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Daily Thoughts

The Raising Lion

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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.

How Israel Can Transform Global ISOLATION Into HONOR and PRAISE – Tisha B’Av Message

Daily Thoughts, Israel: Culture, Judaism, Oral Torah, Returning Israel, Tanach Study

The Lamb of God in Exodus: A Jewish Perspective Rooted in Tradition

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 Lamb as Egypt’s God: A Test of Faith

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.

Stone Us!

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.

The Christian Claim: Jesus as the Passover Lamb

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 Oral Tradition Divide

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.

Conclusion: Two Lambs, Two Truths

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.

Daily Thoughts

Jewish Perspective:Hashem Cannot Become a Man

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.

Deuteronomy 4

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.

Creating a Simple Algebraic Equation

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.

  • Define the Variables:
    • Let H H H represent Hashem (God).
    • Let M M M represent a man (a physical, human form).
    • Let J J J represent Jesus, whom Christians claim is both God and man.
  • Jewish “Known” (Axiom from the Torah):
    • Deuteronomy 4:15-16 and Numbers 23:19 establish that Hashem cannot be a man. In algebraic terms, this is a fundamental rule: H≠M H \neq M H=M. Hashem’s nature is non-physical, and He cannot take on a human form or be worshiped as such.
    • Christians assert that Jesus is both God and man (the incarnation). In algebraic terms, this is expressed as J=H J = H J=H (Jesus is God) and J=M J = M J=M (Jesus is a man). Combining these, the Christian belief implies H=M H = M H=M (since if J=H J = H J=H and J=M J = M J=M, then H=M H = M H=M).

The Equation and Contradiction:

  • Christian Claim:
    • Christians assert that Jesus is both God and man (the incarnation). In algebraic terms, this is expressed as J=H J = H J=H (Jesus is God) and J=M J = M J=M (Jesus is a man). Combining these, the Christian belief implies H=M H = M H=M (since if J=H J = H J=H and J=M J = M J=M, then H=M H = M H=M).

“Truth Value”:

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).

  • In this algebraic setup, the Torah’s commandment is the “known” or axiom: Hashem cannot be a man (H≠M H \neq M H=M). The Christian belief that Jesus is God (J=H J = H J=H) and a man (J=M J = M J=M) leads to the conclusion that H=M H = M H=M, which directly contradicts the Torah’s clear teaching. For Jews, this isn’t about limiting Hashem’s power but honoring His commandments—He forbids us from worshiping Him as a man or through any form (Deuteronomy 4:16). The equation shows that the Christian claim cannot hold true without violating Hashem’s own words, which are eternal and unchanging (Malachi 3:6, “I the Lord do not change”).

Let T T T represent a true statement.The Torah’s known: H≠M H \neq M H=M, so the statement “Hashem is not a man” = T T T (true).The Christian claim: H=M H = M H=M (through Jesus), so the statement “Hashem is a man” = F F F (false, per the Torah).Equation: If H=M H = M H=M, then T=F T = F T=F, which is a contradiction. Therefore, H≠M H \neq M H=M, and Jesus cannot be Hashem.

Daily Thoughts

A Jewish Perspective on the Spiritual War and Hashem’s End from the Beginning

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’s View: Esau as Muslim/Arab Edom

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.

Contrasting Christian and Jewish End-Time Prophecies


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 Becomes Edom, Then Rome

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).

A Spiritual War and a Call to Reflect

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.

Daily Thoughts, HaShoavah Blog, Tanach Study, Torah

The Gift of Choice

A New Look at Adam and Eve in the Garden

By [Gavriel ben David]


The story of Adam and Eve in the Torah is one we think we know: a paradise lost, a forbidden fruit, a fall from grace. But what if we’ve missed the deeper invitation woven into the very first commandment God gave humanity? Recently, Rabbi David Fohrman and Rabbi Friedman have offered a fresh lens on Genesis 2–3, turning the narrative upside down. They suggest that the command to eat from all the trees—except one—wasn’t a setup for failure, but a divine gift: the gift of choice, the seed of gratitude, and a path to trust in Hashem. Let’s explore this idea, drawing from Torah, Midrash, and Talmud, to see how Eden wasn’t about restriction, but about freedom.

The Commandment That Opens the World

Genesis 2:16–17 reads: “And the Lord God commanded the man, saying, ‘From all the trees of the garden you may freely eat; but from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil you shall not eat, for on the day you eat from it, you will surely die.’” At first glance, it’s a warning, a boundary. But Rabbi Fohrman asks us to pause: Why focus on the “no” when the “yes” comes first? God doesn’t just permit eating; He commands it—achol tochal, “you shall surely eat.” Every tree is a gift, described as “pleasant to the sight and good for food” (Gen. 2:9). The Garden bursts with abundance, and Adam and Eve are invited to partake.


 “A world of abundance gifted by Hashem.”


This isn’t a passive allowance; it’s an active call. Midrash Rabbah (Bereishit 15:7) expands this, noting that the trees weren’t just food but symbols of divine generosity—each one unique, a testament to Hashem’s creativity. The Talmud (Berachot 58a) echoes this gratitude: “One who enjoys something of this world without a blessing, it’s as if he steals from God.” In Eden, eating was meant to teach Adam and Eve to say “thank You”—to recognize every bite as from Hashem.


The Tree That Belonged to Hashem


Then there’s the exception: the Tree of Knowledge, off-limits, belonging solely to God. Rabbi Friedman might frame this as a deliberate contrast—not to tempt, but to define. If all trees are gifts, this one’s exclusion creates a boundary, a space where Adam and Eve can say “no” back to God. Without it, they’d be like angels, or, as Rabbi Fohrman puts it, “old computers”—programmed to obey, input yielding output, no room for will. The Midrash (Bereishit Rabbah 19:3) hints at this: “Why was it called the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil? Because it gave the power to choose between them.” Choice didn’t exist until that tree stood apart.


“Hashem’s tree, the root of human freedom.”


The Talmud (Shabbat 55b) wrestles with human agency: “Everything is in the hands of Heaven except the fear of Heaven.” Eden’s design mirrors this—Hashem hands over the world, but keeps one tree to teach trust. Eating everywhere else was saying, “I trust Your gifts.” Touching that tree was questioning, “Do I need more?”

Here’s where it gets profound. Rabbi Fohrman suggests Eden wasn’t about perfection without choice—it was about planting the seeds of relationship. Angels don’t choose; they serve. Humans, though, can turn to Hashem out of love, not just duty. The command to eat was a lesson in gratitude: every fruit a reminder that “this is from You, God.” The Tree of Knowledge, left untouched, was trust: “I don’t need to take what’s Yours—I have enough.”

The Midrash (Bereishit Rabbah 16:5) imagines God showing Adam the Garden, saying, “All this I made for you.” It’s a parent handing a child a feast, leaving one dish aside—not to tease, but to teach appreciation. When Eve, then Adam, eat from that tree (Gen. 3:6), it’s not just disobedience—it’s a break in trust, a grab for control. Yet even then, Hashem’s response (clothing them, Gen. 3:21) shows mercy, a chance to rebuild that bond.


“The moment trust faltered.”


Beyond Eden: Choosing Like Humans, Not Angels


So why does this matter? Rabbi Friedman might say it’s our story too. We’re not in Eden, but we face trees daily—choices between taking and trusting. The Talmud (Avodah Zarah 3a) teaches, “Greater is one who is commanded and fulfills than one who isn’t commanded and fulfills.” Why? Because choice makes obedience meaningful. Angels can’t grow; we can. Eden wasn’t a trap—it was a classroom.

“Our Eden today: choosing gratitude.”


This reading flips the script. The first commandment wasn’t about saying “no” to sin—it was about saying “yes” to Hashem’s world, learning to thank Him, trusting Him. The Tree of Knowledge wasn’t a curse, but a gift of freedom, mishandled but not irredeemable. As we reflect on Adam and Eve, let’s ask: How do we choose? Do we eat from the gifts with thanks, or reach for what’s not ours?

Daily Thoughts

Behold, Your King is Coming to You

2025

“Did the events of September 27, 2024—Nasrallah’s death, a comet’s peak—echo the Zohar’s star? How do we discern messianic signs today?”

One might ask why 2025. In our tradition, the Torah gives a yearly, monthly, and weekly period based on the words and verses in the Torah. One section of the Torah that provides insight into the future is the Torah Parshah Mekeitz. There, the number of words is 2025. Mekeitz in Hebrew means “The End”.

The Zohar states that “in the future, the Holy One, blessed be He, will rebuild Jerusalem,” accompanied by the appearance of “one firm star, glowing with seventy pillars of fire and seventy sparks flashing from it in the middle of the Firmament.” This star will be visible for seventy days.

The Star Of Jacob Prophecy

Comet C/2023 A3 (Tsuchinshan-ATLAS) was discovered on January 9, 2023, by the ATLAS telescope at Tsuchinshan Observatory in China. It’s a long-period comet from the Oort Cloud, with an orbit so vast it was last visible from Earth about 80,000 years ago. In 2024, it became a standout celestial event. It reached perihelion (closest approach to the Sun) on September 27, 2024—coincidentally the date you mentioned—when it was about 0.39 AU (58 million kilometers) from the Sun. At that point, it was still too close to the Sun to be easily visible from Earth, appearing low on the horizon just before sunrise in the constellation Sextans.

Zohar III 212b

Context of Zohar III 212b

The Zohar, attributed to Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai (2nd century CE) but likely compiled by Rabbi Moses de León in 13th-century Spain, is a mystical commentary on the Torah. Volume III corresponds to the section on Leviticus (Vayikra), and 212b falls within the portion Emor (Leviticus 21-24). This passage is part of a broader discussion on cosmic signs, divine judgment, and the redemption process, often linked to messianic times. The Zohar frequently uses symbolic language—stars, angels, nations—to describe spiritual and historical events.

Text and Interpretation

Zohar III 212b specifically mentions a celestial event tied to the “Star of Jacob” from Numbers 24:17 (“A star shall come out of Jacob”). Here’s a summary based on standard editions (e.g., the Sulam commentary by Rabbi Yehuda Ashlag) and English translations like the Pritzker Edition:

  • The Star Prophecy: The passage describes a star rising in the east on the 25th day of the sixth month (Elul in the Jewish calendar), visible for 70 days, signaling the beginning of upheavals and the Messiah’s emergence. It states that this star, fiery and red, will clash with other celestial forces, causing turmoil on Earth—wars, destruction, and the fall of nations—before the Messiah ben David appears. After 12 months, the star shifts west, marking further stages of redemption.
  • Ishmael Connection: The Zohar ties this to “Ishmael’s dominion,” suggesting that during his allotted time of power (interpreted as Islamic rule), this star will herald his decline. It contrasts Ishmael’s wild, earthly strength with the divine light of Jacob’s star, symbolizing Israel’s ultimate triumph.
  • Timing and Symbolism: The text uses gematria and astrological imagery (e.g., the star under the influence of Mars) to encode its meaning. The 25th of Elul, in 2024, aligned with September 27—your earlier focus—fueling online speculation about events like Comet C/2023 A3 or Nasrallah’s death as fulfillments.

Rabbinic and Mystical Views

  • Rabbi Isaac Luria (Ari): Later Kabbalists, building on the Zohar, see this star as a literal and spiritual sign, possibly a comet or nova, heralding the Messianic age. The Ari links Ishmael’s “wild donkey” nature (Genesis 16:12) to his temporal dominance, ending with this cosmic shift.
  • Modern Commentators: Rabbi Matityahu Glazerson and others have cited Zohar III 212b to connect 2024 celestial events (e.g., T Coronae Borealis or the comet) to messianic predictions, though traditional scholars like Rabbi Mordechai Eliyahu caution against over-literalizing mystical texts without clear historical confirmation.
  • Historical Context: Written during Muslim rule in Spain, the Zohar’s Ishmael references often symbolize medieval Islamic powers, projecting their eventual fall to Jewish redemption.

What Happened On The 27th of September

  • September 27, 2024: The Zohar’s mention of the 25th of Elul matches that date in 2024, when Nasrallah was killed and Comet C/2023 A3 hit perihelion. Some online forums (e.g., X posts from 2024) and prophetic voices linked this to the Zohar’s star, though no star or comet was dramatically visible that day—visibility peaked later.
  • Ishmael: The Zohar portrays Ishmael’s descendants as a force of chaos, akin to the “wild donkey,” whose power wanes as the star rises, contrasting with Zechariah 9’s humble king on a donkey.
  • Zechariah 9: While Zechariah’s king brings peace, the Zohar’s star precedes upheaval, suggesting a preparatory phase before ultimate salvation.

Conclusion

Zohar III 212b envisions a fiery star as a harbinger of messianic turmoil, with Ishmael’s decline as a subplot. It’s less about Jesus’ time (which lacked such a star) and more an eschatological forecast.

The section begins with a discussion of cosmic signs heralding redemption. It states that on the 25th day of the sixth month (Elul), a star will appear in the east, fiery and red, visible for 70 days. This star, linked to the “Star of Jacob” (Numbers 24:17), is said to be under the influence of Mars, symbolizing war and judgment.The text describes this star engaging with other celestial forces, causing trembling in the heavens and on Earth. For 12 days, it will provoke chaos—kings will fight, nations will fall, and blood will flow—marking the start of the Messiah’s revelation.After 12 months, the star moves to the west, signaling further stages: the weakening of Ishmael’s dominion (seen as a historical oppressor of Israel), the rise of Jerusalem’s glory, and the Messiah ben David’s ultimate emergence to rule with peace.Ishmael is depicted as a wild, resisting force whose power peaks before this star’s appearance, only to crumble as divine light prevails. The passage ends with an allusion to the Temple’s restoration and God’s judgment on the nations.

“in the future, the Holy One, blessed be He, will rebuild Jerusalem,”

Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion!
Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem!
Behold, your king is coming to you;
righteous and having salvation is he,
humble and mounted on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey.

The oracle of the word of the Lord is against the land of Hadrach
and Damascus is its resting place

What Is The Estalogical Time of Zecharia’s Prophecy

Zechariah 9 Prophecy Overview

Zechariah 9, written around 520-518 BCE during the Persian period after the Babylonian exile, is a prophetic oracle envisioning God’s judgment on Israel’s enemies and the restoration of Zion. Verses 1-8 list regions—Hadrach, Damascus, Hamath, Tyre, Sidon, and Philistine cities—facing divine judgment, suggesting a sweeping campaign from north to south. Verse 9 then shifts to a messianic vision: a humble king riding a donkey, bringing peace and salvation to Jerusalem, often interpreted as a future ruler contrasting with the warlike conquerors of the earlier verses.

Time of Jesus vs. Zechariah 9

Zechariah 9 Context (6th Century BCE):

  • The prophecy reflects a post-exilic hope for Judah’s restoration under Persian rule. The enemies listed (e.g., Hadrach, Damascus) were part of the Aramean-Syrian sphere, historically antagonistic to Israel. The “king on a donkey” symbolized a peaceful, righteous ruler, distinct from chariot-riding conquerors like Alexander the Great (who later swept through in 333 BCE) or earlier Assyrian/Babylonian kings.
  • The donkey imagery evokes humility and peace (Judges 10:4, 1 Kings 1:33), contrasting with militaristic power. Scholars see this as a messianic promise, possibly fulfilled in part by the Hasmonean rulers but fully realized in later Jewish and Christian eschatology.

Time of Jesus (circa 4 BCE – 30 CE):

  • Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem on a donkey (Matthew 21:1-11, John 12:12-15) explicitly fulfills Zechariah 9:9, as the Gospels cite it. This occurred around 30 CE, during Roman occupation of Judea, with Jerusalem under Pontius Pilate’s governorship. Crowds hailed Jesus as “Son of David,” aligning with the messianic king of Zechariah, though his “salvation” was spiritual, not military, disappointing those expecting a political liberator.
  • Unlike Zechariah’s broader vision of judgment on nations and dominion “from sea to sea” (9:10), Jesus’ time saw no immediate overthrow of Rome or neighboring powers like Damascus. His entry emphasized humility and peace, not conquest, contrasting with Zechariah’s dual theme of judgment and triumph.

Contrast:

  • Scope: Zechariah 9 envisions a king who ends war (9:10, “He will cut off the chariot”), ruling universally, while Jesus’ ministry focused on personal redemption, not geopolitical upheaval. The judgment on Hadrach and Damascus didn’t occur in Jesus’ lifetime—Rome dominated the region.
  • Timing: Zechariah’s oracle may point to a future messianic age (some rabbis link it to Messiah ben David), whereas Jesus’ life is seen by Christians as a partial fulfillment, with full realization deferred to a Second Coming.
  • Tone: Zechariah blends judgment and peace; Jesus’ entry emphasizes only the latter, subverting expectations of a warrior-king.

Who is Hadrach?

Hadrach (Hebrew: Ḥadrakh) is a mysterious name in Zechariah 9:1, appearing nowhere else in the Bible, leading to debate among scholars and rabbis:

  • Geographical Theories: Many identify Hadrach with Hatarikka, a city-state near Hamath in northern Syria, mentioned in Assyrian records (e.g., Annals of Tiglath-Pileser III, 8th century BCE). It may have been a regional power or coalition in the Aramean sphere, north of Damascus. Some suggest it’s a scribal error or symbolic name, but its pairing with Damascus implies a real location.
  • Rabbinic Views: The Talmud and Midrash rarely address Hadrach directly. Rashi links it to “the deep river” (a possible geographic clue), while some later rabbis (e.g., Radak) see it as part of Syria’s domain, perhaps a forgotten city by Zechariah’s time. Mystical traditions occasionally tie it to eschatological foes.
  • Modern Scholarship: It’s likely an archaic name for a northern Syrian region, possibly near Aleppo or Hamath, significant in the 8th-6th centuries BCE but faded by Jesus’ era, explaining its obscurity.

No Longer Obscure

“three high structures of that city will fall and a great edifice will fall.”

A Roman City

Yes, Beirut, Lebanon, was indeed a significant city during Roman times. Originally a Phoenician settlement known as Berytus, it came under Roman control in 64 BCE when Pompey the Great annexed the region as part of the Roman province of Syria. Under Roman rule, Berytus grew into a prosperous and important city, particularly renowned for its law school, which became one of the most prestigious in the Roman Empire. The city was granted the status of a Roman colony by Emperor Augustus around 14 BCE, and it was renamed Colonia Julia Augusta Felix Berytus in honor of his daughter Julia.

The Romans invested heavily in Berytus, constructing temples, a theater, baths, a hippodrome, and other infrastructure typical of Roman urban planning. Archaeological evidence, such as the Roman baths and sections of colonnaded streets uncovered in modern Beirut, attests to its Roman heritage. The city thrived as a center of trade, culture, and education until it was devastated by a massive earthquake in 551 CE, after which it began to decline.

So, yes, Beirut was very much a Roman city at one point in its long history!

Damascus in the Time of Jesus

  • Political Status: By Jesus’ time, Damascus was part of the Roman Empire, within the province of Syria (annexed in 64 BCE by Pompey). It briefly fell under Nabataean control (circa 37-34 BCE), but under Augustus (27 BCE – 14 CE) and Tiberius (14-37 CE), it was firmly Roman, governed by a legate in Antioch. Herod the Great and his sons had influence nearby, but Damascus was a key urban center under Roman administration.
  • Culture and Economy: A thriving trade hub on the Via Maris and routes to Arabia, Damascus was cosmopolitan, with Greek, Roman, Aramean, and Jewish populations. It had a significant Jewish community (Josephus notes thousands killed there in 66 CE during the First Jewish Revolt). Its wealth came from textiles, glass, and agriculture (e.g., Damascene plums).
  • Condition: Unlike Zechariah 9:1’s oracle of judgment, Damascus faced no divine destruction in Jesus’ day. It was stable, fortified, and prosperous, though subject to Roman taxes and occasional unrest. Paul’s conversion on the road to Damascus (Acts 9) highlights its importance as a Christian foothold post-Jesus.
  • Contrast with Zechariah: The prophecy suggests Damascus as a “resting place” for God’s word or wrath, implying its downfall or submission. In Jesus’ time, it remained a powerful city, unjudged, its role more administrative than prophetic.

Synthesis

  • Zechariah 9’s Vision: Foresees a divine sweep against Hadrach and Damascus, followed by a humble king’s triumph. Hadrach was likely a northern Syrian entity, and Damascus a regional capital, both ripe for judgment in the prophet’s context.
  • Jesus’ Era: Hadrach was long irrelevant, possibly a historical memory, while Damascus thrived under Rome. Jesus’ donkey-mounted entry fulfilled Zechariah 9:9 symbolically, but the broader judgment and dominion of 9:1-10 awaited a future fulfillment, per Christian and some Jewish views.
  • Rabbinic Take: Rabbis see Zechariah 9 as messianic, with Ishmael-like “wild donkey” traits (from Genesis) irrelevant here—Jesus’ donkey ride is meekness, not wildness. Hadrach remains obscure, and Damascus’s role is more historical than immediate.

He shall be a wild donkey of a man

One Would Ask what the setting or context of this prophecy is.

Genesis 16:12: “his hand against everyone
and everyone’s hand against him,
and he shall dwell over against all his kinsmen”.

Riding A Donkey

Rabbinic interpretations of Ishmael being described as a “wild donkey of a man” (Hebrew: pere adam) in Genesis 16:12 vary widely, reflecting both the complexity of the Hebrew text and the diversity of Jewish thought. This phrase, spoken by the angel of the Lord to Hagar, has been analyzed by rabbis and scholars over centuries, often focusing on its literal, metaphorical, and prophetic implications. Here’s a synthesis of key rabbinic perspectives, drawing from traditional sources and commentaries, without reproducing copyrighted excerpts directly.

The Hebrew term pere refers to a wild donkey (onager), an animal known for its untamed nature, strength, and preference for roaming freely in the wilderness. Many rabbis interpret this as a description of Ishmael’s character and destiny, as well as that of his descendants. Rashi (11th-century French rabbi), one of the most influential commentators, explains that “wild donkey of a man” suggests Ishmael will be a free-spirited, independent figure who loves the wilderness and lives as a hunter or nomad. He connects this to Ishmael’s lifestyle as an archer in Genesis 21:20, emphasizing his untamed, roaming nature rather than a settled existence.

Nachmanides (Ramban, 13th-century Spanish rabbi) offers a deeper nuance. He suggests that pere adam implies Ishmael will be a “wild-ass man accustomed to the wilderness,” seeking sustenance and living in conflict—”devouring all and being devoured by all.” Ramban sees this as a prophecy about Ishmael’s descendants, often identified with Arab tribes, who would be numerous, warlike, and perpetually at odds with others, including their kin. He interprets the phrase “his hand against everyone, and everyone’s hand against him” as a prediction of a turbulent, combative existence.

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (19th-century German scholar) takes a slightly different angle, focusing on the psychological and moral dimensions. He argues that “wild donkey” highlights Ishmael’s inability to bear constraint—whether societal, rational, or moral. Hirsch sees Ishmael as embodying unrestrained passion and lust, a man who stands apart, defiantly independent, yet not necessarily evil by nature. This wildness, he suggests, makes Ishmael a figure who resists subjugation but also struggles to align with communal harmony.

Some rabbis, like Ibn Ezra (12th-century Spanish commentator), emphasize the unrestrained quality of Ishmael’s life among people, portraying him as a rebel against human norms. Others, such as Onkelos (in his Aramaic Targum), translate “wild donkey” more starkly as “one who kills people,” implying a violent streak, though this is less common among later interpreters. Rabbi Chaim Vital (16th-century Kabbalist) ties Ishmael’s wildness to a nomadic, desert-dwelling identity, distinct from settled nations, likening his descendants to robbers who raid and retreat.

A notable modern perspective comes from Rabbi Joseph Hayyim Sonnenfeld (19th-20th-century Jerusalem scholar), who initially questioned how a human created in God’s image could be likened to a donkey. After witnessing what he perceived as the crimes of Ishmael’s descendants in Israel, he flipped the question: how could a donkey be compared to Ishmael? Yet, he maintained that this wildness isn’t an absolute condemnation—Ishmael retains the potential for redemption by channeling his passion toward holiness, such as accepting Isaac’s leadership and biblical authority.

Across these views, rabbis don’t uniformly see “wild donkey” as an insult. Some frame it as a promise of freedom and resilience for Hagar’s son, contrasting with her enslaved state—Ishmael will not be tamed or owned. Others view it as a neutral or even positive trait, akin to the wild donkey’s depiction in Job 39:5-8, where God praises its liberty and strength. However, many also connect it prophetically to historical conflicts, particularly between Ishmael’s descendants (often linked to Arabs or Muslims) and Isaac’s (the Jewish people), seeing it as an enduring trait of independence and strife.

In short, rabbis interpret Ishmael as a “wild donkey” to mean a fierce, free, and often contentious figure—untamed like the animal itself—whose legacy is both a blessing (numerous progeny, independence) and a challenge (conflict with others). The image evokes a spectrum of qualities: strength, defiance, and potential for good or ill, depending on how that wildness is directed.

  • The Zohar states that “in the future, the Holy One, blessed be He, will rebuild Jerusalem,” accompanied by the appearance of “one firm star, glowing with seventy pillars of fire and seventy sparks flashing from it in the middle of the Firmament.” This star will be visible for seventy days.
  • It specifies: “And [the star] will be seen on the sixth day, on the 25th day of the sixth month. It will be gathered on the seventh day, at the end of seventy days.”
  • On the first day of its visibility, “it will be seen in the city of Rome,” where “three high structures of that city will fall and a great edifice will fall.” The ruler of that city will die, and the star’s influence will spread globally, sparking wars and the rise of a “great king.”
  • Later, the Holy Land will tremble, revealing a cave from which the Messiah emerges.

The Star Of Yaacov

A Prince of Rome Shall be Killed

Israel kills Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah in air strike on Beirut

Hezbollah confirms Nasrallah’s killing as Israel says it hit the group’s leaders at their headquarters in south Beirut.

Beirut, Lebanon, was indeed a significant city during Roman times. Originally a Phoenician settlement known as Berytus, it came under Roman control in 64 BCE when Pompey the Great annexed the region as part of the Roman province of Syria. Under Roman rule, Berytus grew into a prosperous and important city, particularly renowned for its law school, which became one of the most prestigious in the Roman Empire. The city was granted the status of a Roman colony by Emperor Augustus around 14 BCE, and it was renamed Colonia Julia Augusta Felix Berytus in honor of his daughter Julia.

The Romans invested heavily in Berytus, constructing temples, a theater, baths, a hippodrome, and other infrastructure typical of Roman urban planning. Archaeological evidence, such as the Roman baths and sections of colonnaded streets uncovered in modern Beirut, attests to its Roman heritage. The city thrived as a center of trade, culture, and education until it was devastated by a massive earthquake in 551 CE, after which it began to decline.

So, yes, Beirut was very much a Roman city at one point in its long history!

The “sixth month” in Jewish tradition is Elul, the month preceding Tishrei (Rosh Hashanah). The text pegs this event to the 25th of Elul, a Friday (sixth day), suggesting a precise calendrical marker for this eschatological moment.

Imagine a retrospective report on March 14, 2025, reflecting on late 2024:
“On September 22, 2024—the 25th of Elul—few could have predicted the seismic events about to rock the Middle East. That Sunday, a quiet day before the High Holidays, now seems a tremor signaling the earthquakes to come. Five days later, Hezbollah’s Hassan Nasrallah fell in Beirut, a strike some call a judgment on Israel’s foes. By December 8, Bashar al-Assad’s regime crumbled in Damascus, shaking the region’s power structure. Was Elul 25 the unnoticed epicenter of this upheaval, as ancient texts like the Zohar hint?”

Jewish Understanding of Messiah vs. Ishmael and Esau

  • Ishmael: In Genesis 16:12, Ishmael is the “wild donkey of a man,” whose hand is against all. Rabbinic and Kabbalistic sources (e.g., Zohar III 212b, Pirkei de-Rabbi Eliezer 32) often identify his descendants with Arab or Islamic nations, seen as historical foes of Israel. The Zohar ties his “dominion” to a pre-messianic era, ending with a star signaling his fall.
  • Esau (Edom): Genesis 25-27 depicts Esau as Jacob’s rival, with Edom as his lineage. Midrash (e.g., Bereishit Rabbah 63:9) and Talmud (Sanhedrin 98b) equate Edom with Rome, later extended to Christendom in medieval exegesis (e.g., Rashi on Genesis 27:40). Esau represents physical and spiritual opposition to Israel’s
Daily Thoughts

How Could The Word Of GOD be Untrue

Cultural and Religious Discrepancies in Mark 16:1: An Analysis Through the Lens of Jewish Tahara

The Gospel of Mark, Chapter 16, Verse 1, presents a narrative that has drawn scrutiny from scholars of religious studies due to its apparent divergence from established Jewish customs. The verse reads:

“When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus’ body.”

This passage describes three women intending to perform a burial-related task—anointing the body of Jesus—following his crucifixion. However, this action conflicts with a fundamental Jewish practice known as Tahara, the ritual purification and preparation of the deceased for burial. Within Jewish tradition, Tahara is a gender-segregated process: men prepare male bodies, and women prepare female bodies. This segregation upholds principles of modesty and respect, deeply embedded in Jewish law (Halacha) and observed consistently across Jewish communities.

Given this context, the notion that Jewish women—Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome—would undertake the anointing of a male body, as depicted in Mark 16:1, appears culturally implausible. Such an act would contravene the norms of Tahara, raising significant questions about the narrative’s alignment with Jewish customs of the period. For a text regarded by many as divinely inspired or historically authoritative, such as the Christian Bible, this discrepancy prompts a critical inquiry: how could a document claiming to represent the “word of God” misalign with well-established religious practices of the culture it describes?

Reconciling Belief and Cultural Truth

This tension between the Gospel account and Jewish tradition invites broader reflection on the nature of the Christian Bible. If the text is intended to reflect historical events or divine will, the portrayal of women engaging in a male-specific burial rite suggests either a lack of familiarity with Jewish customs or an intentional narrative choice that prioritizes theological messaging over cultural accuracy. Scholars might argue that this reflects the Gospel’s audience—likely a Gentile or mixed community less familiar with Jewish law—rather than a strictly Jewish one bound by Halacha. Nevertheless, for those who view the Bible as an infallible source, this discrepancy poses a challenge to its credibility as a record of Jewish life and practice.

The Appeal of Jewish Tradition in the Abrahamic Context

This issue also resonates with contemporary shifts within the Abrahamic faiths. Increasingly, individuals are drawn to the Jewish tradition, as embodied in the Hebrew Bible (Tanakh), which emphasizes ethical living and communal responsibility over narratives of miraculous resurrection. Unlike the Christian New Testament, where raising the dead features prominently (e.g., Jesus’ resurrection), the Tanakh focuses on “raising the living”—offering a practical, verifiable framework for human conduct and societal cohesion. This distinction may account for the growing interest in Judaism among those seeking a faith grounded in observable truths rather than belief in supernatural events.

Conclusion

The depiction in Mark 16:1 of women preparing to anoint Jesus’ body highlights a significant departure from the Jewish practice of Tahara, where gender roles in burial preparation are strictly delineated. This anomaly challenges the Christian Bible’s consistency with Jewish customs and invites critical engagement with its historical and cultural dimensions. For scholars and lay readers alike, such discrepancies underscore the importance of approaching religious texts with an awareness of their cultural context and narrative intent. In this light, the Jewish tradition, with its emphasis on lived practice and ethical clarity, offers an alternative perspective—one that resonates with those prioritizing truth as a known, rather than merely believed, foundation for faith.

Daily Thoughts

A Series of Lectures on Truth.

Scientists expect Star of Jacob to appear this month.

Efraim Palvanov, a teacher and author, writes the blog Mayim Achronim (Final Waters), named for the little-known Jewish ritual of washing the fingers after a meal. Like the eponymous mitzvah, the blog covers Jewish subjects that are misunderstood or not normally discussed. In a recent lecture, Palvanov described the current wars in Ukraine and Israel as consistent with end-of-days predictions recorded in classical Jewish literature.

Palvanov emphasized that he was not making a prediction or a prophecy but was describing an astronomical event as described in Jewish literature

“We know that probably one of the oldest prophecies and traditions about the Moshiach (Messiah) comes from Balaam, a Gentile prophet who came to curse Israel but couldn’t curse them,” Palvanov said. “Instead, he gives a prophecy that actually says, ‘I will tell you what will happen at the end of days.’

What I see for them is not yet, What I behold will not be soon: A star rises from Yaakov, A scepter comes forth from Yisrael; It smashes the brow of Moab, The foundation of all children of Shet.

Numbers 24:17 What I see for them is not yet, What I behold will not be soon: A star rises from Yaakov, A scepter comes forth from Yisrael; It smashes the brow of Moab, The foundation of all children of Shet.

(the Israel bible)

Biblical News

August 28, 2024

6 min read

Daily Thoughts, Israel: Culture, Judaism, Returning Israel, Tanach Study, Torah

Jonathan Pollard and Rabbi David Bar-Hayim: Day 55

Machon Shilo

Stopping Jordanian Military Provocations on the Border:

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