led the Jews to believe in a final judgment time and a place for those who have acted against God—Hell. It was what gave them the courage they needed to withstand the inhuman treatment they received, and it was present in several recorded speeches of Jews at the hands of their persecutors. And under the brutal Roman rule, there couldn’t have been more desire for fiery justice to rain down on these oppressors.

Yet Jesus said to love your enemies.

And pray for those who persecute you.

This is where their problem with Jesus arose.

In the Jewish system, they had worked out the idea of who would get to sit in judgment of sinners, and it was the first person who had been sinned against—Abel when he was murdered by his brother Cain. Abel the son of Adam.

In Hebrew, the son of Man.

Now fast forward to the story of a lame man being lowered through a roof into the room where Jesus was teaching in order to be healed. Instead of healing his body, however, Jesus says, “Son, your sins are forgiven,” knowing, I’m sure that this would generate a reaction from the religious leaders.

When the teachers of the Torah questioned Jesus’ authority to do what he did, he said,

“So that you might know that the Son of Man has the power to . . . FORGIVE, I say to this man, take up your mat and walk.”

Forgiveness. Not judgment.

All the mental pictures of our captors finally being the ones to suffer . . . all the stories we’ve told our children and grandchildren: Don’t worry, Nadav. Someday God will sweep these Romans away and burn them for the dishonor they bring to His name . . .

Poof.

Jesus says they’re gone.

The Kingdom is about emptying ourselves, not preserving what’s ours.

Love, not hate.

Weakness, not strength.

This is why Jesus’ message clashed so much with the religious Jews of His day.

Our days in Galilee were about exploring the nuances of Jesus’ explanation of the Kingdom of God to the various cultural and religious groups of the area.

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The Synagogue at Capernaum

Exploring “The Triangle” of Jesus ministry took us past Eremos Topos (likely the site of the Sermon on the Mount), through Bethsaida and Chorazin, and finally to Capernaum—the Harvard of Torah teaching and learning. Over time, two competing schools of thought had developed among the Pharisees. The followers of Shammai stuck to a quite literal interpretation of the Torah, holding up the Shema as the greatest commandment: Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might. They tended to emphasize the commands about holiness and purity. The zealots were buoyed by such teaching.

The followers of Hillel believed that another Levitical commandment fell just below the Shema: Love your neighbor as yourself (from Leviticus 19:18). This command was about preserving life or enhancing the existence of another human being. The Hillel school believed that call trumped other commandments preventing Sabbath work, for example. Their understanding of the importance of preserving or enhancing life is called Pikuach Nefesh.

In His own teachings, it’s clear that Jesus sided more with the teachers and followers of Hillel. In the town of Capernaum, the standards of what made someone clean or unclean would be well known. Agents of uncleanliness included bodily fluid, leprosy, and touching anything dead. Yet, in this very town, Jesus healed a perpetually bleeding woman, cured a leper, and raised Jairus’ dead daughter. Not only did He declare His belief in Pikuach Nefesh by doing so, but He also showed that in Him, we are made clean.

That is why, when he is questioned by the Pharisees, about the Greatest Commandment, Jesus answers,

“’Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” He elevates the second commandment of loving our neighbor onto the same level as Loving God.

In his answer, Jesus affirms the important mission we bear of bringing Shalom to the Chaos of this world, and that is the enduring line of God’s story that we were tracing during our entire trip.

Israel Trip - Day 6

We had wifi issues at the hotel last night, so this post is a day late. My apologies!

Day 6 was an extremely challenging day that started in Qumran, home of the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Essenes. I had always labeled the Essenes as religious separatists who were totally misguided in their thinking, but our time in Qumran also helped us appreciate the deep dedication they had to the word of God.

Caves 4 & 5 where key Dead Sea Scrolls were found

The Essenes were a priestly group who began as an alternative to what they believed were the corrupt Jewish priests of their day. They were of the line of Melchizedek (see Genesis 14)—the same line from which Christ himself would come. They believed strongly in God's covenant with Israel at Sinai in which He called them to be a Kingdom of Priests who extend God's reign by putting Him on display.

They shed the humanistic influences of Hellenism by giving away everything and sharing with those in need, all in their Qumran community way out in the Judean Wilderness of the West Bank. If would-be Essenes could make it for two years in that setting and prove their dedication, they would be accepted into the group. Their teachings significantly influenced both John the Baptist and Jesus. Everything they did, from their careful memorization and copying of scripture to the way they sought to love their neighbor, was to become the Word in Flesh.

Top of our hike

To get a sense of the Essenes' commitment, we took a long hike up to the mountain top over Qumran where we considered where they got their incredibly strong dedication. It was easy for us to see how Essenes had to be all in if they were going to dwell in this region, climb these hills, and study God's word relentlessly—all in 100+ degree heat! As happens so often on this trip, it was the words from the Bible that left the strongest impression on me from the top of that mountain.

RVL turned away from us, cupped his hands, and bellowed out one of my favorite passages from Isaiah 40:

"Comfort, comfort my people," says your God. "Speak kindly to Jerusalem; And call out to her, that her warfare has ended, That her iniquity has been removed, That she has received of the LORD'S hand Double for all her sins." A voice is calling, "Clear the way for the LORD in the wilderness; Make smooth in the desert a highway for our God." Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain.

The Essenes believed that living as a Kingdom of Priests would bring the Kingdom of God that Isaiah describes. But do we mean it too? Every valley lifted up? Every mountain and hill made low? This will require total commitment! Not just on Sundays. Not just once in awhile. 

But in every fiber of our being and in every single thing we do.

As the echo of God's words dissipated from the air, we were asked if we were really all in.

I am.

It will be incredibly hard, as we are getting the tiniest inkling of with our trekking through the deserts. But it will expand God's territory and allow Him to fill up more and more of the world. Time and time again on our trip, we've seen how a small number of truly dedicated followers can change the course of the world, and I can't begin to imagine the power of a whole community like Holland Christian Schools going all in and the impact it would have.

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After making our way back down the mountain, we had lunch and began our journey north to Galilee. Along the way, we stopped at a collection of wheat fields and shepherding areas to explore some of the metaphors Jesus used and understandings people had for those aspects of life.

The wheat almost ready for harvest

Farm plots were serious business in Israel. After decades wandering in the desert, the people were presented with the opportunity to grow their own food, and each family got a portion of the ground to which they were to bring Shalom. In return, it would sustain them and the whole community. These inherited plots were called nachala, and we've all been given our own versions of a piece of the world to tend: our job, our family, our recreation, and creation itself . . . and it's our job to identify the chaos that exists in that plot and bring shalom to it.

When we do that well, we will say with the Psalmist, "My boundary lines have fallen in sweet places." (Psalm 16:6)—meaning that we feel the satisfaction of living in God's will.

We also talked about the practice of not harvesting the corners of the fields—instead, leaving those for the poor. This implies using what we produce directly for others. It's a first fruits idea.

Not some leftovers.

Something right off the top.

I'm mulling over many ways in which our school can dedicate a portion of what we do to help others. It would be a fascinating opportunity to expand the Kingdom of God!

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A similar "stable" to the one of Jesus' birth

Finally, we hiked up to a cave that would have served as a stable, and we got a real sense of the surroundings into which Jesus would have been born. 

No golden straw scattered about.

Piles of animal dung everywhere.

Spiders crawling on the walls.

A manger of stone with any number of animal bacteria infecting it.

It's a far different picture than the "prettified" version of Christmas we celebrate . . . because Jesus' birth was already a massive expression of Him stepping into chaos to deliver shalom. He left heaven for this? These are the lengths he's willing to go to bring the Kingdom?

I often wondered as a kid why the disciples, who had the Son of God sitting in their midst, had so much trouble understanding what he said to do. In that cave, it dawned on me that it probably wasn't that they didn't understand what to do.

It's just that it's so hard.

To be all in.

To continually put others first.

But when we do . . . the Kingdom of God will come exploding out over the whole world! The Hebrew word for that exploding is pratz. Let's burst forth eagerly in our own walks so that we can take the next step in making space for God.

Space that He will come and fill.

Israel Trip - Day 5

Today, we were at En Gedi.

En Gedi is an oasis in the desert, not far from the shore of the Dead Sea. It is the one place we've been in the wilderness that is bursting with life. As we walked, we saw marmots and ibexes, along with many birds and plants around the small river and pools that form at En Gedi.

The tallest fall we saw

This is mayim chaim, or living water, to the Hebrews because God made it. It comes naturally. When rain falls in the hills of Bethlehem/Hebron some 18 miles away, it will soak into the limestone. Over a long time, that water makes its way through the limestone layers, being absorbed over and over again . . . until it hits a chalk line which won't absorb it. Then it follows that line to its next available point of limestone. Eventually, at En Gedi, some of the chalk lines end in the walls of the canyon and the water simply drips out in the form of over 1,000 natural springs that create the river and the waterfalls we saw. This whole process takes somewhere between 1,500-2,000 years to unfold, so it's very likely that rain from when Jesus walked the earth provided the waters we played in today. How cool is that!

The first part of the morning was just about experiencing the joy of finding a stream, a pool, or a waterfall around every bend after so much time in the desert . . . understanding biblical metaphors in a new way. 

Another of the falls where we refreshed ourselves

We stopped at a particularly large waterfall to receive our meatiest teaching from RVL, and he said that like we are to be City Gates, Standing Stones, and Broom Trees for others in their desert times, we are to be En Gedis as well. We then did a powerful re-enactment from Jesus' day. As I mentioned yesterday, between the days of the ancient Israelites and Jesus' time, the various feasts and sacrifices became highly ritualized.

Succot, sometimes called the Feast of Tabernacles, happened in the fall and was one of the Feasts that would bring pilgrims to Jerusalem, swelling the size of the city to 2 million. On Succot, Jews remember God's provision and the harvest, and it was also when the temple was dedicated upon completion.

The people were to take a palm branch, a myrtle branch, a willow branch, and an ethrog (large green fruit) . . . bind them together and waive them, shouting "Hoshana!" (or God save us). It's where we get Hosanna. For six days this would happen once each day in the temple open court area. The priest would come to the altar and pour out an empty vessel into it, with the people shouting. He would then go down to the river outside the city walls, fill the vessel with living water and bring it back to the altar. With the people ever shouting, Hosanna! the priest would pour the now full vessel into the funnel of the altar that received drink offerings.

On the seventh day of Succot was the Hoshana Rabbah or the "great hosanna." On this day, the priest would march around the altar 7 times with the water, letting the screams and the palm-waiving build to a fever pitch. We did this together at the pool, yelling our hosannas as RVL walked to the water and then circled around in our midst. At the conclusion of the 7th circle, the crowd would fall silent, waiting for the priest to pour out the water reminding everyone that God is faithful, and He will provide.

It is in that precise moment of silence that Jesus asserted himself from within the crowd. We read in John 7:37-38:

Now on the last day, the great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried out, saying, "If anyone is thirsty, let him come to Me and drink! He who believes in Me, as the Scripture said, 'From his innermost being will flow rivers of living water!'"

From within us will flow living water. 

Not from a stream. 

Not from a waterfall. 

But from inside each of us because of the very presence of God! This is how we can be En Gedis to other people going through desert times in their lives.

It was just another powerful moment of seeing scripture come to life in a whole new way . . . in an experiential way, rather than just an intellectual one. I know that will be something all of us take home from this trip.

I was unable to go on the afternoon hike today that continued on another ridge overlooking a different stream because the desert got to me. I was feeling pretty woozy from the heat. But it gave me a chance to be thankful for small En Gedis like a picnic table to rest my head on and sleep, an air conditioned bus, electrolyte-infused jelly beans, and the care and help of others. I'll put away my feelings of guilt and instead give thanks for experiencing the kind of relief that David felt and that Jesus promised: the living water that flows from within each of us when we dedicate our lives to Christ.

Israel Trip - Day 4

Today, our 3rd full day in the desert, was a day of contrast.

In the morning, we drove into the Negev to Arad. This town was settled by Canaanites and in existence 800 years before Abraham, but we know that Abraham met these people, walked their streets, and interacted with them. It was powerful to know that we were walking those same paths.

In the bet av at Arad

We explored a few different points about the culture of that time, starting with their patriarchal, communal living framework. 50-60 people might live in one bet av, or "father's house" together. It's why Christ says, "In my Father's house are many rooms." The oldest male in the group was the Patriarch, and it was his duty to see that all his family's needs were met. When the Patriarch died, he passed that responsibility—along with all of his resources and possessions—to his oldest son to become the new patriarch. This was not about male-domination or oppression. This was about caring, protection, and supplying all that's needed. It had a very positive connotation for members of the bet av.

Next was the concept of ga'al. In the Christian tradition, we translate that word to "redeem," but it is actually not a religious word at all. If any member of the bet av was ever in trouble—say from kidnapping or racking up debt—it was the job of the patriarch to do use every possible resource in his possession to bring that member back. That might mean selling everything he had at a greatly reduced value for quick cash, but each member of his family was worth it. Once the troubled one was back safely in the bet av, the whole group would celebrate . . . not so much a welcome-back party, but a celebration of the providing and sustaining power of the patriarch. This is what the story of the Prodigal Son is about as well. When the father's house is made whole, it's good for the community.

Of course, God is our ultimate Patriarch, but there are three "first-born sons" of God referred to in the Bible. The first is the nation of Israel. The second is Jesus Christ. And the third is the church today. God has passed his resources to us to create bet av and practice ga'al, so that the whole world may be brought back into the family.

It strikes me that we need to do a better job celebrating redemptive moments when they happen—not to make ourselves feel good, but to build community and remember the sustaining power of our Father.

The culture of Abraham's day also placed an extremely high value on welcoming the stranger. Even today, it would not be uncommon for a bedouin to give away his lunch to someone he just met. Not to welcome someone or make a stranger more important than yourself is to bring shame to your entire family in this culture that is ultra-aware of shame and honor as driving forces.

Abraham was amazing at his efforts to welcome strangers. His actions were so well known in the surrounding areas, that when he went to inquire of a city's king about buying a burial cave for his family, the king told him that Abraham would get the cave for free "because he was a prince of God"—a God not even worshipped by that king. In welcoming strangers, Abraham put God's name on display and brought glory to it. This is what we are called to do as well!

The most famous account of Abraham's welcoming is the story of the three strangers who came to visit him. He ran out to greet them (something totally indecent for an old man to do). RVL said that our equivalent would be your grandmother walking into the room topless for Christmas dinner! Abraham also washed the strangers' feet—another shameful thing for an old man to do. Then he called for 65 lbs. of his finest flour to be used to make bread for them, again breaking tradition . . . and he let his guests eat first, which was always reserved for the patriarch of the house.

So, in this incredibly honor/shame-based culture, Abraham was willing to shame himself over and over for the value of welcoming the stranger. 

This is a picture of bringing shalom to chaos. 

Would we meet this standard? Are there ways we should use our own resources to welcome outsiders? To help the marginalized? To make the bet av whole again?

There are weighty implications for us in our personal lives and in Christian education as we consider these aspects of shalom-bringing.

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The morning session drew to a close in the temple of Arad, which was a miniature replica of the one in Jerusalem, and used until Hezekiah commanded that all temples outside Jerusalem be closed down. In this temple court, RVL delivered a powerful narrative.

RVL teaching us about the covenant with Abraham

It started  with an explanation of covenants: they aren't just promises. They are agreements that establish a permanent, unbreakable relationship. God came to Abraham in his tent to establish one such agreement. Since this wasn't a covenant between equal parties, the greater party got to set the terms. 

God's terms were simple:

1. I will give you land.
2. I will give you descendants as numerous as the sands of the sea shore.
3. Through one of your descendants, the whole world will be blessed.
4. And all you have to do is love me and follow me perfectly.

As the lesser party, it was Abraham's job to provide the animals for the sacrifice that would complete the ritual. God instructed him to bring a cow, a goat, a sheep, a pidgeon, and a dove (which became the 5 animals used for sacrifice by the Jews). Abraham did as he was told and began to process the animals as was appropriate for a covenant. He killed and cut each animal in half and then laid out the two halves of each animal facing each other in a line. As the blood drained into the area in between the animals, it would make a big puddle.

The practice of the covenant was to have the first party walk through the puddle barefoot, soaking their feet in blood, to say, "If I violate any of my part of this agreement, may I be killed and my blood spilled like these animals." God did that with Abraham.

Then it was Abraham's turn as the lesser party to do the same, but he knew . . . and we know . . . that his terms were impossible to keep. Love God and follow Him perfectly? There's no way. So right as Abraham would have raised his foot to step in the blood, God said, "Wait! I will do this for you."

God took on the death vow for both sides of the covenant . . . and at that very moment, he sentenced His son, Jesus, to die.

All of the worship sacrifices of the Jews are made to remember this covenant. At 9am and 3pm every day, they would sacrifice an animal and throw its blood against the altar to say, "God, we remember your promise to us! Don't forget us either!"

The sacrificial system was never about paying for something. It was about remembering the covenant of grace that God established at the very beginning.

In the centuries to come, sacrificial worship grew highly ritualized, and the priest's shofar (ram's horn instrument) would blow in a particular rhythm at 9am and 3pm each day, with the whole city falling silent as an animal was sacrificed in the temple. Silence to remember God's covenant of grace.

. . . One day in Jerusalem at 9am, three men were crucified outside the city walls. The middle one had been beaten so badly, he would have died from the wounds without the crucifixion. For six hours they hung, and the day grew particularly dark. At precisely 3pm, the priest in the temple blew the shofar to signal the afternoon sacrifice.

And in the moments of silence that followed, the man on the middle cross screamed out through the gurgling, choking lungs he had left:

"IT IS FINISHED!"

And it was.

Jesus had made good on God's terms in His covenant to Abraham. 

Of course we couldn't live perfectly for him. But God is a God of ga'al. He will pay any price to bring us back into His house.

Our group gathered in a tight circle in the temple at Arad, weeping together at the immensity of God's love for us and the lengths He is willing to go to bring us home. We sang hymns. We said the Shema. We dedicated ourselves to be people of ga'al and patriarchs of bet av.

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The afternoon brought us to Masada.

Masada from below, before we hiked up

The place is perhaps best known as a zealot stronghold against the Romans, made famous by the 70's movie and miniseries, but it was originally the favorite vacation palace of Herod—the Herod ruling at the time of Jesus' birth.

Herod was the richest man to ever walk the face of the earth. He owned every single spice-producing tree there was, and he controlled the spice trading routes. He himself was a man of the desert and an amazing athlete, an olympian in the javelin. His personal income was three times the gross national product of the country, and about 60% of all the workers in Israel worked for him.

Herod also set new standards for brutality. He killed thousands of people on multiple occasions. He tortured 75,000 of his subjects. He threw dinner parties at which he killed his favorite wife by tightening a garrote around her throat more and more with each course that was served as the guests watched in horror. He did the same to his son by placing him in an iron cage and lowering him into a fire periodically throughout the meal. It was said that everyone hated Herod. Even his own family.

Remains of the plastered walls with their intricate Herodian masonry

But on this rocky mountain overlooking the Dead Sea, he built an opulent 25-acre palace—complete with two massive outdoor swimming pools, seven indoor pools, 17 cisterns, massive storage rooms for food, intricate mosaics, and a staff of 5,000-10,000 people to keep it all running smoothly. The rock walls were covered in gleaming white plaster inside and out so that Masada would shine like a jewel in the sun from miles away.

Herod stockpiled enough water and food at Masada to supply 10,000 men for 10 years in case he ever fell under attack or siege. His throne room was built to make the King loom large, while the one entering would feel small.

But for all of this wealth,

and power,

and violence, 

Herod spent his time alone in his chamber while at Masada. He had no friends. He was suspicious of everyone. His own wives hated him. 

There's no flourishing in that.

There's no shalom in that.

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Today was a day of contrasts. 

On one hand, we had the picture of nomadic Abraham, giving up 65 lbs. of flour to welcome three strangers. We had the example of God giving up everything to bring us back to the bet av. These acts were ones of shalom.

On the other hand, we have a man of immense wealth and power—more successful and more strong than anyone else in history.

And he died alone, rotting from syphilis . . . and no one mourned.

God's Kingdom comes in ways totally antithetical to what our society traditionally values. It's about making ourselves low, welcoming others when it's uncomfortable to do so, and caring more about the family than we do ourselves.

That is love. That is grace. That is shalom.

Israel Trip - Day 3

How can the days keep getting better?

An example of the tough climbing route up Timna

Today was one of the more physically exhausting things I've ever done. We hiked and climbed up 3,000+ foot Mt. Timna in the Paran wilderness to get a sense of what it would have been like for Moses to listen to God's instructions and climb Mt. Sinai to meet with him. It was 100 degrees and treacherous terrain. But as we emptied ourselves physically, we understood more and more what God demands of His people when He says that He wants everything we've got.

"Moses! Come up here!"

RVL's shouts echoed off the mountains as we stood in the valley below, and we started off—in all our modern hiking gear, driving home how much more amazing it would have been for an 80-year old man to make this trek in sandals, not once, but four separate times! Oh, and Mt. Sinai is actually twice as high as Mt. Timna!

RVL delivered a powerful lesson at one of our stops on the way up about Moses meeting God at the burning bush and God telling Moses his name—I AM . . . I AM in charge . . . I AM all you need . . . I AM enough for this moment . . . I AM, and you are not. In ancient times, your name wasn't just something people called you. It was your whole reputation, identity, and character.

The lesson at the bush

That lesson gave a whole new perspective on God's command not to take His name in vain. It's not about swearing—although that may be a part of it—it's about anything that empties God's name of meaning, anything that doesn't put Him on display in all His glory for the world to see. As the Hebrews said chillul hashem. Instead, what we must do what Christ prayed in the Lord's prayer, kiddush hashem, we must "hallow" God's name. We must add great meaning to it by the way we live and by the way we treat others. I'm struck by how this is so much more powerful of a way to teach our children about this commandment.

When we reached the summit, we learned how God's covenant with Israel, given at Sinai replicates a marriage ceremony, and the 10 commandments are the wedding vows. The truth dawned on all of us that these were never meant to be a legalistic set of don'ts that God would use to determine who earns salvation and who doesn't. Instead, they are a beautiful expression of the kind of loving relationship a groom wants to have with his bride. The Bible was never about salvation by works! God didn't change his mind when He sent Jesus and say, "Now I'll save my people by grace!" 

It was always grace.

Always grace.

And we live out our loving relationship to God by keeping the vows we took on our wedding day. What a thought!

The Holland Christian Ebeneezer

We were challenged to make a decision on top of Timna—to follow God and make His name known to all the world as a Kingdom of Priests. That's our mission as believers. We set up an Ebeneezer to mark that decision, adding to the pile of stones that our students laid down on their trips two weeks ago. 

Then we were introduced to tzitzits, the ceremonial knots worn by Jews to remind them that they are called to be a Kingdom of Priests to the world. Accepting that call as well, we were each given our own tzitzit to mark us as God's Priests.

RVL readying us to receive our tzitzits

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In the afternoon, we toured a replica tabernacle and learned about how when it was done, the high priest prayed a 7-part prayer, echoing God's 7 days of creation. The tabernacle was about making space for God here on earth. That is our call too. 

How are we making space for God in our jobs? In our various subject areas? In our relationships?

That's what priests do. They make space for God, and He fills it up.

What an amazing day!

So powerful to do this trip with the people who we work with!