During Passover week it is customary to read the ancient “love song” of King Solomon called Shir Ha-Shirim (שיר השירים), or the “Song of Songs.” In Jewish tradition, since Passover marks the time when our “romance” with God officially began, the sages chose this song to celebrate God’s love for his people. And since Passover is also called Chag Ha-Aviv, the festival of spring, the Song is also associated with creativity and hope associated with springtime (Song 2:11-12). One way to read this poem is to see the king, who had disguised himself as a lowly shepherd to win the heart of the Shulamite woman, as a picture of Yeshua who took the form of a lowly servant to demonstrate his eternal love for those who are trusting in him… Indeed, the Song of Songs is linked to the “lilies” (i.e., shoshanim: שׁשׁנים) mentioned in Psalm 45, which presents a Messianic vision of the Divine Bridegroom and offers an “ode” for a forthcoming wedding.
Hebrew Lesson:
“Whatever does not proceed from faith is sin” (Rom. 14:23). Sin is not so much disobedience to an external code of behavior, however, as much as it is abandoning your trust, your identity, and your hope as a beloved child of God. As you believe so you will behave, and as you behave so you believe… Therefore one of the greatest of sins is to forget the truth of who you really are – a beloved and redeemed child of God! The great temptation of sin is rooted in the lie that we are unworthy people, that God does not really loves us (just the way we are), that He is disappointed in us, and so on. “Self-rejection is the greatest enemy of the spiritual life because it contradicts the sacred voice that calls us the “Beloved.” Being the Beloved constitutes the core truth of our existence” (Nouwen). Forgetting who you are leads to forgetting who the Lord is, just as forgetting who the Lord is leads to forgetting who you are…. Therefore the Lord constantly tells us to remember and not to forget the call of his heart, the message of his love.
“My eye grows dim through sorrow; every day I call upon you, O LORD; I spread out my hands to you… Help me, O LORD my God; save me according to your love” (Psalm 88:9; 109:26). Such words pierce through the clichés and chatter about religion, theology, and so on, voicing the lament of a soul in trouble, desperately crying out to God for help… The language of prayer is often quickened by affliction and trouble, for the heart senses it must find God or die. “The troubles of my heart are enlarged…” (Psalm 25:17). “Heal me, O LORD, and I will be healed…” for if you will not help, O Lord, then I will perish; I will be consumed in my grief, I will waste away in the void of darkness… “Why is my pain unceasing, my wound incurable, refusing to be healed? Will you be to me like a deceitful brook, like waters that fail?” (Jer. 15:18). O Lord, “I am poor and needy; my heart is pierced within me” (Psalm 109:22). During hours of pain or mental anguish prayer becomes spontaneous, raw, unscripted and devoid of empty words. Anguish moves us right to the point, bypassing other concerns, distilling the heart’s cry for God’s help. If you feel overwhelmed, pour out your heart in prayer… It is not the words of the prayer that matter as much as it is the fervor, the intensity of the heart, and the passion that yields itself before God. “Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted” (Matt. 5:4). “The LORD is near to the broken of heart and saves the contrite of spirit” (Psalm 34:18).
“If then you have been raised with Messiah, seek the things that are above, where the Messiah is seated at the right hand of God (לִימִין הָאֱלהִים); focus your thoughts on the things above – not on things here on earth – for you have died, and your life has been hidden with Messiah in God” (Col. 3:1-3). Note that the verb translated “you have died” (ἀπεθάνετε) indicates that your death is a spiritual reality you must accept by faith. You don’t “try to die” to the flesh, since that is the fool’s errand of man’s “religion.” No, you trust that God has killed the power of sin and death on your behalf and imparted to you a new kind of life power (John 1:12; Eph 2:5). Because you partake of an entirely greater dimension of reality, namely, the spiritual reality hidden from the vanity of this age, your life is likewise hidden from this world (Col. 3:4). Therefore we are instructed to consciously focus our thoughts (φρονέω) on the hidden reality of God rather than on the superficial and temporal world that is passing away: “For we are looking not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient (i.e., “just for a season,” καιρός), but the things that are unseen are eternal” (2 Cor. 4:18).
Though we can’t control what happens in this dangerous (and foolish) world, we can trust that God is working all things together for good, even during times of severe testing, even in things that are blatantly evil, and even in the midst of mass hysteria (Rom. 8:28; Gen. 50:20, Jer. 29:11). And while we instinctively recoil at the prospect of physical death, there are decidedly things worse than death itself, namely, losing hope in life, walking in the darkness of despair, living a joyless existence because of fear, and ultimately facing God as a shameful coward who shrank back from the truth. As much as we abhor evil – and we must resist it with all our hearts – even more must we love the good – and cling to God (וּלְדָבְקָה־בוֹ) with all that is within us.
When Yeshua victoriously proclaimed, “It is finished” just before he died on the cross, he foreknew that his followers would experience a “purging process,” a “refining fire,” and time on the “potter’s wheel” to perfect their sanctification. At the cross of Yeshua death itself was overcome – and all that it implies – and yet it is nevertheless true that we will suffer and die and that death persists an enemy (1 Cor. 15:26). While we celebrate the reality of the final redemption, the “instrumentality of our sanctification” needs to be willingly accepted and endured. I say “endured” here because I don’t think we will ever have a complete answer to the question of “why” we undergo the various tests we face in this life. Our disposition in the midst of this ambiguity, in the midst of seemingly unanswered prayers, is where our faith is disclosed: will we despair of all temporal hope or not? Will we console ourselves with the vision of a future without tears and loss – a heaven prepared for us? Will we trust God with our pain and submit to his will, or will we “curse God and die” inside – losing hope and despairing of all remedy?
During our Passover Seder, we will place three matzahs on the table, said to represent Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, respectively. During the Yachatz step of the seder, the middle matzah (representing Isaac) will be broken to recall how Isaac was sacrificed in obedience to his father, foreshadowing the sacrifice of Yeshua by God the Father. Indeed, the Talmud states, “We break the middle matzah in tribute to Yitzchak (Isaac), who accepted the sins of the people upon himself” (Shabbos 89b). The smaller half of this broken matzah will be eaten later during the Motzi Matzah step, while the larger half will be eaten during the Afikomen step, near the end of the night…
Happy 