In the Torah we are told to count forty nine days – seven weeks of days – from the day following Passover until Shavuot (i.e., Weeks or “Pentecost”). This period of time is called Sefirat HaOmer (ספירות העומר), or the “counting the [barley] sheaves” (see Lev. 23:15-16; Deut. 16:9). In somewhat abstract terms, it’s as if there is a dotted line pointing directly from Passover to Shavuot – a “Jubilee” of days – representing the climax of Passover itself. The early sages identified this climax as the revelation of the Torah at Sinai — which indeed did happen exactly 49 days after the Passover in Egypt — but the New Testament identifies it as the outpouring of the Holy Spirit (רוח הקודש) that ratified the reality of the New Covenant of God at Zion. In other words, the redemption process that began at Passover was therefore completed at Shavuot, and that “completion” was the revelation of God’s love and deliverance for the entire world. And though the Jewish sages did not fathom the use of the otherwise forbidden leaven in the offering (see Lev. 2:11), prophetically the waving of two loaves during Shavuot pictured the “one new man” (composed of both Jew and Gentile) standing before the altar of the LORD (Eph. 2:14).
The countdown to Shavuot therefore goes beyond the giving of Torah at Sinai and points to the greater revelation of Zion. Shavuot is the fulfillment of the promise of the Holy Spirit’s advent to those who are trusting in Messiah (Acts 2:1-4). “Counting the Omer,” then, is about receiving the Holy Spirit to experience and know the resurrected LORD of Glory. You can “count” on that, chaverim!
In this connection note again that the climax of the 49 days was not the giving of the law at Sinai (i.e., matan Torah), but rather the revelation of the altar (i.e., the“Tabernacle”) and its subsequent fulfillment in the sacrificial death of Yeshua as our Lamb of God. Moreover, it was during this time that Yeshua made His post-resurrection appearances to His disciples and indeed ascended to heaven during this period… Of particular importance is 1) the beginning of the count of the omer since it signified the waving of the firstfruits and therefore the resurrection of Yeshua (1 Cor. 15:20); 2) the 40th day of the Omer (Mem B’Omer), when Yeshua ascended back to heaven, and 3) the climactic 49th day of the Omer (Shavuot) when the Holy Spirit was given to the disciples in fulfillment of the promise of Yeshua that we would not be left comfortless (Acts 2:1-4). Shavuot, then, marks the time of “Jubilee” of the Spirit, when are clothed with power to serve the LORD without fear…
Note: Some people get a bit “OCD” about the 49 day countdown, making it into a religious ritual with “kabbalistic” overtones, but the Torah simply says to count down the days until Shavuot, or Pentecost, since this has major implications regarding the advent of Messiah and the promise of the New Covenant…. For more on this subject, see: “Sefirat HaOmer: Counting the Sheaves to Shavuot.“
The name for ancient Egypt in Hebrew is “mitzrayim” (מִצְרַיִם) a word that can be translated as “straits” or “narrow places” (i.e., -מ, “from,” and צַר, “narrow”), suggesting that “Egypt” represents a place of constriction, tribulation, oppression, slavery, and despair. The Hebrew word for salvation, on the other hand, is “yeshuah” (יְשׁוּעָה), a word that means deliverance from restriction, that is, freedom and peace. As it is written: “From my distress (מִן־הַמֵּצַר), i.e., from “my Egypt,” I cried out to the LORD; the LORD answered me and set me in a wide open place” (Psalm 118:5).
But why, it may be asked, did God tell Jacob: “Do not be afraid to go down to Egypt” (Gen. 46:3)? Why did God allow this excursion into “heavy darkness” that Abraham clearly foresaw (Gen. 15:12-13)? What is there about “Egypt” that prepares us to take hold of our promised inheritance? Joseph become a prince of Egypt; however, he was still captive to Pharaoh, and later, after he died, a “new Pharaoh arose” that did not acknowledge his contribution to Egyptian history (Exod. 1:8). All that remained of Joseph were his bones – a chest of bones that were carried out by Moses (and later buried by Joshua in Shechem). The “bare bones” of Joseph represented the essence of his faith, as he foresaw the time when God would rescue the family from Egypt and raise him up in the land of promise (Gen. 50:24-26; Heb. 11:22).
A general principle of spiritual life is that the “the way up is the way down” (John 12:24). As Yeshua said, “Whoever would be first among you must be slave of all” (Mark 10:44). Becoming nothing (i.e., ayin) in this world is the condition for seeing something in the world to come. Unless a seed falls to the ground it abides alone (John 12:24). But we become “nothing” by trusting in the promise of God, not by trying to do it ourselves…
The purpose of life here below is to carry us to the highest degree of taedium vitae (“weariness of life”). When God does everything to rob a person of any inclination to live, yet that person persists in faith that God is love, such a one has become ripe for eternity.” – Kierkegaard, Journals (July 2, 1855)
This is not another venture of the ego. Life in the Spirit means trusting that God will do within you what you cannot do for yourself, to set you free from the bondage of yourself… From our point of view we take hold of what God has done for us by “letting go” of our own devices (Phil. 2:13); we let go and trust and are carried by the “Torah of the Spirit of life” (i.e., תּוֹרַת רוּחַ הַחַיִּים, Rom. 8:2). From heaven’s point of view God administers “severe mercy” by afflicting us with vanity, trails of various kinds, lamentation, and disquiet of heart, in order to turn us away from all we desire or hope to find in this life as our good. Such “taedium vitae” is a great gift to the trusting soul, even if (at the present time) it may seem to suggest the distance and disregard of God’s own heart.
The way is not trying but trusting; not struggling but resting; not clinging to life, but letting go… allowing trouble to pass as dark shadows that flit over the vista of transience.
God’s way of deliverance is entirely different than man’s way. Man tries to enlist carnal power in the battle against sin (i.e., religion, politics, etc.), but God’s way is to remove the flesh from the equation. The goal is not to make us stronger and stronger, but rather weaker and weaker, until the ego is crucified and only the sufficiency of the Messiah remains. Then we can truly say, “I have been crucified with Messiah. It is no longer I who live, but the Messiah who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Gal 2:20). The word “Hebrew” (עִבְרִי) means one who has “crossed over” (עָבַר) to the other side, as our father Abraham did when he left the world of Mesopotamia (Gen. 14:13). Likewise it is on the other side of the cross that we experience the very power that created the universe “out of nothing” (i.e., yesh me’ayin: יֵשׁ מֵאַיִן) and that raised Yeshua the Messiah from the dead.
The receiving of the Torah (קבלת תורה) must take place each and every day, as it says, “Trust in the LORD ‘bekhol libekha’ (בְּכָל־לִבֶּךָ) – with all your heart; and know Him ‘bekol derakhekha’ (בְּכָל־דְּרָכֶיךָ), in all your ways” (Prov. 3:5-6). The revelation of Torah is described as a “loud and never-ending voice” (Deut. 5:22), though it is our constant responsibility to “shema” – to take heed and receive the invitation of God’s heart.
It is written in our Scriptures: “Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not rely on your own understanding” (Prov. 3:5). The Hebrew word for trust is “bittachon” (בִּטָחוֹן), from a root word (בָּטָח) that means “to lean upon,” to feel safe and secure (Psalm 31:19). Bittachon expresses the emotional conviction that you are welcome and accepted before God, and that you have access to his heart (Heb. 4:16; 1 Pet. 5:7). We trust with “all of our heart” when we let go of our need to control (or understand) things and instead rely on God’s ability to take care of us. Trusting God means knowing “in your kishkas,” that is, in your guts, that God is taking care of you (Rom. 8:28); it is the comfort of being made safe in his love…
“In all your ways know Him, and he will direct your paths” (Prov. 3:6), and that means you are to know God in whatever “way” you happen to find yourself in, which includes ways of joy and happiness, but also ways of struggle, ways of sinfulness, and ways of heartache… In all these ways we are to know him…. And just as we are to trust God with all of our heart and abandon ourselves to his care, so we are “know God” in all our goings, opening our heart to his loving presence and trusting in his guidance for our lives. The Good Shepherd will lead us down the right paths for the sake of his beautiful name (Psalm 23:3). Amen.
In the Torah we read about the institution of Passover and the final plague that was to befall the Egyptians on the Passover night. When we think of this time, we may imagine God “passing over” those houses that had the blood of the lamb smeared on their doorposts, though it might better be said that God passed into the homes of those who trusted him, while he withdrew His Presence from those that did not…
To see this note that two different words are used that can be translated as “pass over.” First, God said, “I will pass over (i.e., avar: עֲבַר) the land of Egypt that night, and I will strike all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, both man and beast; and on all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgments; I am the LORD” (Exod. 12:12). But directly after saying this, God promised to “pass over” (i.e., pasach: פָּסַח) the homes of those who trusted in him to impart his protection from the plague of death: “The blood shall be a sign for you, on the houses where you are. And when I see the blood, I will pass over to you (lit. עֲלֵכֶם, ‘upon you’), and no plague will befall you to destroy you, when I strike the land of Egypt” (Exod. 12:13). In other words, when God would see the blood of the Passover lamb, he would pass over to enter the house and “cover” its occupants from the judgment of death.
The blood of the Passover lamb sheltered people from the plague of death by atoning for their sin by means of a substitutionary sacrifice. The Torah states that “the life (i.e., nefesh: נֶפֶשׁ, or ‘soul’) of the flesh is in the blood” (Lev. 17:11), and therefore death represents the separation of the soul from the body. The life blood of a sacrificial lamb was therefore offered in exchange for the death and destruction of others. Eating the lamb “roasted by fire” meant identifying with the death offered in exchange for your own; eating matzah, or unleavened bread, signified being delivered in haste, apart from the “rise of the flesh” or human design; and eating maror, or bitter herbs, recalled the bitterness of former bondage.
The very first time the word “blood” (דָּם) occurs in the Scriptures concerns the death of Abel, the son of Adam and Eve who was murdered by his brother Cain. After Abel’s blood was shed, the LORD confronted Cain and said, “What have you done? The voice of your brother’s blood (קוֹל דְּמֵי אָחִיךָ) is crying to me from the ground” (Gen. 4:10). Since blood is the carrier of life, it bears the energy and vitality of life: it has its own spiritual “voice.” Likewise, the blood of Yeshua (דְּמֵי יֵשׁוּעַ), the true Lamb of God who died upon the cross, speaks on our behalf, and reverses the power of death by creating a barrier that death can no longer cross, since the death of the sacrificial victim “exchanges” the merit and power of life. Unlike the blood of Abel that “cries out” for justice, the blood of Yeshua cries out for mercy (Heb. 12:24). Putting our trust in the provision of God’s sacrifice causes His wrath (or righteous judgment) to pass over while simultaneously extending love to the sinner…. This is the essential message of the gospel itself, that we have atonement through the sacrificial death, burial, and resurrection of Yeshua our Savior, the great Lamb of God. As Yeshua said, “I tell you the solemn truth, the one who hears my message and believes the One who sent me has eternal life (חַיֵּי עוֹלָם) and will not be condemned, but has passed over (i.e., μετά + βαίνω, lit., “crossed over” [עָבַר]) from death to life” (John 5:24). Just as God’s judgment passes over from life to death on my behalf; so His love passes over from death to life on my behalf…
Notice that the Hebrew verb “pasach” can also mean “to limp,” suggesting the heel of Messiah that was “bruised” in the battle for our salvation (Gen. 3:15). It is the cross of Yeshua that enables the mercy of God to “overcome” his justice, or that allows “steadfast love and faithfulness to meet; righteousness and peace to kiss” (Psalm 85:10). His attribute of Justice passes over us as His attribute of Compassion passes into us… The sacrifice of Messiah allows God to be both just and the justifier of those who trust in God’s remedy and exchange for our sin (Rom. 3:26).
The idea of substitutionary atonement is surely mysterious and complicated, but ultimately the message is simple: God loves you and has made a way for you to be eternally accepted — despite your sin… That’s the “good news” of the cross. That’s what Yeshua meant when he said, “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life. For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life (חַיֵּי עוֹלָם). For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him” (John 3:14-17). Humanity as a whole has been “bitten by the snake” and needs to be delivered from its deadly venom. Just as the image made in the likeness of the destroying snake was lifted up for Israel’s healing, so the One made in the likeness of sinful flesh was to be lifted up as the Healer of the world (Rom. 8:3). All we need to do is look and believe. Yeshua died for you so you can live. He stands at the door and knocks, offering to cross over to give you his life (Rev. 3:20).
People confuse morality with religion, saying things like, “if I do good, the rest will take care of itself,” but Yeshua did not come to simply teach (or reinforce) moral truth, but to die for our sins and to transform our nature. The message of the cross is not that we should reform ourselves with renewed hope, but rather that our old nature must die and be replaced with something far greater… When King David cried out to the Lord, “Create in me a clean heart, O God,” he did not use the Hebrew word yatzar (יָצַר), which means to “fashion” or “form” something from pre-existing material (Gen. 2:7), but he instead used the word bara (בָּרָא), a verb exclusively used in the Torah to refer to God’s direct creation of the cosmos (Gen. 1:1). In other words, King David understood that no amount of reformation of his character would be enough, and therefore he appealed to that very power of God that alone could create yesh me’ayin, or “out of nothing.” Such was the nature of the remedy required that was fulfilled in the cross of Messiah…
Where it says, “Surely goodness and mercy (טוֹב וָחֶסֶד) shall follow me all the days of my life” (Psalm 23:6), note the Hebrew verb translated “shall follow me” (i.e., יִרְדְּפוּנִי) comes from a root (i.e., radaf: רָדַף) that means “to pursue,” as a hunter chases after his prey. David was sure that God’s lovingkindness would “hound” him as he made his way through this world – even in the dark places, even in “the valley of the shadow of death” (בְּגֵיא צַלְמָוֶת) – where God’s rod and staff would comfort him and direct his way (Psalm 23:4). Amen, and “may your love, O LORD, be upon us, even as we hope in you.”
In this present world it is a struggle not to be afraid… We see through a glass darkly; our heart’s desire is often thwarted; we often walk in uncertainty; our prayers may seem to go unanswered. There are many tribulations, sorrows, and pains; we are grieved and often feel lonely; we sometimes struggle to hold fast to our confession and hope; we feel alarmed over the insanity and depravity that pervades the culture around us; we feel powerless to stop the juggernaut of unrestrained evil, yea, we lament over the battle within our own hearts — our own inner fears, outrage, and wretchedness.
We may wonder why God does not directly intervene to help in the midst of our plight; we may pray anguished prayers beseeching heaven’s intervention to deliver us from evil. Many of our brothers and sisters around the world are undergoing persecution, being murdered for the sake of their faith; others languish in prison or “reeducation” camps, being labeled as “enemies of the State,” brutalized, ostracized, marginalized, rejected, and forsaken of the common welfare of others. We shed tears over the burning of churches; we are repulsed by acts of violence against God’s people; we protest that Christians are regarded as political enemies for honestly questioning the logic and veracity of governmental mandates. We are often misunderstood, or worse, vilified for honoring the truth. We are made outsiders, segregated outside the camp, maligned as lepers and deplorables… Indeed, the world system hates us, and for the sake of our faith “we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered” (Psalm 44:22; Rom. 8:36).
So where is God in the midst of our alienation and tribulation? As followers of Yeshua we are called to walk in the truth, to do justice, and to walk humbly with our God. More: we are to die to ourselves, love our enemies, and be faithful to God even in martyrdom. In these darkened days, however, this means walking through the darkness of the valley of the shadow of death, for it is apparent that worldly culture has decisively rejected the truth of God and regards those who esteem it as its enemies. “The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel against the Lord, and against his Messiah, saying ‘Let us break their bonds apart and cast away their cords from us'” (Psalm 2:3-4). Prophetically, we know what is on the horizon; we foresee the terrors of the “End of Days.”
The test of faith in our circumstances, as has always been for God’s people, is to remain steadfast in our conviction of God’s love despite the darkness that surrounds us (Isa. 50:10). The test is summed up by C.S. Lewis this way: “We’re not doubting that God will do the best for us; we’re wondering how painful the best will turn out to be” (Collected Letters). We can’t stay in the limbo of such questioning forever, however; we must shake off our misgivings and find settled determination to press on in faith: Our Lord has a crown and a kingdom prepared for us, and he will give us what we need in the way to attain unto it.
There is a difference between knowing about God in your head and knowing God in your heart… Unlike a merely intellectual idea of faith that passively assents to theological propositions or creeds, trusting in the Lord (i.e., bittachon: בִּטָחוֹן) is an emotional commitment to God’s presence in the midst of the sorrows of our lives; it is the struggle of hope that affirms we are not truly alone, abandoned, helpless… Trust goes beyond the “head knowledge” to engage God personally, existentially, and from within the whirlwind of harrowing pain and pain’s fearful loneliness. Authentic theology is “dialogical” — a conversation of the heart with God – seeking, yearning, protesting, lamenting, and struggling with life’s inscrutabilities and unfathomable questions as it appeals to God for the assurance and comfort of the Holy Spirit. Trust finds courage to voice to our sorrow and fears, inviting God into the midst of our brokenness, often yielding to tearful silence in unknowing expectation. As Dorothy Soelle wrote: “Prayer is an all-encompassing act by which people transcend the mute God of an apathetically endured reality and go over to the speaking God of a reality experience with feeling in pain and happiness” (Soelle: Suffering). This is perhaps the deepest meaning of the Shema – to listen for God’s heart in the midst of your struggle; learning to encounter God’s love in the place of your brokenness and need (Job 13:15).
Reflecting on the role of suffering in the heart of faith, Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-1945) – who was murdered by the Nazis – once wrote: “Here is the decisive difference between Christianity and all religions. Man’s religiosity makes him look in his distress to the power of God in the world: God is the deus ex machina [i.e., “quick fix”]. The Bible [on the other hand] directs man to God’s powerlessness and suffering: only a suffering God can help” (Letters and Papers from Prison). Bonhoeffer’s comment alludes to the difference between an “Elohim” (אֱלהִים) conception of God as the omnipotent power and Judge of reality, and the “YHVH” (יהוה) conception of God as the compassionate Source and Breath of life – the Suffering God who empties himself to partake of our condition – to know our pain, to bear our sorrows, to heal us from the sickness of spiritual death, and to touch us in the loneliness of our exile… The Spirit enables us to “groan” in compassion, directing us away from the impulse to “kill the pain” to accept it as part of our lament and need for connection with God.
“If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world” (C. S. Lewis).
“The figure of the passing-away world (Isa. 40:6) is like an old man’s face, full of wrinkles, and foul with weeping: we are waiting when Jesus shall be revealed from heaven, and shall come and wipe the old man’s face” (Samuel Rutherford).
God understands the ache of your heart: “O Lord, all my desire is before you; my groaning is not hidden from you” (Psalm 38:9). Be encouraged: Until the Master of the Universe helps, the Master of the Universe will help… Amen. God will help us, and he will help us before we even know that he helps us! Therefore do not be anxious, and do not fear, for “your heavenly Father knows what you need before you ask Him” (Matt. 6:8). God will make everything new, in the name and for the sake of his great love…
It is written, “The world is built in chesed” (עוֹלָם חֶסֶד יִבָּנֶה), which means that our inner life is being built by God’s love… “So do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory (αἰώνιον βάρος δόξης) beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal” (2 Cor. 4:16-19). We must trust in God’s unseen hand for our good.
Therefore “let the one who walks in darkness and has no light trust in the Name of the LORD (יִבְטַח בְּשֵׁם יְהוָה) and rely on his God” (Isa. 50:10). Trusting in God (i.e., bittachon – בִּטָּחוֹן) does not mean that we are obligated to affirm that this is “the best of all possible worlds,” though it does mean we believe that eventually God will wipe away every tear and make all things right.. Trust receives the promise of a future good and the unseen miracle. O Lord, make everything new, revive the hurting, in the name and for the sake of thy love, Amen…
Some people tend to blame God for their troubles. They get angry. They ask “Why me?” Their hearts turns hard and they become bitter over the course of their lives… I suppose such people assume that if they are generally well-mannered and occasionally helpful to others, they have the “right” to expect a life of relative ease, and if that does happen, they feel disappointed with God. As Tevye ironically said to God (in the Fiddler on the Roof): “It may sound like I’m complaining, but I’m not. After all, with Your help, I’m starving to death.”
There are other cases, however, when a person may sincerely struggle with anger and disappointment with God, such as during a time of great tragedy and personal loss. Questions can arise from the conviction that God is ultimately responsible for whatever happens in our lives – both the good and the bad, and this can lead to confusion and anger over what has happened. The reasoning behind the conviction that God is responsible goes something like this. God has all power; he could prevent anything from happening, but he did not prevent this thing (i.e., tragedy) from happening. Having the power to prevent something from happening and choosing not to do so is to allow that thing to happen. Therefore since God allowed this to happen, he is responsible for its occurrence….
Now some might want to defend God by saying that he cannot prevent some things from happening, for instance, he cannot prevent the free choices of moral agents, so he is unable to intervene and stop their occurrence. Indeed there are many things that Almighty God cannot do. For instance, God cannot make a rock so heavy that he cannot lift it; he cannot make a four-sided triangle; he cannot lie or commit suicide; and he cannot overrule the will of free moral agents without violating the essence of what makes them responsible for what they do. Therefore God is not responsible for the evil actions of others.
However, even if we concede that God cannot overrule the will of free moral agents, it does not explain why God permits other tragedies such as natural disasters, accidents, diseases, famines, birth defects, and so on to occur. After all, God is in the “midst of the whirlwind” and controls all the “natural” forces of creation. He is the LORD of Creation, the author of reality, and by his power he upholds all things. Events such as earthquakes, hurricanes, floods, tsunamis, plagues, and famines are part of the created order, though this order has somehow been affected by the “fall” of mankind with the loss of the original vision and goal for the creation (Rom. 8:20). Consequently the natural world is dangerous, difficult, unpredictable, and tragic, though it nevertheless is under God’s supervision and control.
The nature of beauty has been an enduring mystery to artists and philosophers over the millennia, and various attempts have been made to define it. For example, some have defined beauty as an order, arrangement, and harmony of some kind (understood either as objective qualities inherent in something beautiful, or as a subjective sentiment of a person experiencing something that is esteemed as beautiful, and most often as a combination of both). In other words, something is regarded as beautiful because it possesses a certain arrangement of qualities that evoke pleasure or satisfaction in the mind or heart of a person.
The Scriptures teach us, however, that beauty is part of the very composition of things; the design and form of whatever exists, and that the revelation of beauty attests to the glory of God. Beauty is not simply “in the mind of the beholder,” but is objectively real, as part of the very structure of reality. Consider, for example, the flower that blooms, the bird that sings, the star that shines, and the sunset that suffuses the evening skies. “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament proclaims his handiwork; day to day pours out speech, and night to night reveals knowledge” (Psalm 19:1-2).
The beauty of the natural world is grounded in mind of God, since God actively created and designed creation for his purposes and pleasure (see Gen. 1:1, 31; Rev. 4:11). The creation bears witness to the brilliance of the Creator, and the imprint of God’s handiwork is evident in the concinnity, order, and marvels of the natural world itself. This is particularly evident in the case of man, who is endowed with a conscience, or an intuitive “moral compass” that discerns the demands of justice and understands right and wrong. The conscience serves as an inner witness that speaks peace, harmony, and goodness when the moral law is observed, and unhappiness, disorder, and evil when it is disregarded or suppressed. As I’ve mentioned before, the ancient Greek mindset regarded what is beautiful as what is good, whereas the Hebrew mindset regarded what is good as what is beautiful. The difference is one of orientation. Doing our duty before God, obeying “the moral law within,” is what is truly beautiful, not merely appreciating symmetry, order, harmony, and so on. Beauty is a type of the good, in other words, and justice expresses the truth of the good in relation to oneself and others. Beauty is also a type of truth, since what is truly beautiful expresses and reveals truth, whereas what is not truly beautiful expresses what is false. The spirit of man attests to the reality of the Creator and realizes its ontological indebtedness to God (Rom. 1:20).
Theologically, the “beauty of the LORD” (נעם־יהוה) can be understood as the effulgence of God’s manifold perfections, everything about his heart and character that evokes ecstatic wonder, solemn awe, and irresistible attraction in his conscious creatures. It is the brightness and loveliness of God, the “charm of his unsurpassed excellence,” his perfect justice and infinite compassion for his creation. The LORD is “the Rock, his work is perfect, for all his ways are justice. A God of faithfulness and without iniquity, just and upright is he” (Deut. 32:4). The beauty of the LORD is likened to the purity of Divine Light, the radiance and splendor that is incomprehensibly mysterious and good. The New Testament says “For God, who said “Let light shine out of darkness,” is the one who shined in our hearts to give us the light of the glorious knowledge of God in the face of the Messiah” (2 Cor. 4:6). Yeshua is the Divine Light; the Radiance and Beauty of God manifest in the flesh (1 Tim. 3:16). “He is the radiance of the glory of God (הוּא זהַר כְּבוֹדוֹ) and the exact imprint of his nature, who upholds the universe by the word of his power” (נוֹשֵׂא כל בִּדְבַר גְּבוּרָתוֹ; Heb. 1:3). “All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made” (John 1:3).
So how do we wake up to the beauty of the LORD? How do we come to “see the invisible blessing” that pervades all things? How may we encounter the truth that “the whole world is filled with the irrepressible glory of the LORD” (Isa. 6:3)?
Frederick Buechner once described a “holy hush” that came over a boisterous crowd of people when they first encountered the giant redwood trees at Redwood National Park. As the people began to take in their surroundings, everything seemed to change – the loud chatter faded; the light, the atmosphere, and especially the awe of being in the presence of these enormous and ancient trees (some of which had been standing since the time of Jesus), induced a sense of smallness and humility before the glory that surrounded them.
You may have experienced this sort of awe also, perhaps while observing the starry night sky, or while watching the sun set over the mountains or upon the rim of the Grand Canyon, or when witnessing the birth of a baby, or when listening to music that touched your heart and brought tears to your eyes, and so on. Such experiences are sometimes called “self-transcendent,” since they move us outside of our ordinary consciousness in an encounter with something great, breathtaking, wonderful, and sublime…
Encountering the glory of the LORD evokes conflicting emotions within the heart, a powerful combination of fear and attraction that is sometimes called the “numinous.” The LORD our God is beautiful beyond anything we can imagine, yet were we to directly encounter him we would be so overwhelmed that we would “fall to the ground as one dead” (Rev. 1:17); nonetheless he puts his hand upon us and says, “Don’t be afraid; for I am with you.” By his gracious touch, then, we are able to look upon the radiance of his presence, to receive the vision of his majesty and transcendent beauty and loveliness. And the amazing thing is that this is what he wants; this is the very desire of his heart, after all, the prayer to the Father that we should behold his glory (see John 17:22-24). And this, I believe, is part of what is meant when it is said that we are made temples of the Holy Spirit (1 Cor. 3:16). ” You yourselves are like living stones being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Yeshua the Messiah (1 Pet. 2:5).
This topic relates to our Torah reading for this week, parashat Terumah. As we are drawn by God’s grace to love the Lord and to understand how truly beautiful and wonderful and kind he is to us, we will be willing to worship him and celebrate his loving glory. To be alive before God is to be alive to his beauty. Your heart will flutter in joyful excitement to sing: “Give unto the LORD the glory due unto his name; bow down to the LORD in the beauty of holiness” (Psalm 29:2). We sanctify the LORD God within us by affirming his superlative beauty, his infinite goodness, the greatness of his power, the perfections of his justice and truth, his unfathomable kindness, and his unsurpassing and everlasting love. The recognition of the beauty of the LORD is the awareness of his holiness, wherein our heart will esteem his sacred glory as our most precious and extraordinary gift. The beauty of the LORD our God is the heart of love and life and wisdom and truth, the Supreme Being of which no greater can be conceived, for ever and ever. Yehi Shem Adonai Mevorakh. Amen.