Rabbenu
A Discussion of Messianic Judaism, the Emerging Messianic Jewish Paradigm, and Related Leadership Issues from the Preoccupied Mind of Rabbi Stuart Dauermann, PhD.
All Contents ©2004-2007 Stuart Dauermann - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Sunday, February 26, 2006
What Do We Owe God?
(The following is a sermon for Parashat Mishpatim/Shekalim, presented February 25, 2006 at Ahavat Zion Messianic Synagogue, Beverly Hills, CA. It concerns what is involved in honoring or failing to honor our indebtedness to God.)
In the special Torah reading for Shabbat Shekalim, Exodus 30:11-16, we find a profound spiritual lesson that is so pointed that we might want to avoid it. That lesson is this: the things we build for God we build out of our sense that we owe him. To the extent that we avoid or ignore our sense of indebtedness, to that extent we will fail to build anything for His Name’s sake.
For too many people, being on the take is all that their religion is about. Too many talk only about being "saved," being "filled with the Spirit," being "forgiven," and being "blessed." Notice: in each case, the emphasis of our spirituality is upon what we receive, what we get out of it.
Today’s special readings challenge these unholy assumptions. Unholy . . . and very common. Unholy, and usual. Unholy, and in many cases, too many cases, descriptive of us . . . you and me.
Today’s reading tells us that when Moses took a census of the people of Israel, every adult would gave atonement money for his soul . . . that there might not be a plague among them when counting them. And this money would be used for the work of the Tent of Meeting.
How are we to explain this?
First of all, Scripture attaches danger to the taking of a census of God’s people. One reason is that there was always the chance that those taking the census would take pride in their numbers and imagine that the people of Israel were mighty enough to be self-sufficient. This would be an implied insult to the God by whose mercy alone we lived, survived and were sustained. Later, King David would get into great trouble for just this reason. He called for a general census of the whole nation from Dan to Beersheba (1 Chr. 21:1). Joab very reluctantly began to carry out the king's command.
Apparently, David was thinking of his own military prowess and successes, and forgot that he was God's appointee, whom the Lord took "from following the sheep." While Joab was engaged in the census, David became deeply conscious of his fault; and in profound contrition confessed, "I have sinned greatly in what I have done." The prophet Gad was sent to him to put before him three dreadful alternatives. David decided to leave it up to God, "Let me fall into the hands of the Lord." A pestilence broke out among the people, and in three days swept away 70,000. At David's intercession the plague was stayed, and at the threshing-floor of Araunah where the destroying angel was arrested in his progress, David erected an altar, and there offered up sacrifices to God (2 Chr. 3:1).
In effect, God was saying to David, "O, so you're proud of how many people you have, are you? Well, I'll tell you what, how about if I take 70,000 back?" Truly, it IS a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the Living God.
But here in Exodus 30:11-16, we learn also that census taking could be a dangerous matter for those being counted.
11 The Lord spoke to Moses, saying: 12 When you take a census of the Israelite people according to their enrollment, each shall pay the Lord a ransom for himself on being enrolled, that no plague may come upon them through their being enrolled. 13 This is what everyone who is entered in the records shall pay: a half-shekel by the sanctuary weight — twenty gerahs to the shekel — a half-shekel as an offering to the Lord. 14 Everyone who is entered in the records, from the age of twenty years up, shall give the Lord's offering: 15 the rich shall not pay more and the poor shall not pay less than half a shekel when giving the Lord's offering as expiation for your persons. 16 You shall take the expiation money from the Israelites and assign it to the service of the Tent of Meeting; it shall serve the Israelites as a reminder before the Lord, as expiation for your persons.
In fact, they were required to pay an expiation for their persons, what other translations call "atonement money for their souls." What is going on here?
The atonement money was ransom money of a sort, an acknowledgement to God they were only alive because of God’s mercy to them. The money was a tangible way of saying, "God, I realize I owe you—I owe you my very life. This money is my acknowledgment of the fact that I only live because of your mercy to me. I owe you, and this money shows that I understand that."
It is important to note that they gave this money for a specific purpose, to be used to enhance the worship of God at the Tabernacle. We ought not to miss the fact that the money was given for the glorification of God. Clearly the people were to know that they owed God not only their very lives and all the blessings of life as part of the people of Israel, but also owed him an investment in His glorification in the midst of Israel, where He was to be served, honored, obeyed, and worshipped. We owe Him not only thanks, but also glory.
This idea of owing someone something is very deeply ingrained in human culture. In preparing for this sermon, I was thinking of children and how they hold us to our promises. There is probably not a parent alive who hasn’t heard one of his children say at one time or another, "But you promised! But you said!" God help the parent who says that she is going to take here children to Disneyland, and then forgets about it or gets distracted. The children never forget, and because "You promised! You said!, you owe them.
The Torah reading for Shabbat Mishpatim records that kind of reality in our relationship with God. And if we are prepared to take our relationship with our children seriously, and follow up on when we have promised them something, ought we not to take seriously something we have promised avinu shebashamayim, our Father in heaven?
In chapter twenty-three of Exodus, Hashem reminds our ancestors of what He has done for them. Among other things, he reminds them of the exodus, and tells them to keep Passover as a memorial of his redeeming them from slavery; he reminds them to keep Shavuot and Sukkot as harvest festivals, celebrating His provision for them of food and sustaining them in life.
He also promises them his future protection [vv.20 ff], and his provision of food, fertility, health and a homeland. Clearly, the children of Israel owe their heavenly Father—big time. And, as they were about to enter into covenant with the Holy One, as was pro forma for such ancient treaties, God first reminds them of what He has done and is committing to do for them.
This accounting of the mighty deeds of God reminds us of what happened last week when Moses told Jethro his father in law of some of the mighty things God had done. In today's parasha, we can notice other similarities between the two accounts as well We saw that when he came to accept the fact that Hashem alone was God over all other gods, Jethro ate a meal with Aaron and all the elders of Israel, a covenant meal. In this week’s reading as well, Moses, Aaron, and his sons Nadab and Abihu, and seventy of the elders of Israel ascend into the very Presence of God to eat a covenant meal with Him.
Also, just as Jethro made offerings last week when he entered into covenant with God, so Moses directs youths of the Children of Israel to offer up burnt offerings and bulls as peace offerings to Hashem. Even more solemnly, blood from these offerings is sprinkled upon the people as a sign that they are taking a blood oath, that their lives would be forfeit if they do not keep the promises which they are entering into.
If you read chapter 23 closely, you will see many of the things that God promises in this covenant, As we mentioned, these include protection, food, fertility, health and a homeland. But what do our ancestors promise God? We find the answer to that question twice in this chapter, in verse three and again in verse seven: "Moses came and told the people all the words of Hashem and all the ordinances, and the entire people responded with one voice and they said: ‘All the words that HASHEM has spoken, we will do.’ . . . He took the Book of the Covenant and read it in earshot of the people, and they said, ‘Everything that Hashem has said, we will do and we will obey!’" And then Moses dashed them with blood of the covenant—a gory and visible sign that they had just sworn on their lives that they would obey all that God had said.
I want to return for a moment to the idea of the census and the atonement money that had to be paid by every Israelite.
Jonathan Kaplan, an associate of our friend Jason Sobel, and one of the brightest young scholars in our movement, says this about the tax in their weekly Internet offering, "The Set Table."
Shabbat Sheqalim commemorates the annual Temple tax which was "required of every one in Israel" and announced on the first day of Adar in antiquity (m. Sheqalim 1:1). It occurs on the new moon of Adar when it falls on a Shabbat or on the Shabbat preceding the new moon of Adar when it falls on a weekday. This year Shabbat Sheqalim occurs on February 25/27 Shevat.
The Maftir reading from Exodus 30 describes the census which God commanded of the Israelite people. The census was to be taken to see who would be responsible for contributing a half-shekel as expiation money. After its donation this money would be assigned "to the service of the Tent of Meeting" (30:16). The Haftara reading from 2 Kings 12 describes the implementation of this tax during the reign of King Joash for the repair of the Temple.
There are two striking aspects to the practice of the half-shekel. First, people over the age of twenty are to be enrolled and to pay this tax not as a duty of citizenship or a membership fee in a club. Rather, the half-shekel is an expiatory offering designed to assuage the obligation they incur by being enrolled in the records. The half-shekel expresses their commitment to the worship of God. If they pay the half-shekel, their account with God is satisfied. If not, they risk a plague, a divine punishment. This point challenges us to remember that our financial commitments to our local synagogues are not merely membership dues but obligations we incur to God for insuring the ongoing service and worship of our communities.
Second, the obligation to participate in this offering is the same for everyone regardless of their station in society. "The rich shall not pay more and the poor shall not pay less than half a shekel when giving the LORD’s offering as expiation for your persons" (Exodus 30:15). Certainly for the rich such a contribution is not significant, but it emphasizes that they have no greater stake in the maintenance of divine worship than anyone else. All are equal in God’s community.
And, I would add: not only are all equal, but all are equally obligated. All of us owe God.
Reviewing our lesson then, consider the following questions:
1. Why were the children of Israel indebted to God?
2. Do any of those debts still apply to us today?
3. On the basis of today’s Newer Covenant readings (Romans 12:1-3; 1 Cor 6:19-20), what other bases do we Messianic Jews have for owing God? What do we owe Him according to these texts?
4. Are we still bound by the promise made by our ancestors, "Everything that Hashem has said, we will do and we will obey?" Give reasons for your answer.
5. What is your response to the following statement: "Yeshua obeyed God so that we wouldn’t have to."
6. Looking back over your life, in the light of today’s readings and discussion, to you owe God anything?
7. Is your life going to be any different as a result of this lesson, and if so, how?
Finally, we return to what we said at the beginning of our lesson:
In the special Torah reading for Shabbat Shekalim we find a profound spiritual lesson that is so pointed that we might want to avoid it. That lesson is this: the things we build for God we build out of our sense that we owe him. To the extent that we avoid or ignore our sense of indebtedness, to that extent we will fail to build anything for His Name’s sake.
So, if you agree that you owe God, what are you building for His name’s sake?
posted by Stuart Dauermann @ 10:02 AM
6 comments
What do we owe God? Maybe the question would be put better, "What don't we owe God?"
Your think tank has done much to raise important questions missed by the christian attempt to get Jews out of synagogues and into churches that meet on Sundays or Shabbat. One might ask, "Would Chrysostom have any need to preach a sermon calling on Jews who believed in Jesus to separate themselves from the worshipping Jewish community today, or has the messianic movement helped attain that goal?"
The Messianic Jewish Movement is so diverse and in flux, that it is not possible to answer your question decisively. There are Messianic Jewish leaders who are regularly involved with the wider Jewish community and whose congregants do likewise, and there are some Messianic Jewish leaders whose only contact with Jewish life is their own congregation and association--and the same is true of their congregants.
As for Chrysostom, I suggest you read Oskar Skarsaune's brilliant "In the Shadow of the Temple," where he points out that Chrysostom's attacks on Jewish life were motivated by the fact that many Gentile Christians were strongly attracted to synagoguge life and community. Interesting, no?
My closest associates and I view ourselves to be part of the Remnant of Israel, and that,*within Israel* rather than *outside of Israel.*
Shalom.
Thank you for your response.
Certainly one is free to view one's self and one's identity in any way they please. Sometimes this is serious, such as some Orthodox Jews considering themselves "the remnant" and not concerned about Reform, Conservative, or other "non-Jews" (in their estimation), to the comical, as in the old Jewish comedy album "You Don't Have to Be Jewish" and the "Mama, Look, I'm a Captain" skit because the guy bought a small boat.
If one uses the definition of being involved with the "wider Jewish community" as being part of the Jewish people, why couldn't a Jewish convert to Christianity in a regular church also claim such a status on account of such involvement? Couldn't a Jewish convert to Christianity in a church attend high holiday services in your context and consider themselves "Messianic Jews"? I suppose that definitions are slippery and identity, like the immunity idol in Survivor, is up for grabs. We can choose for ourselves how we want to be identified, whether or not the larger extant community views us a member or not.
There is a common misconception imbedded in your posting. There are people who are "Messianic Jews" who do not practice Messianic Judaism. Similarly, there are people who call themselves Conservative Jews whose practice does not reflect Conservative standards.
The kind of Messianic Judaism we espouse calls for integrity and consistency in engagement with Jewish life and community, which goes beyond a smattering of engagement, as in going to High Holiday services and an annual seder. However, there are other Messianic Jews who do not practice such Messianic Judaism, but who retain the right to so identify themselves.
It is neither our intention nor are we so presumptuous as to deny them that right.
There is a common misconception imbedded in your posting. There are people who are "Messianic Jews" who do not practice Messianic Judaism. Similarly, there are people who call themselves Conservative Jews whose practice does not reflect Conservative standards.
The kind of Messianic Judaism we espouse calls for integrity and consistency in engagement with Jewish life and community, which goes beyond a smattering of engagement, as in going to High Holiday services and an annual seder. However, there are other Messianic Jews who do not practice such Messianic Judaism, but who retain the right to so identify themselves.
It is neither our intention nor are we so presumptuous as to deny them that right.
If I am interpreting your previous comment correctly, any Jewish convert to Christianity is free to identify themselves as a "Messianic Jew" no matter what Jewish practices they follow or how much they participate in Jewish community. Is that correct?
Have you examined what is at the root of a person's desire to identify themselves as a "Messianic Jew" at all? If one is either participating fully in a Church, or is involved in a community that identifies Jesus as deity, why not simply use the tried and true label of "Christian"? Do you think there is a general sense of shame in being so identified? I really am trying to understand the "lay of the land" as it were.
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