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.
Hebrew Lesson
Psalm 118:5 Hebrew reading:
- Psalm 118:5 Hebrew page (pdf)
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.
In the Torah 
Where is it written, “All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the godly one may be complete, equipped for every good work” (2 Tim. 3:16-17), it is to be noted that “the Scriptures” referred to here are the Jewish Scriptures (i.e., the Torah, the Prophets, and the Writings), since they are the foundation, the context, and the overarching matrix for the later New Covenant revelation… These were the Scriptures Yeshua used to contextualize and explain his ministry to his followers: “And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself” (Luke 24:27). Indeed when Paul wrote these words to Timothy the “New Testament” Scriptures had not yet been compiled by the leaders of the first-generation followers 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.”
Shavuah tov, chaverim! Our Torah portion for this week is 
According to tradition, Moses descended from Sinai (with the second set of tablets) on 
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.
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.”
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.