The challenge to live the Messianic life is not unique to our day and age—in fact, the obstacles of life that cloud our understanding of the ways of God have proven to be a formidable foe since the beginning.

To the believers of Galatia, who were trapped by their own doctrines and misconceptions about the Messianic life, Paul wrote,

“With Messiah I have been crucified, and no more do I live, but Messiah lives in me; and that which I now live in the body, I live in the faith of the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me…” Galatians 2:20

This is the foundational truth of the Messianic life, without which we have no hope: our life is no more—it is the life of Messiah we now live.  When we think and act contrary to who Messiah is, we are living contrary to who we truly are.  We live the Messianic life by thinking as the Master thought, walking as the Master walked, and completely laying down our lives for the Father’s service… just as the Son laid down His life for us.

Like the believers in Galatia, each one of us sees life through the filter of our own personal opinions and experiences.  As disciples of Messiah, however, we need to come to a place where we are willing to set aside our opinions and experiences—even the ones we really like and that seem to be working for us—if they do not line up with the life of Messiah and the Word of God.  If we remain in opposition to the Word, living according to our own desires and ways of doing things, we will be hindered in our ability to become the effective disciples of Messiah that we were remade to be—we will be unable to live the Messianic life.

When we choose God and neighbor over self, we are choosing to live the Messianic life.  It is the most selfless life imaginable, and yet its rewards are without measure.  “For you died, and your life has been hidden with the Messiah in God.  When the Messiah—our life—is revealed, then we,too, will be revealed with Him in glory” (Colossians 3:3-4).  If we are to truly be Messiah’s disciples, this is the life we must choose today—a life that is totally and completely “sold-out” to the Master… a life wholeheartedly devoted only to Yeshua.

The above was excerpted from my book, “Being a Disciple of Messiah”.

I invite you to share your thoughts on this subject, below.

This paper is related to the “Unholy War of Names” post, but is provided here so that it may have its own discussion thread.

For discussion specific to the “Unholy War of Names” article and the name of Yeshua, please scroll to the bottom of that page. For discussion specific to “The Name” paper, please use the form below.

The most obvious and symbolic element of Chanukah is the ’chanukiyyah (commonly, though inaccurately, called the m’norah), used for the commemoration of the alleged miracle. The chanukiyyah is usually a nine-branched candelabra designed to hold eight Chanukah candles, one for each night, plus the shamash (meaning “servant”). In typical fashion, the shamash is lit, then used to kindle each Chanukah light in turn: on the first night, one light; on the second night, two; and so on, until all eight lights are kindled on the last night of the Festival.

The chanukiyyah, while apparently ancient, is not explicitly prescribed by the Rabbis. Neither is the use of candles as Chanukah lights. Indeed, most of the Talmudic references are to oil lamps. For example, Mas. Shabbath 23a, discusses which kind of oil is best for kindling the Chanukah lights (evidently, it’s olive oil).

But what is truly intriguing about the traditions surrounding the chanukiyyah, is that the most common method used today for kindling the Chanukah lights was originally meant only for the “extremely zealous.” You may be surprised to know that according to Mas. Shabbath 21b, only one Chanukah light per household is “demanded,” and any increase in the number of lights is merely an indication of one’s “zeal.” According to the Rabbis, each household must light at least one Chanukah light per night; for the “zealous,” one light nightly for each member of his household; and for the “extremely zealous,” eight lights—with Beth Shammai saying to reduce the number by one each night, and Beth Hillel maintaining that the lights should progressively increase each night up to eight.

In short, there’s more than one way to kindle the Chanukah lights, and the traditions and rituals are not quite as fixed as we have been led to believe.

Some other Talmudic instructions concerning the Chanukah lights include the exceptions for placing the lamp inside the home (it’s supposed to be outside), how far from the doorway it is allowed to be, how high above the ground is acceptable, and who must pronounce a blessing and what that blessing must be.

The Talmud also includes prohibitions against using the Chanukah lights to perform the natural functions of a household lamp—i.e., casting usable light, providing heat, or transferring a flame from one lamp to another. This, of course, renders the Chanukah lights useless for all but one task, and it is an extremely limited (though charming) one, at that. Additionally, it is from these prohibitions that the tradition of the shamash arose. Since the Rabbis forbid the use of the Chanukah lights for natural purposes, the shamash—not being one of the Chanukah lights itself—was added as a ceremonial convenience.

Should we not find it curious, then, given the extraordinarily non-authoritative nature of the Rabbi’s opinions, that something as innocuous as the shamash would garner such profound meaning in Messianic and Jewish Roots circles? Though it is an entirely contrived, completely rabbinic innovation, the concept of the shamash really “preaches”—especially to a Messianic audience.

The mundane purpose of the shamash notwithstanding, it is easy to make the leap to a brilliant representation of Yeshua: a set-apart “servant,” yet elevated (as on some modern chanukiyyot) above all others, setting them aflame with His holy light, so that they in turn may shine that light, and brightly penetrate the darkness of the world around them. Indeed, “the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve” (Matthew 20:28), and He is “the true Light, which enlightens every man” (John 1:9)! Without a doubt, it is a glorious portrait of our Master—even more so when we imagine that this picture has been amazingly “hidden” for centuries in plain view of His own Jewish people. But the fact of the matter remains: when we “see” Yeshua in the chanukiyyah, we are “seeing” Him in a “Rabbinical [institution]” (Mas. Shabbath 24a)—we are being inspired by a man-made prohibition against nature and reason. As disciples of Messiah, we have an abundant treasure of spiritual richness in the legacy of the Scriptures. Can we not honor and observe a holiday established by our forefathers without camouflaging and disfiguring it with more spiritual meaning than they intended?

Does the chanukiyyah’s shamash represent Yeshua? It certainly can, if we choose to see it that way. But if we do, isn’t it possible that we’re just “seeing things” where they ought not to be? Or, at least, making too much out of something that was never meant to get our attention?

Think about it.

Intrigued? This was just an excerpt from the Appendix of my book The Real Story of Chanukah.

In my book about The Real Story of Chanukah, I included a lengthy endnote about Christmas. For those interested in one Messianic Jew’s opinion, here it is in its entirety.

Since this is a significant issue among Messianics and Christians in pursuit of the “Jewish roots” of the faith, I feel that it is worthwhile to offer my perspective on Christmas. Personally, I have no problem with Christians celebrating Christmas. For sure, there are seriously pagan issues with the holiday and its accompanying icons (these facts are widely documented, and, since this is a book about Chanukah and not Christmas, I do not feel compelled to elaborate here), but as far as the Luke 2 tradition is concerned—where the sole and central purpose of celebrating Christmas is the recognition of Yeshua’s birth—I have no problem with it whatsoever.

Where I caution Christians in their observance, however, is where the line of paganism becomes encroached upon. Though “Christ”—Messiah—may be an inspirational portion of Christmas, this theme is often shrouded or lost among the manner in which it is celebrated in our society today. It’s also fair to point out that the holiday itself is pagan in origin, not at all inspired by the Scriptures. Though as believers, some have tried to put “Christ” back into Christmas, this is essentially the same thing as trying to impose Yeshua onto the chanukiyyah [the so-called Chanukah “menorah”] (which has its own set of issues as well—see the Appendix for a more substantial discussion on this topic). Forcing Messianic (or Christian) ideals and ideas onto traditional rituals and elements (especially those of dubious origin), can be fraught with difficulties. Of course, with regard to Christmas, we cannot ignore the underlying question of why believers desire to celebrate the Messiah’s birthday in the first place. Celebrating birthdays is simply not a practice found in Scripture.

With regard to my own relationship to Christmas, as a Jew, Christian rites and holidays in general have no place in my life or the life of my family. Celebrating Christian holidays is simply not where I find common ground with my Gentile brothers and sisters. There are many, far more substantial areas in which I as a Messianic Jew can walk in agreement with all believers in Yeshua—Christmas is just not one of them. Nevertheless, I do not begrudge Christians their observance.

What do you think about this perspective? Sound off below (don’t be naughty—be nice!).

“A blogger writes about how one of Judaism’s holiest days ended, for her, in a strip club, while elsewhere a guy strolls into a tattoo parlor requesting a Star of David. Two women exchange wedding vows in a Jewish ceremony, and hipsters toss back bottles of HE’BREW, The Chosen Beer…. [Moses] couldn’t have seen these Jews coming.”

This is how a CNN article begins, showcasing the so-called “New Jews” and the ways they express their Jewishness: with flagrant violation of Torah, and a heart ablaze for assimilation. They are “making [Judaism] and its culture work for them and others in a time when, more than ever, affiliation is a choice.” It’s an astute observation by Ms. Ravitz (the article’s author), and one that should make us shudder: it’s happening again—as it has continually since the beginning—Jews choosing… as if we had a choice. The Scriptures testify against us:

• Before we took the Land, we chose the daughters of Moav, and joined ourselves to Baal-P’or (Numbers 25:1ff).
• After we took the Land, we chose the daughters of the survivors, and willingly served their idols (Joshua 23:12-13; Judges 3:1ff).
• Our kings chose foreign women, and through disobedience, allowed their hearts to turn after foreign gods (1Kings 11:1-2).
• We chose to reject Adonai’s covenant and imitate the nations around us, causing us to be removed from the presence of Adonai (2Kings 17:13-19).

And the real story of Chanukah begins with our willful assimilation, when…

• …we chose to be “breakers of the Torah, and [seducers of] many people, saying: ‘Let us go and make an alliance with the Gentiles all around us….” (1Maccabees 1:11, NAB)
• We chose to “[cover] over the mark of [our] circumcision and [abandon] the holy covenant;” (1Maccabees 1:15a, NAB)
• and we chose to “[ally ourselves] with the Gentiles and [sell ourselves] to wrongdoing.” (1Maccabees 1:15b, NAB)

Since the beginning, we have been choosing for ourselves, following our own lusts, desires and fears… and every time, we have made the wrong choice.

As heart-wrenching as it is to admit, there is nothing “new” about the “New Jews”—they are only the most current evidence that Israel is continuing to choose the ways of the nations and the flesh over the ways of Adonai. Perhaps not every Jew is a gay, drunken, tattooed voyeur… but that doesn’t mean we are not complete degenerates, constantly in search of new ways to please and comfort ourselves in a world that dares us to be different. No, for the Jew—indeed, for every disciple of Messiah—there is but one true choice: follow Adonai, and revile assimilation… be different, or die.

Though the real story of Chanukah begins with the lament for Israel’s infidelity, it thankfully ends with a message of hope: a few faithful ones can lead the way to restoration. Now, more than ever, we need to set aside our fears and the temptations of the flesh, and follow only the politically incorrect ways of our Master. May we refuse to fit in, and instead stand out and influence our people and the nations around us. Let us boldly proclaim the message of turning away from ourselves, and choosing only to run after Him who grants everything we were ever truly after.

“I have caused to testify against you today the heavens and the earth; life and death I have set before you, the blessing and the cursing. So you: choose life—so that you will live; you and your seed—to love Adonai your God, to listen to His voice, and to cling to Him (for He is your life, and the length of your days)…” D’variym (Deuteronomy) 30:19-20

I always have mixed emotions about Thanksgiving, because on the one hand, at its heart are two of my most favorite things: family and food! But on the other hand, it not only signals the beginning of the commercial winter holiday season (in which we are bombarded by merchandising and inducements to unnecessarily part with our finances), but, to a degree, it’s not really my holiday. I am only a second-generation American-born Jew, so before WWII, my ancestors knew nothing of the American Thanksgiving holiday (though it is indirectly related to our own Autumn Feast, Sukot). So, while I enjoy Thanksgiving on a familial, individual, and American level (because I am very thankful indeed for this country), it also reminds me that I—as my ancestors have been for centuries—am a stranger in a strange land… a man caught between worlds.

So, I have resolved that, as a Messianic Jew, for myself and my family, our Thanksgiving tradition must include at least two vital aspects. First, it may not, in any way, be performed or enjoyed with the gusto and enthusiasm warranted by a Feast for Israel (i.e. Passover, Shavuot, Sukot). That is, we must not permit it to compete in our hearts and memories with the days and seasons appointed by Adonai. I assert this not in passive rebellion against an American holiday, but simply out of respect and in order to elevate the days that define Israel as a people—despite our dispersion amongst foreign lands.

Our second, non-negotiable family tradition is that we remind ourselves of the origins and purpose of the holiday (which, by the way, does not happen to be an excuse to overeat, then fall asleep watching football—as pleasurable as that may be). It is the festive memorial of those who overcame adversity in the hopes of finding freedom, and it serves as a reminder—especially during these uncertain times—to be thankful for the many and bountiful blessings from Adonai… the luxuries we so arrogantly consider as basic necessities (indoor plumbing? refrigeration? central heating and cooling? need I say more?).

“Always rejoice; continually pray; in every thing give thanks…” (1Thessalonians 5:16-18) Much more than merely good advice, this is the outlook we need to have today if we hope to endure what may lie ahead tomorrow. Those first pilgrims did not at first have the basics of food and shelter. Would we stand firm in our hope in God if everything were suddenly (or slowly) taken away? Would we still find cause to rejoice, have faith in prayer, and be thankful to our God if we had nothing? In whom is our hope? In whom is our joy? In whom do we trust when we don’t have enough (or when we think His provision is lacking)?

So, whether you are partaking in, ignoring, dreading, or wishing you had someone with whom to spend this American harvest holiday, I encourage you to keep this foremost in your mind: salvation comes not from the strength of our own hand, the wisdom of our own mind, nor the sweat of our own brow. We live, and eat, and dwell in comfort and safety only by the provision of the One to whom all glory, honor, praise and thanksgiving is due.

Come, [let] us sing to Adonai! [Let] us shout to the rock of our salvation! [Let] us come before His face with thanksgiving! With music [let] us shout to Him! For Adonai is a great God, and a great king over all gods. In His hand are the deep places of earth, and the strong places of hills are His. His is the sea, and He made it. And His hands formed the dry land. (Psalm 95:1-5)

Most of us toss around the word “friend” as casually as we lob our dirty socks toward the laundry basket. Friends—we think—are buddies, chums, or pals; people we “hang out” and “do stuff” with, or know from work or school. We call, text, and Facebook with their disembodied avatars; we meet them for lunch, accompany them on errands, and invite them over for dinner. We “go to church” with them, attend Bible studies, partake in fellowship meals—even pray, cry, laugh, and perform ministry together. But on what basis can we consider all (or any) of these acquaintances true friends? Surely, there must be more than mutual, interactive enjoyment, the sharing of common interests, or mere situational convenience. By what standard should we call one another “friend”?

Proverbs 18:24 partially reveals the character and test of true friendship… although not in the way we might expect. It says, “there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother,” meaning that as close as one can be to his own flesh and blood, true friends are even closer. They will never leave our side, nor turn their backs on us—no matter what. And yet, this is only half the story, because the underlying word here for friend doesn’t mean “buddy” or “pal”—not even “partner” or “companion.” On the contrary, it’s what a “friend” is supposed to be, yet hardly ever is—what we all secretly hope for, yet very rarely find. The word friend, here, is a form of the word a’havah… the Hebrew word for love.

So, it is not simply friends who stick closer than a brother, but “loves”—ones who are covenanted together with us, as if our life were their own.

Now, what if we can extend this definition of “friend” to what the Master teaches us in John 15:13? He says, “Greater love has no one than this, that anyone may lay down his life for his friends…” his “loves”!* Yeshua willingly laid down His life for us—sacrificed Himself—because we are His friends (His “loves”), but He also commands us to love one another in exactly the same way: “This is my command: that you love one another, as I loved you” (15:12). When we roam through life without being intensely committed and devoted to other people, we are incapable of loving Yeshua (Jn.14:15)! Loving Yeshua is not about Bible studies and worship services—it’s about inconveniencing ourselves and living unselfishly and self-sacrificially toward our “loves” every single day. This is the kind of love that demonstrates Yeshua’s love to the world, because our actions declare that we are His (Jn.13:35).

It is a rare thing indeed to walk through life with those faithful few who not only share our standards, values and beliefs, but actually know us at our core (and still want to be with us), are physically there for us in our struggles (not just “I’m praying for you!”), are willing to confront and restore us in our sin, and are quick to sacrifice their own comforts, schedules and resources because they genuinely care for our needs. We wrongly and dangerously believe that these attributes are reserved for God—or worse, the hired clergy we keep on our spiritual and financial payroll. If we ever hope to expand the Reign of God beyond our anemic, isolationist, dysfunctional circles of religiosity and self-serving spirituality, it’s time to get serious about our relationships in the Body. We need to apprehend the basics of love and make commitments not to institutions, organizations and ideologies, but to one another. Only then will we finally begin making real “friends”… and becoming true “loves” of Yeshua.

*“friends/loves” here is from philos, cf. Jn.21:15ff, Ja.2:23 (2Chr.20:7, Is.41:8)

This “Word from Kevin” was previously published in Messianic Jewish Issues.

What great nation is there that has a God so near to it, that He would command His people to party for seven days straight? Sukot, the final feast of the year, is a week-long, unabashed celebration of Adonai’s provision, protection and salvation. It’s simplicity and joy lends itself to an unparalleled revelation of Yeshua!

Audio, which was available here from October 13-20, 2011, is no longer available here. Please go here instead.

For more about Sukot and Israel’s calendar

In this powerful, intense, live teaching presented during the Yom Kippur season, Kevin Geoffrey presents the Scriptural mandate for both the holiest day of the year and the daily life for disciples of Messiah: deny yourself. Taken to heart, this message will not only change the way you view Yom Kippur, but it will radically alter the course of your life.

Audio, which was available here from October 6-9, 2011, is no longer available here. Please go here instead.

Yom Kippur… the single holiest day on Israel’s calendar—and it is best observed by doing absolutely nothing… the Master Yeshua, our great high priest, has already done it all! The Yom Kippur command to deny oneself is also the heartbeat of those who live for Messiah, in whom this awesome day is fulfilled. For more about “Deny Yourself” and Yom Kippur:

The authority and power of the Scriptures rests solely on our belief that they are literally the written word of God. So what happens when we translate those God-inspired words from the languages in which they were originally written? Indeed, though many of us read the Bible effortlessly in our native English, English is certainly not the native tongue of Scripture. Though we may revere our English bibles as the infallible word of God, the fact is that Hebrew (or sometimes Aramaic, and Greek in the “New Testament”) is the original language of Scripture, and when we neglect it, we risk imposing our own flawed points of view on God’s word.

Though in large part, translators do a fine job retaining the essence of Scripture, there are times when English simply does not do a passage justice. Either through mistranslation due to bias or ignorance, or merely by the limitations of the receiving language, important details can become obscured, replaced by ideas from the reader’s experience or particular frame of reference.

Yom T’ruah

Take, for example, a typical translation of Numbers 29:1, “Now in the seventh month, on the first day of the month, you shall also have a holy convocation; you shall do no laborious work. It will be to you a day for blowing trumpets.” (NAS) This passage, along with Leviticus 23:24f, is the extent of the commands for the so-called “Feast of Trumpets”—called Rosh Hashanah in Judaism—also known as Yom T’ruah in Scripture.

It is universally accepted in Judaism that on Rosh Hashanah, the shofar (i.e. ram’s horn) is to be sounded repeatedly in fulfillment of the command. What is fascinating, however, is that despite the overwhelming agreement on this point, no Hebrew word for trumpet, or horn, or anything even closely resembling it appears in the text of Numbers 29:1 (or Leviticus 23:24, for that matter).

The word “trumpets” has therefore been added to the text by the translators in order to render the single word t’ruah as “blowing trumpets.” A literal translation of the passage, however, would likely not render t’ruah as “blowing” at all, but as “shouting”—as seen in the case of Joshua 6:20 (when the people shouted and the walls of Jericho fell). Imagine how our celebration of the “Feast of Trumpets” would change if instead of “a day for blowing trumpets,” Yom T’ruah were translated as “a day for shouting”—or even more accurately, “a day for loud blasts [of sound]”?

Check out the Messianic Mo’adiym Devotional for Israel’s Feasts, Fasts and Appointed Times

While this example illustrates how a translator can be influenced by his frame of reference—in this case, the historical and normative practices of Judaism (though, to be fair, the shofar has been known to make t’ruah on occasion; see Leviticus 25:9)—other important instructions can be camouflaged simply by a poor choice of words.

Dedicate a Child

Consider this common translation of Proverbs 22:6, “Train up a child in the way he should go, Even when he is old he will not depart from it.” (NAS)

It appears at first glance that the Proverb is encouraging parents to provide their children with proper instruction; that educating children—arming them with correct and adequate information (the word of God, for example)—is what is necessary to ensure their success in adulthood. If we want our children to walk with God as adults, the most important thing to do is make sure they are being nourished by the Scriptures: they need to read the word at home, commit important passages to memory, study it with others, and hear it preached at the congregation.

Yet the underlying Hebrew says something quite different.

The phrase “train up” is translating a single word, chanak (here, it’s in the form, ’chanok), which we see elsewhere in passages such as 2Chronicles 7:5, “Thus the king (Solomon) and all the people dedicated (another form of chanak) the house of God.” (NAS)

Chanak is also at the root of a related, Scriptural word, which is more widely known as the name of the Feast of Dedication, that is, ’Chanukah.

Taking these linguistic facts into account, we begin to see a much more complete picture in Proverbs 22:6. Now we are exhorted to “Dedicate a child in the way he should go…” revealing that it is not so much teaching a child about “the way he should go,” but instilling in him a profound and deep attitude of commitment to that “way.” What a significant discovery from the underlying language, considering how even we as disciples of Messiah struggle with the concept of commitment and dedication!

And You Shall Repeat Them

In one final example, also concerning the importance of passing on the ways of God to a new generation, consider the V’ahavta, recited in synagogues every Shabbat all around the world. Deuteronomy 6:7 says, “You shall teach them [the commands] diligently to your sons and shall talk of them when you sit in your house and when you walk by the way and when you lie down and when you rise up.”

Once again, the concept of teaching or instruction appears to be the directive being given, yet the Hebrew tells a slightly different story.

“Teach them diligently” translates a form of the word shanan. This same word is used again a few chapters later in Deuteronomy 32:41, which reads in part, “…I whet (shanan) My flashing blade…” (TNK) To “whet” is to sharpen something by repetitive contact, as one would sharpen a sword by striking it repeatedly against a stone.

What does this tell us about the “teaching” of the commands in Deuteronomy 6:7? That it is not merely the quality of our instruction to the next generation (i.e. “diligently”), but the quantity; and not just the quantity, but the means and the method of transmitting that information. In other words, we are to repeat the commands of God to our children, over and over and over again, all day long! It is not a segment of our parenting, it is a lifestyle. If we are living life with our children, rather than treating them as mere components of our existence, we will have opportunity after opportunity to disciple them in the ways of Adonai.

This is also the model for fundamental discipleship, which we as believers in Yeshua too often blindly neglect. Yet the Hebrew continues to uncover for us what we have missed for far too long: discipleship is not about education and learning—it is about living our lives together and influencing one another according to the righteous commands of the word of God, speaking them repeatedly to one another as we devote ourselves to Him. Like stone on blade, the Word of Adonai strikes against the hard heart of man. Over time, it sharpens without inflicting damage, and in the end, the tool is fit for excellent service.

The original languages of Scripture are priceless and irreplaceable, and when we overlook their presence, too much of ourselves can get in the way of the purest possible understanding. Let’s consider Hebrew, not as a mysterious treasure to be unearthed, but as a carefully wrapped gift the Father desires us to open… that He may “diligently teach” us His ways.