Rags, Rules and Riches

Rags, Rules and Riches

Matthew 17:27

Luke 18:18-27

Mark 10:17-22

Matthew  19:16-23

     There once was a shiny sheckel that passed from hand to hand in a seemingly endless cycle of payments for bread, for oinments, for fruit, for services of all kinds, but its hope was to one day be placed in the temple offering to be of service to the Almighty God. The more dirty hands that handle it, the dirtier it would become. Would God accept it if it were no longer shiny? Then one day the sheckel was placed into the clean hands of a rich young boy who placed it in his belt. The little coin was carried home and dropped into a soft bag with other coins and hidden away by the boy, who was called Benjamin. The shekel remained in darkness for days on end. Every so often, the bag was opened and the shekel, along with all the other coins, were poured out onto a table and counted. Then, the shekel and most of the coins would be tossed back into soft darkness and put away for another long perios of time. This cycle went on for what must have been years since the boy Benjamin grew into a young man.
    Then one day, the shekel was one of the coins not returned to the bag. Benjamin placed it in his belt with a handful of other coins. Benjamin left his house, mounted a horse and began a journey. The shekel was excited to be out of the bag and hoped to soon be placed into the temple offering.  It enjoyed the beat of the horse's hooves upon the the road and the rocking motion of the horse's gate. There were greetings of respect from passersby along the way. A few carts could be distinguished among the many sounds, as well as the braying of donkeys and the bleating of sheep and goats. The calls of seagulls were carried on the wind.
     Suddenly several voices cried out for mercy. The horse stopped. Benjamin reached into his belt and removed some of his coins, including the shekel and tossed them towards beggars in rags. The shekel flew through the air, landed hard upon the rocky ground, bounced off the road, down a hill and plopped into a great water. As the shekel sunk towards the sand and muck below, a fish opened its mouth wide and swallowed it. Now, the shekel was in the damp, slimy belly of the creature. His hope for service to God was dashed. How would it ever get out of this darkness?
     For an unmeasurable amount of time, the shekel was carried around inside the fish. It was floated up, dove down, darted this way and that. If it had not been a coin, it would have been seasick. What a fate to be a shekel swallowed by a sea creature and be useless. It could not be used to purchase anything. It could not be saved for a rainy day. And, it could never be placed into the temple offering. But then, there was a jerk. The fish was pulled along, yanked out of the water and the coin was squeezed up into the fishes mouth. Fingers reached inside and removed the coin. The man through the fish back into the water, used his mantel to wipe off the shekel then carried it in the palm of his hand to another man and dropped the coin into that man's hand. "Hear is your temple tax for the Master Yeshua and me."
     The shekel had hoped to be an offering, but to pay the tax of the Master Yeshua sounded important, a good service, and it would end up helping the temple after all. The shekel was blessed indeed.
***
     Benjamin was abhorred by the appearance of the unkempt beggars, clothed in filthy rags not worthy of being called garments. Their sallow faces were pitiful. One of the curses of being rich was the constant attention of these poor beggars. Their presence is an affront to Israel. Why were not these people provided for by the temple tax? That is one of the purposes of the tax. What good does it do to pay tithes and offerings to the temple, when so many people go without help? he thought. He tossed a few coins to them. He did not want to be touched by them. They could have lice or worse. Once the beggars scrambled for the coins, Benjamin continued on his way to Jerusalem.
    Benjamin was intent upon finding the Rabbi Yeshua who was reportedly on his way to Jerusalem. Having recently inherited his father's estate, Benjamin had everything. He was well educated and an excellent businessman in his own right. He was well respected in his community and beyond. He was fair to his servants, took the proper care of his younger siblings and had even set his sights upon a beautiful young maiden named Ruth. She was the jewel of Magdala. Yet, he felt a call to hear Yeshua's teachings, that if all the rumors passing around were true, this man could be the prophesied Messiah. If this rabbi was the Messiah, then Benjamin wanted to know what he must do to be saved from this present lack of leadership, this present age of turmoil. What purpose was there in his wealth and influence in a world dominated by Roman rule and a corrupt priesthood? All his tithes seemed to be wasted and all his efforts at obeying the law seemed meaningless. He was confused by the different teachings of the Pharisees,  and which of the different schools of the Pharisees was right? Hillel or Shammai? Or were the Sadducees correct. He preferred Hillel's teachings but wanted to choose wisely, and surely Yeshua would know.  Benjamin had already dismissed the teachings of the Essenes because they were too radical, living out in the wilderness and preparing for battle with the sons of darkness, and they shared all their possessions.
     As Benjamin passed into Judea beyond the Jordan, he noted the crowds around one particular house. He heard the heated discussions among them, they were about Yeshua's teachings on divorce. It sounded as though he was siding with Shammaites, but Yeshua's miracle healings on the Sabbath, did not correspond to Shammai's teachings. Benjamin tied up his horse and tried to work his way closer to the house. These people would surely recognize his status and let him through. Unfortunately, there were so many poor and uneducated around the perimeter of the house trying to catch every word that Yeshua said that they gave him no notice. Finally, the door to the house opened. Yeshua was coming outside. The crowds gave way to the Rabbi. Benjamin ran over to him, knelt down and asked, "Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" Now, Benjamin knew that most of the Rabbi's preferred to be called good, and he knew that this question would clarify his intent to serve which ever school of thought was correct. If Hillel was right, Benjamin was already on the right path.
   Yeshua answered, "Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments:  Do not kill, Do not commit adultery, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Do not defraud, Honor your father and mother?
      "All these I have kept from my childhood," Benjamin answered, now fairly certain Yeshua would give him a pat on the back and tell him he was already doing everything needed, according to the school  of Hillel, because the look in the Rabbi's eyes was one of exceeding love--approval.
     "You lack one thing; go, sell what you have, and give to the poor, and you will have treasures in heaven; and come, follow me."
      At that saying, Benjamin's countenance fell, and he went away sorrowful. How could the Rabbi ask him to give up so much? Where is such a thing in the Torah? What would his family think? What would his community think? Yeshua was as radical as the Essenes, maybe more. It was such a shame. There were so many of the Rabbi's teachings that he had heard of which were so freeing. He would love to follow his teachings, but he could not give up everything and physically follow the man. He was always surrounded by the poor, the sick and sinners. A man of his social status, could not associate himself with such as these. He would return home, continue to follow Hillel's teachings, maybe add a few of Yeshua's and hope for the best.

Lori Vidak 6-23-14

Rivka's Quest

     Thousands of us were crowded almost atop each other along the green hillside over looking the blue green waters of Lake Kinneret. The Rabbi Yeshua, the miracle worker, the prophet, was teaching us. He stood on a boat out on the water just off of the shore. There was a hush over the multitude as we listened to his every word. I didn't really understand how we could all hear him so clearly, but his voice was strong and deep; his words seem to ride the wind with a spirit of their own. Most of those near the shore were men, but there were a few women had managed to find there way to the water's edge. I know that it is wrong to envy, but I envied them. Shoshanah, Yochanah, Miryam, Shlomit and Shimon Bar Yonah's wife and mother-in-law were among Rabbi Yeshua's inner circle.  They often followed him in his travels to minister to other towns in the Galil and Y'hudah. My sisters, Devorah and Miryam, and I, Rivkah, were fortunate to have traveled from our village to Capernaum in hopes to hear the Rabbi, for Devorah to be healed of her blindness, for me to find hope. We were pressed in upon each other, and though the day was mild, we were sweating from the extra warmth of so many people. I could feel my brother Yosef's steamy breath upon my neck.
     Poor Yosef, my oldest brother, was responsible for the care of Devorah, his own family of six and now, me and my daughters Dinah and Avigayil. My husband Sha'ul, now no longer my husband, had given me a writ of divorce one year ago and sent me out of our home with my two young daughter's, who stayed behind today with Yoseph's wife Rachel and their children. I had to leave my two sons, Binyamin and Ya'akov with their father. I still can't think of them without tearing up. My arms ache to hug them and my eyes long to see them. I was a faithful wife, a good wife and mother. Sha'ul and I were still passionate and happy, or so I thought.  One day, Sha'ul had returned home early from his trip to Damascus; he was a merchant. I had been collecting eggs from the hens, and he surprised me. I dropped the basket and broke a couple of eggs. It's happened on occasion in the past; they're eggs--a stumble hear or a slip there and they break.  He smiled at me, kissed me, then turned and left. Two hours later he returned with the writ of divorcement. His reason was that I had broken the eggs, which is wasteful, and he no longer wanted a careless, wasteful wife. A month later, I was replaced by his new wife Rut. I sought justice, but I was told that Moses commanded that a man give his wife a writ of divorce and put her away. Why would HaShem have Moses command such a thing? Now here I am to find some answers and maybe some justice from Rabbi Yeshua.
     "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall be shown mercy...." the Rabbi taught.
     His words touched me for I was mourning, still, the loss of my husband, my sons and my life. I did thirst for righteousness and truth, but I had not considered mercy, though my brother had shown it to me.
     "...You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt should lose it's flavor, how shall it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything,except to be thrown out and trampled under foot by men.
     "You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden.....In the same way let your light shine before men so they may see your good works and glorify your Father in Heaven..." He continued.
     I had never heard such vivid illustrations, such a call to being a source of light to others. Yeshua's urging of good works was not dogmatic rules to obtain favor, but an expression of love.
     "Do not think I have come to abolish the Torah or the Prophets! I did not come to abolish, but fulfill...For I tell you that unless your righteousness exceeds that of the Pharisees and the Torah scholars, you shall never enter the Kindom of Heaven!" I heard Yeshua speak.
      I don't understand. Sha'ul was a Pharisee! How righteous can the Pharisees and Torah scholars be when they can do such things to their wives and children? How can the Rabbi, who speaks with such wisdom and act with such compassion condone such interpretation of the Torah by them that splits up a family, breaks our hearts and ruins our lives?
     "...You have heard that it was said, 'You shall not commit adultery. But I tell you that everyone that looks upon a woman to lust after her has already committed adultery with her in his heart...."
    I sat up straighter. Now the Rabbi would clarify this injustice, surely.
     "...It was said, 'Whoever sends his wife away, let him give her a certificate of divorce. But I say to you that everyone who divorces his wife, except for sexual immorality, makes her commit adultery and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery..." the Rabbi uttered.
     He does not condone such interpretations! However, it would seem that I was condemned to a life of celibacy, or I would commit adultery and cause anyone who might marry me to commit adultery.  I won't be responsible for bringing any man into such a sin. Am I missing something? Is this not punishment for Sha'ul's actions and not my own?  I was crest fallen, but I knew that Yeshua was different than other Rabbi's and Torah scholars. He spoke truth, and his whole countenance expressed love. I stayed to hear every word.
    He taught of overcoming evil with good; of righteous living; of how to pray--to HaShem as Father! Abba!--to overcome worry with trust in our Abba in Heaven; to not be condemning of others; to judge the fruits of prophets and teachers; to build a firm foundation for life on his teachings and follow them. He taught with such authority.
     After he finished, Rabbi Yeshua began to heal the sick. I, Devorah, Miryam and Yosef stood and pushed our way through the crowd. We helped Devorah reach out to Yeshua. She called to Him. He extended his hand, took hold of hers. When he smiled, she saw it. His light brown eyes were radiant with love and joy. Then, he turned his attention to me. He caressed my cheek and said, "What has the living to do with the dead? Your husband is dead. Your faith has set you free. Be baptized with all of these and do as you have heard me teach this day." Then, he stepped away and was surrounded by a hoard of others who needed his touch.
     I was baptized that day, by Andrew, one of Yeshua's disciples, so were my sisters and brother. We all had much to discuss on our journey home. Sha'ul was a Pharisee, but he was dead in his trespass and sin. His heart was so into the letter of law, that it was dead to the Spirit of God. Sha'ul as my husband was dead. I was free to live my life, and even marry if I were so blessed to be loved again by another man. Yet if such a blessing never happened, I was free; I was loved; I had purpose to be a light to others. Yeshua had opened my understanding to the Spirit of God, the Spirit of the Law. Marriage is a sacred covenant between two people and blessed by God. It is not meant to be broken. But when a man or woman violates that covenant through adultery, idolatry or a hard heart, and will not be reconciled as God wills, then the other mate is free. What has the living to do with the dead?

Lori Vidak 6-12-14

Doubtful Days

     We all have them, those days when doubt has crept into your mind and set up camp. Are my dreams and plans ever going to be fulfilled? Are they even what I should be working towards? Am I aligned with God's will for my life? Why am I being bombarded with trial after trial? Are you angry with me God? How will I ever get out of this mess? What do You want me to do? Get another job? Go back to school? End my marriage and send my spouse packing to lesson my troubles? Or will that only cause more? Only yesterday I was so sure that I knew the path to take. Only yesterday, I felt Your assurance, in spite of the difficulties. Suddenly, I'm stuck in the sludge and trudging through this day under a dark cloud.
    God whispers that I am on the right path, but I look over the edge at the dizzying heights, the rocks below, the storm clouds on the horizon, and other people who are following different paths. I can't see what's around the bend, and the climb is steep. There are fallen logs on the path. All these obstacles seem daunting. I want to sit down. I want to turn back. I look behind me, and I seem to be alone. Down the mountain, the bridge that I crossed to get this far has been burned. I can't go back. I seem to be between a rock and a hard place. In order to get to the paths that others are on, I would have to make it across that burned bridge, or go off the path and climb through the forest to find a different path, or continue in along the path I'm on, climb over the logs, and up the hill and beyond where I can see.
     "Trust Me," the Lord whispers. I keep going. I know where I've been, and I really don't want to go back. I look up at the cloud that looms over me. I tell myself it's just a cloud. The sun will shine again, then the way won't seem so ominous. I will get to the top, then I will be able to walk down hill for awhile. Maybe their will be a place for me to sit and enjoy the view before I head down. There is always the possibility that God will tell me to take another path, but there is no other path for now. I keep walking.

Lori Vidak 6-2-14