I will gather all the nations and I will take them down to the Valley of Jehoshaphat, and I will contend with them there concerning My people and My heritage, Israel, which they scattered among the nations, and My land they divided.
Part One:
Charlie Kirk and the Wandering Jewish Soul.
Charlie Kirk’s voice first grabbed me on the radio—wiser, cunning, full of courage and genius. The day he praised Dennis Prager’s Rational Bible, I heard it: not just a Christian firebrand, but a hidden Jewish soul. Kirk loved Jewish thought more than anything, knowing the Tanakh gifted the world God’s light. Even when we’d clash—like him pushing pastors to say Jews need Jesus—he spoke from a deep Torah well, defending Israel’s worth and America’s Sephardic roots. Think Haym Salomon bankrolling the Revolution. He followed Orthodox rabbis, wove Genesis into the Constitution, and explored Jesus’s Jewish kin. Until his murder, he was that wandering spark—evangelical yet echoing Jewish grit.
What America just felt is what the Jewish people have felt a million times over. For 3500 years and even in the times of Abraham going back 4000 years. Jews have seen our greatest minds killed for thoughts and words. The are a thousands of Charlie Kirk’s today in Israel. I have heard them teach Torah and science and philosophy.
Each day the war in Gaza goes by we the Jewish people loose a another Charlie Kirk. On this Rosh Hashanah 5786 may Hashem hear the cry of the widows and the orphans and the blood of our martyrs “Kiddish Hashem”. Hear the cry of Israel and the Shofar.
Charlie Kirk and his Jewish soul cries out for our redemption. La Shanah tovah tikatev v’taihatem.
Part Two coming soon.
One of the verses many people use is ” The Stone the Builder Rejected”. Well, I want to discuss the idea of a foundation. It is the most important part of building a house. The Third Temple. If you get the foundation wrong, then the rest of the structure will be wrong. I would like to point to the proof that what you have rejected is “That Which You Have Not Heard” as a Christian or Messianic,
| The word that Isaiah the son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem. | 1הַדָּבָר֙ אֲשֶׁ֣ר חָזָ֔ה יְשַֽׁעְיָ֖הוּ בֶּן־ אָמ֑וֹץ עַל־ יְהוּדָ֖ה וִירוּשָׁלִָֽם׃ |
| 2It shall come to pass in the latter days that the mountain of the house of the LORD shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be lifted up above the hills; and all the nations shall flow to it, | 2וְהָיָ֣ה ׀ בְּאַחֲרִ֣ית הַיָּמִ֗ים נָכ֨וֹן יִֽהְיֶ֜ה הַ֤ר בֵּית־ יְהוָה֙ בְּרֹ֣אשׁ הֶהָרִ֔ים וְנִשָּׂ֖א מִגְּבָע֑וֹת וְנָהֲר֥וּ אֵלָ֖יו כָּל־ הַגּוֹיִֽם׃ |
| 3and many peoples shall come, and say: “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD, to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.” For out of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the LORD from Jerusalem. | 3וְֽהָלְכ֞וּ עַמִּ֣ים רַבִּ֗ים וְאָמְרוּ֙ לְכ֣וּ ׀ וְנַעֲלֶ֣ה אֶל־ הַר־ יְהוָ֗ה אֶל־ בֵּית֙ אֱלֹהֵ֣י יַעֲקֹ֔ב וְיֹרֵ֙נוּ֙ מִדְּרָכָ֔יו וְנֵלְכָ֖ה בְּאֹרְחֹתָ֑יו כִּ֤י מִצִּיּוֹן֙ תֵּצֵ֣א תוֹרָ֔ה וּדְבַר־ יְהוָ֖ה מִירוּשָׁלִָֽם׃ |
| 4He shall judge between the nations, and shall decide disputes for many peoples; and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore. |
Many Christians, often turn to the Old Testament—what you call the Hebrew Bible or Tanakh—for insights into God’s nature and His plan for humanity. This week’s Torah portion, Re’eh (“Behold”), found in Deuteronomy 11:26–16:17, offers a profound moment of choice: “Behold, I set before you today a blessing and a curse—the blessing if you obey the commandments of the Lord your God… and the curse if you do not obey… but turn away from the way… to follow other gods which you have not known” (Deut. 11:26–28). This passage, delivered by Moses to the Israelites on the cusp of entering the Promised Land, emphasizes fidelity to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. It warns emphatically against idolatry and the adoption of foreign religious practices, including those that introduce new deities or modes of worship unknown to our shared forefathers. In this essay, written for a Christian audience, I aim to explore how Re’eh serves as a divine safeguard against religions like Christianity, which, from a Jewish perspective, diverges from the pure monotheism of the Torah. By contrasting the oral traditions of Judaism and Christianity, examining Christian claims about Jesus as a fulfillment of the Binding of Isaac, and tracing the non-Jewish origins of vicarious atonement, we can see why the Torah precludes belief in “that which you have not known.”
At the heart of Re’eh is Deuteronomy 13, a chapter that outlines safeguards against false prophets, dreamers, or even close family members who might entice the people to worship “other gods which you have not known” (Deut. 13:2). Even if such a figure performs signs or wonders that come true, the Torah commands: “You shall not listen to the words of that prophet… for the Lord your God is testing you to know whether you love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul” (Deut. 13:3–4). This is not merely a prohibition against pagan idols like those of the Canaanites; it’s a broader admonition against any innovation that alters the worship of the one, eternal God revealed at Sinai.
From a Jewish viewpoint, this directly applies to Christianity. Jesus, as portrayed in the New Testament, is elevated to a divine status—part of a Trinity or as the “Son of God”—a concept utterly foreign to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The Torah’s God is singular and indivisible, as affirmed in the Shema (Deut. 6:4), and any suggestion of a divine intermediary or incarnation would qualify as “other gods” unknown to the forefathers. Deuteronomy 13 warns that such teachings, even if accompanied by miracles (like those attributed to Jesus), are a test of loyalty. Jews see this as a prophetic barrier against missionary efforts, where Christianity transforms the character of a historical figure into a god-like being, precisely what the Torah forbids. This isn’t about rejecting Jesus as a teacher but recognizing that his deification introduces a worship system alien to the covenant at Sinai.
Judaism and Christianity both value oral traditions, but their sources and natures differ profoundly. In Judaism, the Oral Torah (Torah she-be’al peh) is believed to have been given to Moses at Sinai alongside the Written Torah, transmitted faithfully through generations of sages—from Moses to Joshua, to the elders, prophets, and rabbis. This tradition, later compiled in the Mishnah and Talmud, clarifies and expands the Written Torah without altering its core monotheism. It stems directly from the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, ensuring continuity with the forefathers.
Christianity’s oral tradition, however, originates from a different source: the teachings of Jesus and his apostles in the first century CE. Before the Gospels were written (around 70–100 CE), stories of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection circulated orally among early followers. This tradition, as described by scholars, was sustained through community storytelling, hymns, and prayers, evolving to explain Jesus’ role and provide guidance for early churches. Paul, writing in the 50s CE, incorporated snippets of this oral material, such as accounts of the Last Supper and resurrection (1 Cor. 11 and 15), which were passed down before being formalized in writing. Unlike Judaism’s Oral Torah, rooted in Sinai, Christianity’s tradition begins with Jesus—a figure not prophesied in this divine capacity by the Torah—and develops through church fathers like Ignatius and Justin Martyr in the second century. This creates a new narrative arc, diverging from the forefathers’ covenant and introducing concepts like the Trinity, which Re’eh explicitly warns against as “gods you have not known.”
A cornerstone of Christianity is the belief that Jesus died for humanity’s sins, offering vicarious atonement—where one person’s sacrifice redeems others. This idea, however, has no roots in Jewish tradition and contradicts the Torah’s emphasis on personal responsibility and repentance. In Judaism, atonement comes through teshuvah (repentance), prayer, charity, and animal sacrifices (when the Temple stood), but never through human sacrifice, which is abhorrent (Deut. 18:10). Each person atones for their own sins, as Ezekiel states: “The soul who sins shall die” (Ezek. 18:20).
The concept of someone dying for sins evolved within Christianity, not Judaism. Early theories include the Ransom Theory (3rd century, Origen), where Jesus’ death paid a debt to Satan or God; Christus Victor (dominant pre-12th century), portraying Jesus’ death as victory over evil powers; and Satisfaction Theory (Anselm, 11th century), where it satisfied God’s honor. The Penal Substitution Theory, popularized by Reformers like Calvin, views Jesus’ death as punishment in sinners’ place to appease God’s wrath. These ideas draw loosely from Jewish sacrificial imagery but twist it into a human-centered redemption unknown to the Torah. Jews argue that if vicarious atonement were needed, the Torah would have revealed it at Sinai, not through a later figure.
Moreover, some streams of Judaism, particularly Kabbalah, incorporate gilgul (reincarnation), where souls return to rectify past failings. Originating in post-Talmudic Kabbalah (12th century onward, e.g., Sefer ha-Bahir), gilgul allows for multiple lifetimes to achieve perfection, making a one-time savior unnecessary. While not universal in Judaism, this belief underscores self-reliant soul rectification over external redemption.
Christians often see Jesus as foreshadowed in the Binding of Isaac (Akedah, Gen. 22), where Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his “only son” parallels God’s sacrifice of Jesus. Typologies highlight similarities: both are “only begotten sons,” carried wood for the sacrifice, and the event occurs on a mountain (Moriah, linked to Calvary). This interprets the Akedah as prefiguring Jesus’ crucifixion for atonement.
Jews rebut this as a retroactive imposition. The Akedah tests Abraham’s faith, not prophesies a messiah; God provides a ram, halting human sacrifice forever. Isaac isn’t killed, so it can’t foreshadow a death for sins. Rabbinic tradition views it as merit for Israel, not a messianic template. Introducing Jesus here adds a foreign layer, violating Re’eh’s warning against innovations.
Re’eh invites us to “behold” the choice before us: fidelity to the God of our forefathers or the allure of foreign traditions. For Jews, Christianity, with its new oral tradition, vicarious atonement, and typological readings, represents “that which you have not known.” As Christians, reflecting on these differences may deepen appreciation for the Torah’s unyielding monotheism. Ultimately, Re’eh calls us back to the pure covenant of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob—without additions or intermediaries.
Footnotes:
Issac: A Picture of the Future.
That which You have Not Known?
Vayera is a Torah portion from the Book of Genesis (Chapters 18:1–22:24) that begins with the Hebrew phrase meaning “and he appeared”.
This parashah is known for exploring themes of faith, hospitality, and divine justice.
In this series of lectures, we will examine traditions. Traditions of Jews and Christians. How do those traditions influence us in how we look at scriptures?
When I speak with Christians, they tell me what they think the Bible says. So, I ask them where they get that tradition. You see, we all have a tradition that explains what the Bible says.
The strongest supporters of truth are the Christian and Messianic Jewish world, and those who claim to follow the Torah, and who also claim that the Jewish people have missed the coming of their Messiah.
Today, I would like to look at the Holy Torah and see if the traditions of the Christian and Messianic world follow the Torah Law.
How the Commandments Provide a Detailed List of Things Not to Do
Re’eh’s commandments, particularly in Chapters 11–13, outline a detailed prohibitions against idolatry, framing it as straying from the “known” path of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. These aren’t vague warnings but specific directives to avoid corruption by foreign influences:
These form a comprehensive safeguard, emphasizing relationship-based worship over power-driven or innovative deviations.
Re’eh, mirrored in the Akedah, highlights God’s hatred of child sacrifice and demand for “known” worship. Applied to Christianity, each disqualifies Jesus as a divine figure or sacrificial redeemer, as his role introduces “unknown” elements foreign to the Torah’s God—elevating a human to godhood, promoting human sacrifice for atonement, and diverging from Abraham’s proven relationship. Here’s how each theme connects:
Do what is yashar (good and straight) in God’s eyes: Re’eh repeats this, contrasting human eyes (subjective morality) with God’s, as Abraham did in the Akedah by trusting known goodness. Christianity claims Jesus fulfills the law but adds “new commandments” (John 13:34), redefining righteousness through faith in him. This disqualifies Jesus by innovating beyond the Torah, doing what’s “right” in Christian eyes but straying from the forefathers’ known path.
Serve God only in the place He chooses (Mount Moriah/Temple): Re’eh mandates centralized worship at God’s selected site, foreshadowed in the Akedah where Abraham obeys at Moriah. Christianity shifts this to Jesus as the “new temple” (John 2:19–21), allowing decentralized faith in him anywhere, bypassing the Torah’s chosen place. This disqualifies Jesus by introducing an “unknown” intermediary, straying from the forefathers’ site-specific covenant.
God’s Name should be on that place: In the Akedah, Abraham names the site “Hashem yireh,” affirming God’s singular presence. Re’eh echoes this for the Temple. Christianity attributes divine names/titles to Jesus (e.g., “Emmanuel,” “Son of God”), placing God’s “name” on a human figure unknown to Abraham. This disqualifies Jesus as idolatry, equating a man with God’s essence in a way the Torah rejects.
Serve Him by offering sacrifices (burnt offerings/olos): The Akedah features an olah, but God substitutes the ram, rejecting human offering. Re’eh specifies animal burnt offerings at the Temple. Christianity portrays Jesus as the ultimate human burnt offering (Hebrews 10:10), dying once for all sins. This disqualifies him, as Re’eh deems human sacrifice abominable—God hates it, never intending it even in the test.
It’s okay to eat animals like a ram (ayil) or deer (tzvi): Re’eh permits eating such clean animals post-slaughter, with the ram in the Akedah symbolizing acceptable substitution. Christianity’s Eucharist symbolically “eats” Jesus’ body/blood (John 6:53–56), turning a human into consumable sacrifice. This disqualifies Jesus by mimicking pagan rites, inverting the Torah’s ram-as-substitute into forbidden human symbolism.
Spilling of blood (as in kosher slaughter): Re’eh requires blood spilled on the ground, not consumed, echoing the Akedah’s averted human bloodshed. Christianity centers on Jesus’ blood spilled for forgiveness (Matthew 26:28), elevating human blood as redemptive. This disqualifies him, as the Torah prohibits blood manipulation in worship and abhors human spilling for atonement—personal repentance suffices.
Not doing abominable things like sacrificing children: Re’eh explicitly hates child sacrifice, clarifying the Akedah as a non-literal test. Christianity depicts God sacrificing His “only begotten Son” (John 3:16) for humanity’s sins, a divine child offering. This directly disqualifies Jesus, portraying God as endorsing what He abhors—an “unknown” immoral act, unproven in Abraham’s relationship.
Deuteronomy 11:16-17
“Take heed to yourselves, that your heart be not deceived, and ye turn aside, and serve other gods, and worship them; And then the Lord’s wrath be kindled against you, and he shut up the heaven, that there be no rain, and that the land yield not her fruit; and lest ye perish quickly from off the good land which the Lord giveth you.”
Deuteronomy 11:16-17
“Take heed to yourselves, that your heart be not deceived, and ye turn aside, and serve other gods, and worship them; And then the Lord’s wrath be kindled against you, and he shut up the heaven, that there be no rain, and that the land yield not her fruit; and lest ye perish quickly from off the good land which the Lord giveth you.”
1 Kings 8:35-36
“When heaven is shut up, and there is no rain, because they have sinned against thee; if they pray toward this place, and confess thy name, and turn from their sin, when thou afflictest them: Then hear thou in heaven, and forgive the sin of thy servants, and of thy people Israel, that thou teach them the good way wherein they should walk, and give rain upon thy land, which thou hast given to thy people for an inheritance.”
2 Chronicles 6:26-27
“When the heaven is shut up, and there is no rain, because they have sinned against thee; yet if they pray toward this place, and confess thy name, and turn from their sin, when thou dost afflict them; Then hear thou from heaven, and forgive the sin of thy servants, and of thy people Israel, when thou hast taught them the good way, wherein they should walk; and send rain upon thy land, which thou hast given unto thy people for an inheritance.”
Amos 4:7-8
“And also I have withholden the rain from you, when there were yet three months to the harvest: and I caused it to rain upon one city, and caused it not to rain upon another city: one piece was rained upon, and the piece whereupon it rained not withered. So two or three cities wandered unto one city, to drink water; but they were not satisfied: yet have ye not returned unto me, saith the Lord.”
Deuteronomy 28:23-24
(This is directed toward Israel as a nation for disobedience, but the principle extends to judgment contexts.)
“And thy heaven that is over thy head shall be brass, and the earth that is under thee shall be iron. The Lord shall make the rain of thy land powder and dust: from heaven shall it come down upon thee, until thou be destroyed.”
Jeremiah 14:1-6
“The word of the Lord that came to Jeremiah concerning the dearth. Judah mourneth, and the gates thereof languish; they are black unto the ground; and the cry of Jerusalem is gone up. And their nobles have sent their little ones to the waters: they came to the pits, and found no water; they returned with their vessels empty; they were ashamed and confounded, and covered their heads. Because the ground is chaff, because there was no rain in the earth, the plowmen were ashamed, they covered their heads. Yea, the hind also calved in the field, and forsook it, because there was no grass. And the wild asses did stand in the high places, they snuffed up the wind like dragons; their eyes did fail, because there was no grass.”
Zechariah 14:17-18
“And it shall be, that whoever will not come up of all the families of the earth unto Jerusalem to worship the King, the Lord of hosts, even upon them shall be no rain. And if the family of Egypt go not up, and come not, that have no rain; there shall be the plague, wherewith the Lord will smite the heathen that come not up to keep the feast of tabernacles.”
(Specific judgment against nations that refuse to honor God.)
These verses highlight instances where the withholding of rain is used as a divine judgment, either for the nation of Israel or other nations, reflecting a consequence of disobedience or refusal to acknowledge God.
The Book of Genesis, or Sefer Bereishit, is a profound blueprint and cause of Jewish history. Drawing from traditional Jewish sources—ranging from the Talmud and Midrash to the mystical insights of the Zohar and the Vilna Gaon—we will uncover how Genesis is not merely a collection of ancient stories but a divine framework that shapes reality, time, and the Jewish people’s destiny. At the heart of our lecture today lies an extraordinary axis: the year 1948 in the Jewish calendar (Anno Mundi, or AM), marking Abraham’s birth, and the year 5708 AM, corresponding to 1948 CE, when the modern State of Israel was reestablished. These two points, separated by millennia yet united by the number 1948, serve as pivotal anchors, illustrating how Genesis encodes the past, present, and future of the Jewish narrative.
To deliver this in about 30 minutes, I’ll structure our journey as follows: First, we’ll examine Genesis as the cosmic blueprint, rooted in its opening word Bereishit and the six alefs of its first verse. Then, we’ll delve into how Torah verses correspond to historical years, with 1948 AM and 5708 AM as our axis. Along the way, we’ll touch on the Vilna Gaon’s teaching that Bereishit contains all 613 commandments, including circumcision, and contrast this with the rejection of Ephraim to highlight the triumph of Judah’s lineage. Finally, we’ll conclude with how these elements affirm Genesis as the cause of history, resonating even with personal stories like my own discovery of Jewish heritage at age 33, as a descendant of Kohanim from the Diaz Ramirez family.
Let us begin at the beginning—Bereishit bara Elohim et hashamayim ve’et ha’aretz: “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” From a Jewish perspective, this is no poetic myth but a historical declaration. The Jewish Encyclopedia describes Genesis as “a historical work,” recounting the primal history of humanity and the early story of Israel. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, in his writings, calls it a “philosophy of the human condition under God’s sovereignty,” where events like creation, the Flood, and the patriarchal covenants are factual records that set the moral and spiritual stage for all that follows.
Yet, Genesis is more than a chronicle; it is the blueprint of reality itself. Kabbalistic tradition, as articulated in the Zohar, teaches that God looked into the Torah to create the world. The Torah pre-exists creation, and its letters are the building blocks of existence. The Sefer Yetzirah, an ancient mystical text, explains that God formed the universe with 22 foundation letters and 10 sefirot, divine emanations. In Genesis 1:1, we find six instances of the letter alef (א)—in Bereishit, bara, Elohim, et, ve’et, and ha’aretz. The alef, the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet, symbolizes divine unity and has a gematria value of 1, but its full spelling (alef) means “thousand.” Thus, these six alefs represent 6,000 years of human history, as per the Talmud in Sanhedrin 97a: “The world endures for six thousand years: two thousand years of chaos (tohu), two thousand years of Torah, and two thousand years of the Messianic era.”
This 6,000-year cycle mirrors the six days of creation, with the seventh day of Shabbat foreshadowing eternal rest and redemption. Chabad teachings elaborate that the alef bridges heaven and earth—its form resembling a yud above (divine), a yud below (earthly), connected by a vav (channel). In Genesis, these alefs encode the timeline: the first 2,000 years encompass the chaos from Adam to Abraham, the next 2,000 bring the Torah at Sinai, and the final 2,000 herald the Messiah. We stand today in the sixth millennium, nearing that redemptive threshold, where events like Israel’s rebirth in 5708 AM signal the dawn of Messianic times.
Now, let’s zoom in on the opening word itself: Bereishit. The Vilna Gaon, Rabbi Elijah of Vilna, teaches that this single word contains all 613 commandments of the Torah. In his commentary Aderet Eliyahu, he explains that Bereishit’s six letters (ב-ר-א-ש-י-ת) encapsulate the essence of Jewish law, with each letter or combination hinting at specific mitzvot. For instance, Rabbi Akiva Tatz, in his lecture “Torah: Cause and Reality,” cites the Gaon to highlight how the commandment of circumcision (brit milah) is embedded in Bereishit. The letters bet (ב) and resh (ר) form the root of brit (covenant), directly alluding to Genesis 17:10, where God commands Abraham: “Every male among you shall be circumcised.” This mitzvah is the seal of the covenant, transforming physical creation into spiritual purpose.
Other commandments flow from Bereishit’s letters as well. The bet symbolizes belief in God (Mitzvah #1), the foundation of monotheism declared in creation. Resh hints at Shabbat observance (Mitzvah #155), resting as God did after six days. Shin evokes the prohibition against idolatry (Mitzvah #2), affirming God’s unique sovereignty. Tav, the final letter, points to establishing courts of justice (Mitzvah #176), ensuring righteousness in the land. The Zohar in Bereishit 8a reinforces this: “Bereishit contains all the commandments, for each letter unfolds a moment in time, from creation to redemption.” Midrash Tanchuma on Bereishit 1 adds: “The world was created for the Torah and the covenant of Israel, hidden in Bereishit.” Thus, Genesis is the cause of history—the Torah’s laws embedded in its first word drive the narrative forward, from creation’s blueprint to humanity’s moral journey.
This brings us to the axis of our lecture: 1948 AM and 5708 AM. In traditional chronology, as detailed in Seder Olam Rabbah, Abraham’s birth occurs in 1948 AM, approximately 1813 BCE. This marks the pivot from chaos to the Torah era, as Abraham’s covenant initiates the Jewish people’s mission. Mystically, each Torah verse corresponds to a year, per the Vilna Gaon: the 1,948th verse is Exodus 14:13, where Moses declares, “Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the Lord, which He will work for you today; for the Egyptians whom you have seen today, you shall never see again.” This verse depicts the splitting of the Red Sea, a miraculous redemption fulfilling God’s promise to Abraham in Genesis 15:13–14: slavery followed by liberation. Midrash Shemot Rabbah 21:5 links it directly: “For the merit of Abraham, I will split the sea.” Thus, 1948 AM—Abraham’s birth—aligns with a verse of national birth, the Exodus as the first step toward the Promised Land.
Fast-forward to 5708 AM, or 1948 CE, when the State of Israel was reestablished after 2,000 years of exile. This modern miracle echoes Abraham’s covenant, fulfilling promises like Deuteronomy 30:3–5: “God will restore you to the land.” The corresponding 5,708th Torah verse is Deuteronomy 16:18: “You shall appoint judges and officers in all your gates, which the Lord your God gives you, according to your tribes, and they shall judge the people with righteous judgment.” Ramban comments: “This ensures righteous governance in the land, the foundation of dwelling securely.” In 1948 CE, amid the ashes of the Holocaust, Israel declared independence, establishing a just society in the ancestral homeland—a direct echo of Abraham’s legacy.
The numerical parallel—1948 AM to 5708 AM—is no coincidence in Jewish thought. It reflects divine synchronicity, where history cycles through the 6,000-year timeline encoded in the six alefs. Abraham’s birth in the second millennium initiates the Torah era; Israel’s rebirth in the sixth heralds Messianic fulfillment. As Rabbi Tatz notes, the Torah is the cause of reality—events unfold from its blueprint.
To contrast this redemptive arc, consider the rejection of Ephraim, a theme woven into Genesis’s tribal history. In Genesis 48–49, Jacob blesses Ephraim above Manasseh, yet later scriptures reveal Ephraim’s fall. Psalm 78:67 states: “He rejected the tent of Joseph; he did not choose the tribe of Ephraim, but he chose the tribe of Judah, Mount Zion, which he loved.” Rashi explains this as the transfer of kingship to David after the Northern Kingdom’s idolatry. Hosea 4:17 laments: “Ephraim is joined to idols; let him alone.” Seven verses in total point to this rejection, including Hosea 5:9 (“Ephraim shall become a desolation”) and Jeremiah 7:15 (“I will cast out… the offspring of Ephraim”). Ephraim’s sins—idolatry and division—contrast with Judah’s fidelity, leading to the Southern Kingdom’s survival and eventual restoration in 1948 CE. This shift, foreshadowed in Genesis 49:10 (“The scepter shall not depart from Judah”), underscores Genesis as history’s cause: tribal choices ripple through time, culminating in Judah’s triumph.
On a personal note, as someone who discovered my Jewish heritage at 33, from a Crypto-Jewish family—the Diaz Ramirez line, descendants of Levi with my grandfather a Kohen—this axis resonates deeply. My uncles’ DNA confirmed our Kohen marker, tracing back through Mexico and Germany, possibly linking to ancient priests like those in Abraham’s era. Circumcision, encoded in Bereishit, symbolizes this covenantal continuity, much like Israel’s rebirth in 1948 CE.
In conclusion, Genesis is the blueprint and cause of Jewish history—a divine text where letters like the six alefs map 6,000 years, words like Bereishit encode 613 commandments, and verses align with pivotal years. The axis of 1948 AM and 5708 AM binds Abraham’s covenant to Israel’s modern miracle, transforming exile into redemption. As the Zohar teaches, “God looked into the Torah and created the world.” May we continue to study this blueprint, finding our place in its eternal narrative. Thank you for your attention—questions are welcome.
As I finish the fast of the 9th of Av. I think of the heartache of our ancestors. I also think of the heartache of today. We live another year without the Temple in our midst—another year with suffering and war and brokenness everywhere.
These I will bring to my holy mountain,
and make them joyful in my house of prayer;
their burnt offerings and their sacrifices
will be accepted on my altar;
for my house shall be called a house of prayer
for all peoples.”
The reason I believe that the story of Hezekiah is the answer to our problem today. As a Jew, I feel it is time to tell the world about the Torah. We should also claim our land, the land of Israel. Additionally, the House of Hashem has to be built.
For over 3,350 years, Jewish tradition has preserved a powerful narrative about the lamb in the Exodus story—a narrative starkly different from the Christian and Messianic interpretation that identifies Jesus (Yeshua) as the “Lamb of God.” Christians assert that the Passover lamb prefigures Jesus’ sacrificial death, drawing a typological link between the lamb’s blood in Exodus and salvation through Christ. In contrast, Jewish oral tradition, as recorded in the Midrash, Talmud, Mishnah, and Zohar, teaches that the lamb was not a symbol of redemption in the Christian sense but rather the god of the Egyptians, which the Israelites killed to affirm their loyalty to Hashem. This essay explores this Jewish understanding, rooted in the events of the Exodus, and highlights the divergence in oral traditions surrounding Passover.
The story of the Passover lamb begins in Exodus 12:3-6, where Hashem commands the Israelites: “Speak to all the congregation of Israel, saying: ‘On the tenth day of this month every man shall take for himself a lamb… and you shall keep it until the fourteenth day of the month… and kill it at twilight.’” For Jews, this act was not merely a ritual prelude to liberation but a radical rejection of Egyptian idolatry. The Midrash, specifically Shemot Rabbah 16:2, explains that the Egyptians worshipped the lamb as a deity, often associated with the zodiac sign Aries or gods like Khnum, the ram-headed creator. By taking and slaughtering this lamb—publicly, before Egyptian eyes—the Israelites defied their oppressors’ religion, proving their exclusive devotion to Hashem.
The Talmud amplifies this interpretation. In Shabbat 87b, it notes that the 10th of Nisan, when the lambs were selected, fell on a Shabbat that year, making the act a double affirmation of faith: honoring Shabbat while rejecting idolatry. The Tosafot (medieval Talmudic commentators) add that this provoked the Egyptian firstborn, who questioned their parents’ inaction as their sacred animal was prepared for slaughter. This aligns with Exodus 8:26, where Moses tells Pharaoh, “It would not be right to do so, for the offerings we shall sacrifice to the Lord our God are an abomination (to‘evat) to the Egyptians. If we sacrifice offerings abominable to the Egyptians before their eyes, will they not stone us?” Here, to‘evah (abomination) suggests something taboo or sacred to Egypt, not merely repulsive, reinforcing the lamb’s divine status in their culture.
For 3,350 years, Jewish oral tradition has framed this slaughter as an act of obedience, not atonement. The Mishnah Pesachim 10:5 details the Passover sacrifice’s meticulous execution, emphasizing its role as a communal affirmation of the covenant with Hashem. Unlike the Christian view of a sin-offering lamb, the Jewish Korban Pesach (Passover offering) was a celebration of liberation, not a mechanism for forgiveness. The Zohar (Bo 36b) adds a mystical layer, suggesting the lamb’s blood on the doorposts symbolized the destruction of Egypt’s spiritual power, channeling divine judgment against their gods, as stated in Exodus 12:12: “I will execute judgment against all the gods of Egypt.”
Rashi, the 11th-century commentator, ties this to Exodus 12:23, noting that the blood was a sign for the Israelites—not to appease God, but to mark their allegiance amid divine wrath. The Mechilta de’Rabbi Ishmael (a halakhic midrash on Exodus) further stresses that the command to kill the lamb tested the Israelites’ courage after centuries of enslavement, asking: Would they risk Egyptian retaliation to obey Hashem? This narrative, preserved orally since 1313 BCE and later written in these sources, underscores a triumph over idolatry, not a prefiguration of a savior.
In contrast, Christians and Messianics interpret the Passover lamb through a lens absent from Jewish tradition. The New Testament, particularly John 1:29 (“Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world”) and 1 Corinthians 5:7 (“For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed”), casts Jesus as the ultimate sacrificial lamb. This draws on the timing of his crucifixion during Passover and the idea of his blood redeeming humanity, akin to the lamb’s blood sparing the Israelites. The Book of Revelation 5:6 reinforces this with the image of a slain lamb, linking it to atonement—a concept foreign to the Jewish Korban Pesach.
This interpretation emerged centuries after the Exodus, rooted in Christian theology rather than the Jewish oral tradition present at the event. While Jews see the lamb as a historical and cultural defiance of Egypt, Christians overlay a typological framework, retroactively assigning messianic significance. Jewish tradition, however, knows no such figure in the Passover narrative—our redemption came through Hashem alone, not a mediator.
The Jewish oral tradition, codified in the Talmud, Midrash, and beyond, reflects what “Jews have known and taught since going out of Egypt”—that the lamb was a means to an end, not an end itself. The Tanchuma (Bo 4) recounts how the Israelites’ act shattered Egyptian morale, fulfilling Exodus 11:7: “But against any of the children of Israel not a dog shall sharpen its tongue.” This was about divine supremacy, not substitutionary sacrifice. Conversely, Christian oral tradition, developing post-Second Temple, reimagines Passover as a shadow of Christ’s mission, a narrative absent from the Jewish experience of the original event.
The Sfat Emet (19th-century Hasidic commentary) ties the lamb to Shabbat HaGadol—the Shabbat before Passover—calling it the moment Jews first observed Shabbat by rejecting Egypt’s gods, a national coming-of-age. No hint of a messianic lamb appears here or in earlier sources like the Mishnah or Gemara. For Jews, the Exodus lamb remains a historical symbol of liberation and loyalty, not a theological precursor to a figure 1,300 years later.
For 3,350 years, Jewish tradition has held that the Passover lamb was the Egyptian god, killed to prove obedience to Hashem—a story of defiance and deliverance preserved in our oral law. Christians see a different lamb, one tied to Jesus and atonement, a perspective born from a later tradition. The Exodus pictures—lambs selected, slain, and marked on doorposts—tell a Jewish story of faith in action, not foreshadowing. As the Midrash, Talmud, and Zohar affirm, our lamb was no savior; it was a statement: Hashem alone is God.
The Torah is unequivocal: Hashem is not a physical being and cannot be represented as such. Deuteronomy 4:15-16, which is cited, is part of the revelation at Horeb (Sinai), where the Israelites heard Hashem’s voice but saw no form, reinforcing His non-physical nature. Numbers 23:19 further states, “God is not a man, that He should lie, nor a son of man, that He should change His mind.” The Second Commandment (Exodus 20:4-5) prohibits making or worshiping any image, including human forms, as divine. For Jews, this is a foundational “known”—Hashem’s nature is immutable, non-corporeal, and beyond human embodiment.
You shall not add to the word that I command you, nor take from it, that you may keep the commandments of the Lord your God that I command you.“Only take care, and keep your soul diligently, lest you forget the things that your eyes have seen, and lest they depart from your heart all the days of your life. Make them known to your children and your children’s children—how on the day that you stood before the Lord your God at Horeb, the Lord said to me, ‘Gather the people to me, that I may let them hear my words, so that they may learn to fear me all the days that they live on the earth, and that they may teach their children so.’Then the Lord spoke to you out of the midst of the fire. You heard the sound of words, but saw no form; there was only a voice. “Therefore watch yourselves very carefully. Since you saw no form on the day that the Lord spoke to you at Horeb out of the midst of the fire, 16beware lest you act corruptly by making a carved image for yourselves, in the form of any figure, the likeness of male or female,
Christians, however, assert that “God can do anything,” including becoming a man in the form of Jesus (John 1:14, “The Word became flesh”). From a Jewish perspective, this claim contradicts Hashem’s commandments and nature. Rabbi Fohrman teaches an algebraic approach, which likely aims to frame this as a logical contradiction, using a simple equation to show that the Christian belief in Jesus as God cannot hold true given the Torah’s axioms.
Let’s use algebra to illustrate this point in a way that’s clear for a Christian reader unfamiliar with Jewish theology. We’ll define variables based on the “knowns” from the Torah and the Christian claim, then show the logical inconsistency.
Start with the Christian claim: J=H J = H J=H and J=M J = M J=M.Substitute: If J=H J = H J=H and J=M J = M J=M, then H=M H = M H=M.But the Torah’s axiom is H≠M H \neq M H=M—Hashem cannot be a man.This creates a contradiction: H=M H = M H=M (Christian claim) cannot be true if H≠M H \neq M H=M (Torah’s commandment).
Dear Christian friend,
You hold your Bible dear, seeing in its pages a straight path: the gospel to the Jew first (Romans 1:16), a Messiah who cannot return until the Jews say, “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord” (Matthew 23:39), and a Temple rebuilt for the anti-Messiah to fulfill Daniel’s prophecy (Daniel 9:27). But what if I told you that the Torah—our shared foundation—reveals a deeper narrative, one where your faith, rooted in Rome, is cast as Esau, locked in a spiritual war with Ishmael and the House of Jacob? Hashem declares, “I am God… declaring the end from the beginning” (Isaiah 46:8-10), and through Jewish tradition, He has told us this story from Genesis onward. Let me share this perspective, drawing from the Torah, Tanakh, Talmud, Midrash, Zohar, and insights from Jim Long and Rabbi Efraim Palvanov, to reveal Esau’s identity, his modern form in 2025, and the cosmic battle unfolding before the Messiah’s coming.
Who Is Esau in Jewish Tradition?
Brad Scott, as noted in the WildBranch Ministries update, was a teacher focused on the Hebrew roots of scripture, emphasizing a return to biblical fidelity over traditional Christian norms. His interpretation of Esau as the Muslim or Arab Edom reflects a Christian dispensationalist lens, common among evangelical prophecy teachers. Scott likely drew on passages like Obadiah 1:18 (“the house of Esau stubble”) and Ezekiel 35:10-15, which prophesy Edom’s desolation due to its hostility toward Israel. In this view, Edom symbolizes modern Arab nations, particularly those in conflict with Israel, such as Jordan (historically linked to Edom’s territory) or broader Muslim states. Scott’s teaching, as part of WildBranch’s mission, would frame this as a literal fulfillment in the end times, with Israel (Jacob) triumphing over Edom (Arabs/Muslims) during a climactic war, possibly Gog and Magog (Ezekiel 38-39). This aligns with Christian Zionist narratives that see Israel’s modern conflicts as prophetic signs, a perspective Scott might have shared given his focus on scripture over cultural Christianity.
Esau, born to Isaac and Rebekah, is Jacob’s twin, yet his opposite (Genesis 25:25). Named for his hairy appearance, he’s also called Edom—“red”—after craving Jacob’s red lentil stew and selling his birthright (Genesis 25:30). The Torah paints him as a hunter, a man of the field, while Jacob dwells in tents, studying (Genesis 25:27). But Jewish tradition deepens this portrait. The Midrash (Bereishit Rabbah 63:6) casts Esau as rebellious even in the womb, fighting Jacob, a foreshadowing of enmity. By age 13, he’s a ne’er-do-well, committing grave sins (Tanchuma, Toledot 2), and the Zohar (I:186b) sees his soul as one needing rectification across generations, a “tragically failed hero,” as Rabbi Palvanov notes in his lecture “How Esau Became Rome” (Part 1, ~5:00).
The Tanakh amplifies this. Obadiah 1:18 declares, “The house of Jacob shall be a fire, and the house of Joseph a flame, and the house of Esau stubble… there shall be no survivor for the house of Esau, for the Lord has spoken.” Malachi 1:2-3 adds, “I have loved Jacob, but Esau I have hated,” setting Edom’s hills as a desolation. Why such hostility? History and typology provide the answer.
Esau’s descendants settle in Seir, becoming the Edomites (Genesis 36:8). By the Second Temple period, Edom’s identity shifts. The Idumeans, Edomite descendants, are forcibly converted to Judaism under John Hyrcanus (Josephus, Antiquities 13.9.1), but their loyalty is suspect. Herod, an Idumean, becomes Rome’s puppet king in Judea, cementing the Edom-Rome equation (Palvanov, ~10:00). The Talmud (Sanhedrin 12a) and Midrash (Bereishit Rabbah 65:21) identify Esau/Edom with Rome, especially after the Temple’s destruction in 70 CE. Rabbi Akiva, per Genesis Rabbah, sees Esau’s “hands” as Rome’s oppression, crushing Jacob’s voice.
When Constantine converts Rome to Christianity in the 4th century, Edom evolves again. Jim Long, in Blood Brothers, argues that Esau symbolizes Rome’s spiritual legacy—Christianity itself (Chapter 3). The Zohar (II:94a) hints at Esau’s soul cycling through history, opposing Jacob’s mission. For Jews, Esau isn’t just a man but a system: Rome, then Christendom, perpetually seeking to supplant Jacob’s birthright.
Hashem’s End from the Beginning
Hashem told us this end from the beginning. Genesis 25:23—“Two nations are in your womb… the older will serve the younger”—sets the stage. Obadiah’s “no survivor for the house of Esau” and Isaiah 46:10’s “My counsel shall stand” promise Jacob’s triumph. The Talmud (Avodah Zarah 9a) divides history into 6,000 years: 2,000 of chaos, 2,000 of Torah, and 2,000 of Messiah. In 5785 (2024-2025), we’re in the messianic era, yet the Messiah delays due to our sins. The Zohar (III:212b) predicts a star on Elul 25, 5784 (September 27, 2024), heralding upheaval—coinciding with events like Nasrallah’s death, seen by some as Ishmael’s decline.
For Christians, the Temple’s rebuilding signals the anti-Messiah (Daniel 9:27). Jewish tradition agrees it’s a prerequisite for redemption (Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Melachim 11:1), but the Messiah ben David, not an anti-Messiah, will oversee it. The war of Gog and Magog (Ezekiel 38-39) looms, where Jacob’s fire consumes Esau’s stubble—Christianity’s system, not its people, per Rav Kook’s hope for reconciliation (Rabbi Sacks, Covenant & Conversation, 2008).
You may not see your faith as Esau, but Jewish tradition does. Rome’s legacy—Christianity—seeks to convert Jews, believing it hastens the Messiah. Yet Hashem’s plan, revealed from Genesis, ensures Jacob’s victory. The third-day motif in Torah—Abraham seeing Moriah (Genesis 22:4), Sinai’s revelation (Exodus 19:11)—marks divine turning points, not a singular resurrection. Our Messiah comes not to die but to reign, rebuilding the Temple for worship, not desecration.
In 2025, as Israel faces threats and celestial signs unfold, consider this: Hashem’s Torah tells the end from the beginning. Esau and Ishmael’s spiritual systems may oppose Jacob, but the fire of Jacob and the flame of Joseph will prevail. Will you align with Hashem’s eternal covenant with Israel (Psalm 147:19), or cling to Rome’s legacy? The choice is yours, but the outcome is written.
